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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16430-8.txt b/16430-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5484cfb --- /dev/null +++ b/16430-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8939 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 4, No. 23, +September, 1859, 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 4, No. 23, September, 1859 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 4, 2005 [EBook #16430] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Jon +King and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. IV.--SEPTEMBER, 1859.--NO. XXIII. + + + + +THE LIFE AND WORKS OF ARY SCHEFFER. + + +No painter of this age has made so deep an impression on the popular +mind of America as Ary Scheffer. Few, if any other contemporary artists +are domesticated at our firesides, and known and loved in our remotest +villages and towns. Only a small number, indeed, of his original works +have been exhibited here,--yet engravings from them are not only +familiar to every person of acknowledged taste and culture, but are dear +to the hearts of many who scarcely know the artist's name. Young maidens +delight in their tender pathos, and the suffering heart is consoled and +elevated by their pure and lofty religious aspiration. An effect so +great must have an adequate and peculiar cause; and we shall not have +far to seek for it, but shall find it in the aim and character of the +artist. Scheffer has two prominent qualities, by which he has won his +place in the popular estimation. The first is his sentiment. His works +are full of simple, tender pathos. His pictures always tell their story, +first to the eye, next to the heart and soul of the beholder. His +admirable knowledge of composition is always subordinate to expression. +His meaning is not merely historical or poetical, but is true to life +and every-day experience. "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie" is felt and +appreciated by those who have never sung, + + "Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen + blühen,"-- + +and "Faust" and "Margaret" tell their story to all who have felt life's +struggles and temptations, whether they have read them in Goethe's +version or not. Added to this power of pathos and sentiment is the deep +religious feeling which pervades every work of his pencil, whatever be +its outward form. His religion is of no dogma or sect, but the inflowing +of a life which makes all things holy and full of infinite meaning. +Whether he paint the legends of the Catholic Church, as in "St. +Augustine" and "St. Monica," or illustrate the life-poem of the +Protestant Goethe, or tell a simple story of childhood, the same +feelings are kindled, in our heart's faith in God, love to man, the sure +hope of immortality. It is this genuine and earnest religion of humanity +which has made his works familiar to every lover of Art and sentiment, +and given us a feeling of personal love and reverence for the made +artist. + +It is now nearly a year since his labors on earth terminated, and yet no +adequate account of his life and labors has appeared. It is very +difficult to satisfy the craving desire to know more of the personal +life and character of him who has been a household friend so long. Yet +it is rather the privilege of succeeding generations, than of +contemporaries, to draw aside the veil from the sanctuary, and to behold +the works of a man in his greatest art,--the art of life. But the cold +waters of the Atlantic, like the river of Death, make the person of a +European artist sacred to us; and it is hard for us to realize that +those whom we have surrounded with a halo of classic reverence were +partakers of the daily jar and turmoil of our busy age,--that the good +physician who tended our sick children so faithfully had lived in +familiar intercourse with Goethe, and might have listened to the first +performance of those symphonies of Beethoven which seem to us as eternal +as the mountains. Losing the effluence of his personal presence, which +his neighbors and countrymen enjoyed, we demand the privilege of +posterity to hear and tell all that can be told of him. We can wait +fifty years more for a biography of Allston, because something of his +gracious presence yet lingers among us; but we can touch Scheffer only +with the burin or the pen. So we shall throw in our mite to fill up this +chasm. A few gleanings from current French literature, a few anecdotes +familiarly told of the great artist, and the vivid recollection of one +short interview are all the aids we can summon to enable our readers to +call up in their own minds a living image which will answer to the name +that has so long been familiar to our lips and dear to our hearts. + +Ary Scheffer was born about the year 1795, in the town of Dordrecht, in +Holland; but, as at that period Holland belonged to the French Empire, +the child was entitled by birth to those privileges of a French citizen +which opened to him important advantages in his artistic career. French +by this accident of birth, and still more so by his education and long +residence at Paris, he yet always retained traces of his Teutonic origin +in the form of his head, in his general appearance, and in his earnest +and religious character. He always cherished a warm affection for his +native land. + +Many distinguished artists have been the sons of painters or designers +of superior note. Raffaello, Albert Dürer, Alonzo Cano, Vandyck, Luca +Giordano are familiar instances. It seems as if the accumulation of two +generations of talent were necessary to produce the fine flower of +genius. The father of Ary Scheffer was an artist of considerable +ability, and promised to become an eminent painter, when he was cut off +by an early death. He left a widow, many unfinished pictures, and three +sons, yet very young. The character of the mother we infer only from her +influence on her son, from the devoted affection he bore to her, and +from the wisdom with which she guided his early education; but these +show her to have been a true woman,--brave, loving, and always loyal to +the highest. The three sons all lived to middle age, and all became +distinguished men. Ary, the eldest, very early gave unequivocal signs of +his future destiny. His countrymen still remember a large picture +painted by him at Amsterdam when only twelve years old, indicating +extraordinary talent, even at that early age. His mother did not, +however, overrate this boyish success, as stamping him a prodigy, but +regarded it only as a motive for giving him a thorough artistic +education. He went, accordingly, to Paris, and entered the _atelier_ of +Guérin, the teacher then most in vogue. + +It was in the latter days of the Empire that Ary Scheffer commenced his +studies,--a period of great stagnation in Art. The whole force of the +popular mind had for many years been turned to politics and war; and if +French Art had striven to emancipate itself from slavish dependence on +the Greek, it still clung to the Roman models, which are far less +inspiring. "The autocrat David, with his correct, but soulless +compositions, was more absolute than his master, the Emperor." Only in +the Saloon of 1819 did the Revolution, which had already affected every +other department of thought and life, reach the _ateliers_. It commenced +in that of Guérin. The very weakness of the master, who himself halted +between two opinions, left the pupils in freedom to pursue their own +course. Scheffer did not esteem this a fortunate circumstance for +himself. His own nature was too strong and living to be crushed by a +severe master or exact study, and he felt the want of that thorough +early training which would have saved him much struggle in after life. +He used to speak of Ingres as such a teacher as he would have chosen for +himself. From the pupil of David, the admirer of Michel Angelo, the +conservator of the sacred traditions of Art, the student might learn all +the treasured wisdom of antiquity,--while the influences around him, and +his own genius, would impel him towards prophesying the hope of the +future. His favorite companions of the _atelier_ at this time were +Eugène Delacroix and Géricault. Delacroix ranks among the greatest +living French artists; and if death early closed the brilliant career of +Géricault, it has not yet shrouded his name in oblivion. The trio made +their first appearance together in the Saloon of 1819. Géricault sent +his "Wreck of the Medusa," Delacroix "The Barque of Dante," and Ary +Scheffer "The Citizens of Calais."[1] + +The works of these friends may be considered as the commencement of the +modern French school of Art, still so little known, and so ill +appreciated by us, but which is really an expression of the new ideas of +Art and Humanity which have agitated France to its centre for half a +century. Their hour of triumph has not yet come; but as the poet sings +most touchingly of his love, neither when he rejoices in its happy +consummation, nor in the hour of utter despair, but when doubt still +tempers hope,--so does the artist labor with prophetic zeal to express +those sentiments of humanity and brotherhood which are not yet organized +into institutions. A careless eye might have perceived little departure +from the old models in these pictures, but a keener one would have +already discovered that Scheffer and his friends worked with a different +aim from that of their predecessors. Not merely to paint a well-composed +picture on a classical theme, but to give expression to thought and +feeling, was now the object. "The Wreck of the Medusa" of Géricault is +full of earnest, if niggling life. Delacroix has followed his own bent +with such independent zeal as has made him the object of intense +admiration to some, of bitter hatred to others. But Ary Scheffer has +taken his rank at the head of the Spiritualist school, and has awakened +a wider love and obtained a fuller appreciation than either of them. The +spirit which found in them its first expression is continually +increasing in power, and developing into richer life. The living artists +of France are the exponents of her genuine Christian democracy. + +"The entire collection of Rosa Bonheur's works," says a French writer, +"might be called the Hymn to Labor. Here she shows us the ploughing, +there the reaping, farther on the gathering in of the hay, then of the +harvests, elsewhere the vintage,--always and everywhere labor." Edouard +Frère, in his scenes from humble life, which the skilful lithographer +places within the means of all, represents the incidents of domestic +existence among the poor. "The Prayer at the Mother's Knee," "The Woman +at her Ironing Table," "The Child shelling Peas," "The Walk to School +amid Rain and Sleet," are all charming idyls of every-day life. With yet +greater skill and deeper pathos does the peasant Millet tell the story +of his neighbors. The washerwomen, as the sun sets upon their labors, +and they go wearily homeward; the digger, at his lonely task, who can +pause but an instant to wipe the sweat from his brow; the sewing-women +bending over their work, while every nerve and muscle are strained by +the unremitting toil; the girl tending her geese; the woman her +cows:--such are the subjects of his masterly pencil. Do not all these +facts point to the realization of Christian democracy? If the king is +now but the servant of the people, so the artist who is royal in the +kingdom of the mind finds his true glory in serving humanity. What a +change from the classic subjects or monkish legends which occupied the +pencils of David and his greater predecessors, Le Sueur and Poussin! + +And yet those students of the antique have done French Art good service; +they have furnished it with admirable tools, so that to them we are +indebted for the thorough drawing, the masterly knowledge, which render +Paris the great school for all beginners in Art. Such men as we have +named do not scorn the past, but use it in the service of the present. +While Scheffer always subordinated the material part of Art to its +expression, he was never afraid of knowing too much, but often regretted +the loss of valuable time in youth from incompetent instruction. + +Encouraged by the success of his first essay, Scheffer continued to +paint a series of small pictures, representing simple and affecting +scenes from common life, some of which are familiar to all. "The +Soldier's Widow," "The Conscript's Return," "The Orphans at their +Mother's Tomb," "The Sister of Charity," "The Fishermen before a Storm," +"The Burning of the Farm," and "The Scene of the Invasion in 1814," are +titles which give an idea of the range of his subjects and the tenor of +his thoughts at this time. The French have long excelled in the art of +composition. It is this quality which gives the greatest value to the +works of Le Sueur and Poussin. Scheffer possessed this power in a +remarkable degree, but it was united to a directness and truth of +feeling which made his art the perfection of natural expression. A very +charming little engraving, entitled "The Lost Children," which appeared +in "The Token" for 1830, is probably from a picture of this period. A +little boy and girl are lost in a wood. Wearied with their fruitless +attempts to find a path, the boy has at length sunk down upon a log and +buried his face in his hands; while the little girl, still patient, +still hopeful, stands, with folded hands, looking earnestly into the +wood, with a sweet, sad look of anxiety, but not of despair. The +contrast in the expression of the two figures is very touching and very +true to Nature;--the boy was hopeful so long as his own exertions +offered a chance of escape, but the courage of the girl appears when +earthly hope is most dim and faint. The sweet unconsciousness of this +early picture has hardly been surpassed by any subsequent work. +"Naturalness and the charm of composition," says a French critic, "are +the secrets of Scheffer's success in these early pictures, to which may +be added a third,--the distinction of the type of his faces, and +especially of his female heads,--a kind of suave and melancholy ideal, +which gave so new a stamp to his works." + +These small pictures were very successful in winning popular favor; but +this success, far from intoxicating the young artist, only opened his +eyes to his own faults. He applied himself diligently to repairing the +deficiencies which he recognized in his work, by severe studies and +labors. He knew the danger of working too long on small-sized pictures, +in which faults may be so easily hidden. About the year 1826 he turned +resolutely from his "pretty jewels," as he called them, and commenced +his "Femmes Suliotes," on a large canvas, with figures the size of life. +M. Vitet describes the appearance of the canvas when Scheffer had +already spent eight days "in the fire of his first thought." It seemed +to him rather like a vision than a picture, as he saw the dim outlines +of those heroic women, who cast themselves from the rock to escape +slavery by death. He confesses that the finished picture never moved him +as did the sketch. Three years earlier Scheffer had sent to the Saloon +of 1824, in company with three or four small pictures, a large picture +of Gaston de Foix after the Battle of Ravenna. It was a sombre picture, +painted with that lavish use of pigment and that unrestrained freedom +which distinguished the innovators of that day. The new school were in +raptures, and claimed Scheffer as belonging to them. The public judged +less favorably; "they admired the noble head of Gaston de Foix, but, +uninterested in the remainder of the picture, they turned off to look at +'The Soldier's Widow.'" Scheffer did not listen to his flatterers; but, +remembering Michel Angelo's words to the young sculptor, "The light of +the public square will test its value," he believed in the verdict of +the people, and never again painted in the same manner. It was one of +his peculiar merits, that, although open to conviction, and ready to try +a new path which seemed to offer itself, he was also ready to turn from +it when he found it leading him astray. "Les Femmes Suliotes" did not +seem to have been designed by the same hand or with the same pencil as +the "Gaston de Foix." The first sketch was particularly +pleasing,--already clear and harmonious in color, although rather low in +tone. Many counselled him to leave the picture, thus. "No," said +Scheffer, "I did not take a large canvas merely to increase the size of +my figures and to paint large in water-colors, but to give greater truth +and thoroughness to my forms." In 1827 this picture was exhibited with +ample success, and the critics were forced to acknowledge the great +improvement in his style, although he had not entirely escaped from the +influence of his companions, and some violent contrasts of color mar the +general effect. The picture is now in the Luxembourg Gallery. + +M. Vitet divides Scheffer's artistic life into three portions: that in +which he painted subjects from simple life; that devoted to poetic +subjects; and the last, or distinctively religious period. These +divisions cannot, of course, be very sharply drawn, but may help us to +understand the progress of his mind; and "Les Femmes Suliotes" will mark +the transition from the first to the second period. Turning from the +simple scenes of domestic sorrow, he now sought inspiration in +literature. The vigorous and hearty Northern Muse especially won his +favor; yet the greatest Italian poet was also his earnest study. Goethe, +Schiller, Byron, Dante, all furnished subjects for his pencil. The story +of Faust and Margaret took such hold of his imagination that it pursued +him for nearly thirty years. Their forms appeared before him in new +attitudes and situations almost to his last hour, so that, in the midst +of his labors on religious pictures, he seized his pencils to paint yet +another Faust, another Margaret. Nor can we wonder at this absorbing +interest, when we reflect on the profound significance and touching +pathos of this theme, which may wear a hundred faces, and touch every +chord of the human heart. It is intellect and passion, in contrast with +innocence and faith; it is natural and spontaneous love, thwarted by +convention and circumstance; it is condemnation before men, and +forgiveness before God; it is the ideal and the worldly; it is an +epitome of human life,--love, joy, sorrow, sin,--birth, life, death, and +the sure hope of resurrection. How pregnant with expression was it to a +mind like Scheffer's, where the intellectual, the affectional, and the +spiritual natures were so nicely blended! He first painted "Margaret at +her Wheel," in 1831,--accompanied by a "Faust tormented by Doubt." These +were two simple heads, each by itself, like a portrait, but with all the +fine perception of character which constitutes an ideal work. Next he +painted "Margaret at Church." Here other figures fill up the canvas; but +the touching expression of the young girl, whose soul is just beginning +to be torn by the yet new joy of her love and the bitter consciousness +of her lost innocence, fills the mind of the spectator. This is the +most inspired and the most touching of all the pictures; it strikes the +key-note of the whole story; it is the meeting of the young girl's own +ideal world of pure thought with the outward world. The sense of guilt +comes from the reflection in the thoughts of those about her; and where +all before was peace and love, now come discord and agony;--she has +eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and is already cast out +of her paradise. "Margaret on the Sabbath," "Margaret going out of +Church," and "Margaret walking in the Garden," are all charming idyls, +but have less expression. The last picture, painted just before +Scheffer's death, and soon to be engraved, represents "Margaret at the +Fountain." "It is full of expression, and paints the joy and pain of +love still struggling in the young girl's heart, while conscience begins +to make its chiding voice heard." + +The "Mignons" are the best known of all Scheffer's works of this period. +The youngest one, "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie," is the most +satisfactory in its simple, unconscious expression. The wonderful child +stands in the most natural attitude, absorbed in her own thought, and +struggling to recall those dim memories, floating in beauty before her +mind, which seem almost to belong to a previous state of existence. +There is less of the weird and fantastic than Goethe has given to +her,--but the central, deep nature is beautifully reproduced. "Mignon +aspirant au Ciel," although full of spiritual beauty, is a little more +constrained; the longing after her heavenly home is less naturally +expressed than her childish regret; the pose is a little mannered; and +the feeling is more conscious, but less deep. "Mignon with the Old +Harper" is far less interesting; the old man's head does not express +that mixture of inspiration and insanity, the result of a life of love, +misery, and wrong, which Goethe has portrayed in this strange character. + +A very different picture, painted at this period, is peculiarly +interesting to us as our first acquaintance among Scheffer's works. An +excellent copy or duplicate of it belongs to the Boston Athenæum. The +original is in the Luxembourg at Paris. The subject is taken from +Schiller's ballad of "Count Eberhard." After the victory in which his +son has fallen, though the old Count has said to those who would have +paused to mourn his death, "My son is like another man; on, comrades, to +the foe!"--yet now he sits alone in his tent and looks upon the dead +body of his child. The silent grief of the stern old man is very +touching. This sorrow, so contrary to Nature, when old age stands by the +grave of youth, always moves the deepest feeling; and Scheffer, in the +noble old man and the brave and beautiful boy before him, has given it +its simplest and most appropriate expression. This picture was painted +in 1834. At that period Scheffer was engaged in some experiments in +color, and this sad subject led him to employ the dark tints of +Rembrandt. In 1850 he painted a duplicate of it, lighter and more +agreeable in tone. He painted "The Giaour" and "Medora," from Byron, +which pictures we have never seen. The wayward and morbid Muse of the +English Lord does not seem to us a fit inspiration for the pure pencil +of Scheffer. + +The well-known composition of "Francesca da Rimini" may well conclude +our brief notice of the pictures of this second epoch. M. Vitet regards +it as the most harmonious and complete of all his works; but we think it +has taken less hold on the popular heart than the "Mignons" and +"Margaret." Yet it is a work of great skill and beauty. The difficult +theme is managed with that moderation and good taste which recognize the +true limits of the art. The crowd of spirits which Dante so powerfully +describes as driven by the wind without rest are only dimly seen in the +background. The horrors of hell are shown only in the anguish of those +faces, in the despairing languor of the attitude, which not even mutual +love can lighten. The love which made them one in guilt, one in +condemnation, is stronger than death, stronger than hell; but it cannot +bring peace and joy to these souls shut out from heaven and God. + + "Se fosse amico il Re dell' universo, + Noi pregheremmo." + +But even prayer is denied to him who feels that he has not God for a +friend. There is no mark of physical torture; it is pure spiritual +suffering,--restless, aimless weariness,--the loss of hope; it is +death,--and love demands life. How strangely appropriate is this +punishment of spirits driven hither and thither by the winds, with no +hope of rest, to those who reject the firm anchorage of duty and +principle, and allow themselves to float at the mercy of their impulses +and passions! The overpowering compassion and sympathy of the poets is +shown in their earnest faces. Neither here, nor in the well-known "Dante +and Beatrice," which is too familiar to need description, does Scheffer +quite do justice to our ideal of the sublime poet of Heaven and Hell; +but neither do the portraits which remain of him. The picture was first +exhibited in 1835. As it had suffered very much in 1850, Scheffer +painted a repetition of it, with a few slight alterations, in which, +however, his progress in his art during twenty years was very evident. +This copy is very far superior to the engraving. + +About this period Scheffer seems to have wandered a little from the true +mission of Art, and to have esteemed it her province to represent +abstract theological truths. His religious feeling seems to have become +morbid, and his natural melancholy intensified. The death of his wife, +and consequent loneliness, may have given this ascetic tinge to his +feelings. But we must acknowledge, if it were so, that the sorrow which +oppressed did not embitter his heart, and that a brave and humane spirit +appears even in those works which have the least artistic merit to +recommend them. The "Christus Consolator" is the best known of this +class of pictures. It is cold, abstract, and inharmonious; but its +religious spirit and the beautiful truth which it expresses have won for +it a welcome which it seems hardly to merit. Yet it has touching beauty +in the separate figures. The woman who leans so trustingly on her +Saviour's arm has a very high and holy face, whose type we recognize in +more than one of his pictures; and the mother and her dead child form a +very touching group. But the various persons are not connected by any +common story or mutual relation, and we feel a want of unity in the +whole work. Perhaps the strongest tribute to its power of expression is +the story, that religious publishers found it necessary to blot out the +figure of the slave who takes his place among the recipients of Christ's +blessing, in order to fit their reprint for a Southern market. As a +companion to it, he painted the "Christus Remunerator," which is less +interesting. To this same class of pictures we should probably refer +"The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven," which we have never seen, but +which is thus described by M. Anatole de la Lorge:-- + +"There are also treasures of disappointed pleasure and of bitterness in +this picture of 'The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven,'--dim symbol of +human suffering. How does one, in the presence of this poem, feel filled +with the spirit of St. Augustine, the nothingness of what we call joy, +happiness, glory, here below,--delights of a moment, which at most only +aid us to traverse in a dream this valley of tears! Certain pages of +'The City of God,' funeral prayers of Bossuet, can alone serve us for a +comparison, in order to express the effect produced upon those who have +visited this _chef d'oeuvre_ in Ary Scheffer's _atelier_. Before +producing it, the artist must have thought long, suffered long; for each +stroke of the pencil seems to hide a grief, each figure speaks to you in +passing, and utters a complaint, a sigh, a prayer,--sad echoes of the +despair of life! The religious tendency of the thinker is here fully +shown; his poetic sympathy, his aspirations, his dreams, have found a +free course. We must mark, also, with what freedom his lamentations +spring from the ground, to carry even to the feet of the Creator the +overwhelming weight of earthly woe. Ary Scheffer's picture is like the +epitaph destined some day for the obsequies of the world; it breathes of +death, and has the sombre harmony of the Miserere. And nevertheless,--a +strange thing!--this dreaming painter, who seizes and afflicts us, is +the same man who at the same time reassures and consoles us,--without +doubt, because by dint of spiritualizing our thoughts he raises them +above our sufferings, by showing the consoling light of eternity to +those whom he would sever from the deceitful joys of earth." + +If the picture be not overcolored by the critic's eye, we must believe +this to be the culmination of the morbidly spiritualistic tendency which +we meet in Scheffer's works. Yet it never exists unrelieved by redeeming +qualities. Many will remember the original picture of the "Dead Christ," +which was exhibited here by an Art Union about ten years ago. The +engraving gives but a faint idea of the touching expression of the whole +group. The deathly pallor of the corpse was in strange harmony with the +face of the mother which bent over it, her whole being dissolved in +grief and love. No picture of this scene recalls to us more fully the +simple account in the Gospels. The cold, wan color of the whole scene +seems like that gray pall which a public grief will draw across the sky, +even when the meridian sun is shining in its glory. We have seen such +days even in Boston. No wonder that darkness covered the land to the +believing disciples even until the ninth hour. + +His "St. Monica," which appeared in 1846, met with great success. "Ruth +and Naomi" is yet unknown to us, but it seems to be a subject specially +adapted to his powers. Of those works which he produced within the last +twelve years, very few are yet engraved. When thus placed before the +public, we believe the popular estimate of Scheffer will be raised even +higher than at present. + +His pictures of Christ are of very superior merit. His representation of +the person of Jesus was not formal and conventional, but fresh in +expression and feeling, and full of touching pathos and sentiment. He +has neither the youthful beauty with which the Italians represent him, +nor the worn and wasted features which the early Germans often gave him, +but a thoughtful, earnest, tender beauty. The predominant expression is +the love and tenderness born of suffering. Three of his finest +representations of the life of Jesus of Nazareth are, "The Christ +weeping over Jerusalem," the "Ecce Homo," and "The Temptation." The last +is as original in design and composition; it is noble in expression. The +two figures stand on the summit of a mountain, and the calm, still air +around them gives a wonderful sense of height and solitude. You almost +feel the frost of the high, rare atmosphere. Satan is a very powerful +figure,--not the vulgar devil, but the determined will, the unsanctified +power. The figure of Christ is simple and expressive,--even the flow of +the drapery being full of significance and beauty. Another composition +of great beauty represents a group of souls rising from earth, and +soaring upwards to heaven. The highest ones are already rejoicing in the +heavenly light, while those below seem scarcely awakened from the sleep +of death. The whole picture is full of aspiration; everything seems +mounting upwards. + +Scheffer also painted a few pictures which can hardly be called his own. +Such are "The Battle of Tolbiac," and "Charlemagne dictating his +Statutes." These were painted by the command of Louis Philippe, who was +his constant friend and patron. The young princes were his pupils; and +Scheffer was careful to form them to better taste than that of the +citizen monarch who has lined Versailles with poor pictures. For the +King he painted "The Battle of Tolbiac," and we can only regret the time +which was thus wasted; _but for his pupils_ he designed "Francesca da +Rimini" and the "Mignons." + +A few masterly portraits by Scheffer's hand indicate his power of +reproducing individual character. Among these we may name that of his +mother, which is said to be his finest work,--one of the Queen,--a +picture of Lamennais,--and another of Emilia Manin, to which we shall +again refer. He occasionally modelled a bust, and sometimes engaged in +literary labor, contributing some valuable articles on Art to "La Revue +Française." + +It would be impossible for us to analyze or even enumerate all of +Scheffer's works. They are scattered throughout France and Holland, and +a few have found their way to this country. Most of the engravings from +his pictures are too well known to require description; and we feel that +we have said enough to justify our placing Scheffer in the high rank +which we claim for him. Engravings give us a juster idea of the French +than of the Dutch or Italian artists; for their merit is rather in +design and composition than in color. We agree with M. Vitet, that color +need not be a prominent excellence in a work of high spiritual beauty, +and that it should always be toned to a complete harmony with the +prevailing feeling of the picture. In this aspect we look upon the cold +color of the "Dead Christ" as hardly a defect; it is in keeping with the +sad solemnity of the scene. But if color should not be so brilliant as +to overpower the expression of form and sentiment, still less should it +be so inharmonious as to distract the mind from it, as is sometimes the +case with Scheffer. The "Dante and Beatrice" is a familiar instance. We +can see no reason why Beatrice should be dressed in disagreeable pink, +and Dante in brick-red. Surely, such color is neither agreeable to the +eye nor harmonious with the expression of the scene. This defect in +color has led many to prefer the engravings to Scheffer's original +pictures; but no copy can quite reproduce the nice touches of thought +and feeling given by the master's hand. Color is supposed by many to +belong mainly to the representation of physical beauty; but has not +Allston proved to us that the most subtile and delicate harmonies of +color may be united with ethereal grace and spiritual beauty? Compare +his "Beatrice" with that of Scheffer. But, in truth, the whole spiritual +relation of color is yet but dimly understood; and there are, perhaps, +influences in the climate and organization of the French nation which +have rendered them inferior in this department of Art. Allowing this +deduction--a great one, certainly,--still, if the expression of the +highest thoughts in the most beautiful forms be the true aim of Art, +Scheffer must rank among the very first painters of his age. Delaroche +may surpass him in strength and vigor of conception, and in thorough +modelling and execution; but Scheffer has taken a deeper hold of the +feelings, and has risen into a higher spiritual region. + +It has been reproachfully said that Scheffer is the painter for pretty +women, for poets, and for lovers. The reproach is also a eulogium, since +he must thus meet the demand of the human soul in its highest and finest +development. Others have accused him of morbid sensibility. There is +reason for the charge. He has not the full, round, healthy, development +which belongs to the perfect type of Art. Compare the "St. Cecilia" of +Scheffer--this single figure, with such womanly depth of feeling, such +lofty inspiration, yet so sad--with the joyous and almost girlish grace +of Raphael's representation of the same subject, and we feel at once the +height and the limitation of Scheffer's genius. There is always pathos, +always suffering; we cannot recall a single subject, unless it be the +group of rising spirits, in which struggle and sorrow do not form the +key-note. + + "In all your music, one pathetic minor + Your ears shall cross; + And all fair sights shall mind you of diviner, + With sense of loss." + +This is one view of human life, but it is a transitional and imperfect +one,--neither that of the first healthy unconsciousness of childhood, +nor of the full consciousness of a soul which has risen to that height +of divine wisdom which feels the meaning of all suffering, of all life. +The music of Beethoven expresses the struggle, the contest, the +sufferings of humanity, as Art has never done before; but it always +contains an eternal prophecy, rather than a mournful regret,--and in the +last triumphant symphony it swells onward and upward, until at last it +bursts forth in all the freedom and gush of song, and its theme is "The +Hymn to Joy." How much the fatherless home of Scheffer's childhood, how +much his own desolated life, when his beloved companion was so early +taken from his side, may have had to do with this melancholy cast of +thought, or how far it belonged to his delicate physical constitution, +we are not prepared to say. It becomes less prominent in his later +compositions, "as faith became stronger and sight clearer"; and perhaps +in those pictures yet unknown to us we may find still brighter omens of +the new life of rest and joy into which he has entered. + +If we turn from Scheffer's works to his life, our task is no less +grateful and pleasing. The admiration and affection which his countrymen +express for his character surpass even what they feel for his works. He +was a noble, generous, active, benevolent friend of humanity. He gave +freely to all who were in need, counsel, money, advice, personal care, +and love. Young artists found him ever ready to help them. "He gave +them," says M. Vitet, "home, _atelier_, material, sympathy,--whatever +they needed." Another writer, M. Anatole de la Lorge, said of him, while +yet living,--"Ary Scheffer has the rare good luck not to be exclusive. +His heart can pity every suffering as fully as his pencil can portray +it. A faithful and intimate friend of a now fallen dynasty, (that of +Orléans,) proud, even distrustful towards men in power, indifferent to +their opinion, inaccessible to their offers, Ary Scheffer, in his +original individuality, is one of the most independent and most +honorable political men of our country. His studio is the rendezvous of +all opinions, provided they are honest,--of all religions, provided they +are sincere. There each one is received, not according to the habit +which he wears, as the ancient proverb says, but according to the mind +(_esprit_) which he has shown. We say mind, but it is heart that we +should say; for Ary Scheffer seems to us to estimate the latter more +highly than the former. His whole life proves it." Always an ardent +friend of liberty, he was also a lover of law and order, and he rendered +good service in their preservation in the capital during the Revolution +of 1848, for which, he received honorable distinction. + +The same writer quoted above gives an interesting description of his +meeting with Ary Scheffer in the sick-room and by the death-bed of an +Italian refugee, Emilia Manin. A young Venetian girl, full of devotion +to her country and her proscribed father, she supported her exile with +all a woman's courage, buoyed up by the hope of returning to her +country, redeemed from its misery. She is described as possessing +extraordinary powers of mind and great beauty of person. There were no +questions, however sublime or abstract, which she did not treat with a +surprising depth and sagacity. "Her speech, ordinarily timid and feeble, +became emphatic and stirring; her great, dreamy eyes suddenly acquired +unequalled energy; she spoke of the misfortunes of her country in terms +so moving as to draw tears from our eyes." But the body which contained +this burning soul was very frail, "and the poor Emilia, the silent +martyr, turned her head upon her pillow, and took her first hour of +repose. When no longer able to speak, she had traced with a trembling +hand on a paper these last words,--'Oh, Venice! I shall never see thee +more!' She yet retained the position in which she drew her last breath, +when Ary Scheffer came, as Tintoret formerly came to the bedside of his +daughter, to retrace, with a hand unsteady through emotion, the features +of Emilia Manin. This holy image, snatched by genius from death, is one +of the most admirable works we have ever seen. She lies there, extended +and cold,--the poor child!--in that peace unknown to the life which she +had lived in the body. It is, indeed, the intelligent brow from which +the inspiration of her soul seemed to speak. It is the delicate mouth +and the pale lips, which, never uttering a murmur, betrayed the +celestial goodness of her heart. In truth, it would have been difficult +to hide our emotion, in recognizing--thanks to the pure devotion of the +painter--the touching features of this innocent victim, whom we had +known, loved, and venerated during her life. Some hours later, we again +found Ary Scheffer sustaining with us the tottering steps of Manin upon +the freshly removed earth which was soon to cover the coffin of his +child." + +By the same loving and faithful hand were traced the features of the +Abbé de Lamennais, a name so dear to those who live in the hope of new +progress and liberty for humanity. "At the moment," says M. de la Lorge, +"when death was yet tearing this great genius from the earth, the pencil +of the artist restored him, in some sense alive, in the midst of us all, +his friends, his disciples, his admirers. Hereafter, thanks to the +indefatigable devotion of Ary Scheffer, we shall be permitted to see +again the meagre visage, the burning eyes, the sad and energetic +features of the Breton Apostle." + +Into the domestic life of Scheffer it is not at present our privilege to +enter. Some near friend--the brother, the daughter, the wife--may, +perhaps, hereafter, lift the veil from the sacred spot, and reveal him +to us in those relations which most deeply affect and most truly express +a man's inmost nature. We close this notice with some slight sketch of +his life in the _atelier_. + +None could enter this room without a feeling of reverence and +sacredness. In the failing light of a November afternoon, all was +subdued to a quiet and religious tone. Large and commodious in size, it +was filled with objects of the deepest interest. Nothing was in +disorder; there was no smoke, no unnecessary litter; yet everywhere +little sketches or hints of pictures were perceptible among the casts, +which one longed to bring forth into the light. A few portraits +especially dear to him--best of all, that of his mother--were on the +walls; a few casts of the finest statues--among others, that of the +Venus de Milo--around the room. His last copy of the "Francesca da +Rimini," and the original picture of "The Three Marys," and the yet +unfinished "Temptation on the Mount," were all there. On the easel stood +the picture of the "Group of Spirits ascending to Heaven." Such was the +aspect of this celebrated _atelier_, as we saw it in 1854. But "the +greatest thing in the room was the master of it." Ary Scheffer was then +about sixty years of age, but was still healthy and fresh in appearance. +His face was rather German than French, and bore the stamp of purity and +goodness in every line; but the eyes especially had the fire of genius +tempered by gentleness and love. It was a face which satisfied you at +once, answering to all you could ask of the painter of "Mignon," and the +"Christus Consolator." His manner was quiet and reserved, but courteous. +Unconscious modesty was the peculiar charm of his appearance. One of our +party said that he reminded him strongly of Allston. It was a reverend +presence, which forbade common topics, and strangers thus meeting had +few words to say. As we turned away, we knew that we should never meet +again on earth; but we had gained a new life, and we had beheld, as it +were, the face of an angel. + +Two American artists stood with us in that room: one a fair young girl, +whose purity of soul was mirrored in her beautiful face, who had gone to +Paris to continue her studies in an art which she loved as she did her +life; the other, a man of mature age, whose high and reverent genius has +always met with a loving and faithful appreciation among his countrymen, +which does them as much honor as it did him. The young girl lay down to +die amid her labors, and her frail body rests amid the flowers and trees +of Montmartre; the grown man came home but to bid farewell to home, +friends, and life; the great artist whom we met to honor has gone home +too. A threefold halo of sanctity rests on that room to us. + +To those who shared the privilege of Scheffer's friendship this room was +endeared by hours of the richest social enjoyment. His liberal +hospitality welcomed all ranks and all classes. It is related that Louis +Philippe once sat waiting for him in the _atelier_, and answered a knock +at the door. The visitor was delivering his messages to him, when the +artist returned, and was somewhat surprised to find his royal friend +playing the part of _concierge_. "It was not rare to meet in this +_atelier_ the great men of finance, who counted themselves among his +most passionate admirers." Here was conversation, not without gayety, +but without loud laughter or revelry. Scheffer was very fond of music of +the highest order. He was a generous patron of musicians, and loved to +listen to music while he was engaged in painting. His friends sometimes +held an extemporaneous concert in his room, without preparation, +programme, or audience. Think of listening to an _andante_ of Mozart's, +played in that room! "Music doubled her power, and painting seemed +illuminated." Beethoven was his favorite composer; his lofty genius +harmonized with, and satisfied the longings of, Scheffer's aspiring +nature. + +Ary Scheffer was a personal friend of the Orléans family. He was, +however, an ardent lover of liberty; and his hospitalities were free to +all shades of opinion. He did not forsake this family when their star +went down. Hearing of the death of Hélène, the Duchess of Orléans, he +hastened to England, to pay a last tribute of love and respect to her +memory. The English climate had always been ungenial to him. He took a +severe cold, which proved fatal in its results. He died soon after his +return to Paris, on the 16th of June, 1858. Sadly as the news of his +death struck upon our hearts, it seemed no great change for him to die. +So pure and holy was his life, so spiritual his whole nature, so lofty +his aspirations, that it seemed as if + + "He might to Heaven from Paradise go, + As from one room to another." + +Ary Scheffer was twice married. His first wife died early. Many years +after her death he again married,--very happily, as we have heard. He +leaves behind him one daughter, who is also an artist. Under her loving +care, we trust every relic of his artistic labors and every trait of his +personal life will be faithfully preserved. + +Both his brothers lived to middle age. One, of whom we know little but +that M. Vitet calls him "a distinguished man," died in 1855. The only +surviving brother, Henri, is also a painter, of considerable reputation. +He is a thorough and accomplished draughtsman, and a superior teacher. +His _atelier_ is one of the few in Paris which are open to women, and +several American ladies have enjoyed its advantages. + +We have spoken of Scheffer's love for his native country. By his will he +bequeathed to his native town of Dordrecht "the portrait of Sir J. +Reynolds, by Scheffer; a dog lying down, life-size, by the same; a copy +of the picture of the 'Christus Remunerator,' on pasteboard, of the size +of the original in England; a copy of the 'Christus Consolator,'--both +by himself: also, his own statue, in plaster; his own bust, by his +daughter; and the Virgin and Infant Jesus, by himself." The town of +Dordrecht proposes to erect a statue in commemoration of the fame of the +great artist. + +It is too early to assign to Ary Scheffer the rank which he will finally +occupy in the new era of French Art which is coeval with his labors. He +will always stand as the companion of Ingres and Delaroche and +Géricault; and if his successors surpass him even in his own path, they +will owe much to him who helped to open the way. He lived through times +of trouble, when a man's faith in humanity might well be shaken, yet he +remained no less a believer in and lover of mankind. Brighter days for +France may lead her artists to a healthier and freer development; but +they can never be more single-hearted, true, and loving than Ary +Scheffer. + + +[1] This picture is now in the Louvre. It is a composition of +great dramatic power. Mrs. Stowe gives a graphic description of the +effect it produced upon her, in her "Sunny Memories of Sunny Lands." + + + + +A VISIT TO MARTHA'S VINEYARD. + + +We have all, in our days of atlases and "the use of the globes," been +made aware of the fact, that off the southern shore of Massachusetts +lies a long and narrow island, called Martha's Vineyard, one of the many +defences thrown out by the beleaguered New England coast against its +untiring foe, the Atlantic. + +But how many are those who know more than this? How many have visited +it, inquired into its traditions, classified its curiosities, mineral, +saline, and human? How many have seen Gay Head and the Gay-Head Indians? +Not many, truly; and yet the island is well worth a visit, and will +repay the tourist better for his time and labor than any jaded, glaring, +seaside watering-place, with its barrack of white hotel, and its crowd +of idle people. + +In the first place, the delicious suggestiveness of the name,--Martha's +Vineyard! At once we ask, Who was Martha? and how did she use her +vineyard? Was she the thrifty wife of some old Puritan proprietor of +untamed acres?--and did she fancy the wild grapes of this little island, +fuller of flavor, and sweeter for the manufacture of her jellies and +home-made wine, than those which grew elsewhere?--and did she come in +the vintage season, with her children and her friends, to gather in the +rich purple clusters, bearing them back as did the Israelitish spies, to +show the fatness of the promised land? + +It was one of the fairest days of the Indian summer, when Caleb, Mysie, +and the Baron (a young gentleman four years old) set gayly forth to +explore this new and almost unknown region. + +The first stage of their journey was New Bedford; and at the neat and +quiet hotel where they spent the night, Caleb ascertained that the +steamer "Eagle's Wing" would leave its wharf, bound to the Vineyard. + +Pending this event, the trio wandered about the quiet wharves, +inspecting the shipping, and saturating themselves with nautical odors +and information. They discovered that whaleships are not the leviathans +of the deep which Mysie had supposed them, being very rarely of a +thousand tons, and averaging five hundred. They were informed that +whaling has ceased to be a profitable occupation to any but the officers +of the ships, the owners frequently making only enough to repay their +outlay from a voyage which has brought the captain and first mate +several thousand dollars each. + +Every member of a whaleship's crew, from the captain down to the +cabin-boy, is paid, not fixed wages, but a "lay," or share of the +profits of the voyage. Formerly, these "lays" were so graduated, that +the chief advantage of the expedition was to the owners; but, of late +years, matters have altered, so that now it is not uncommon for the +captain to receive a twelfth, tenth, or even eighth of the entire +profit, and the other officers in proportion. + +The attention of our travellers was now directed to numerous squares and +plateaus of great black objects buried in seaweed; these, they were +informed, were casks of oil, stored in this manner instead of in +warehouses, as less liable to leakage. + +It was also asserted, as a fact, that the sperm whale, alarmed at the +untiring rigor of his assailants, has almost disappeared from the +navigable waters, retreating to the fastnesses of the Frozen Ocean, +where he is still pursued, although at the greatest peril, by the +dauntless New Bedford, Nantucket, and Vineyard whalemen, who, as the +narrator proudly stated, have, time and again, come out unscathed from +the perils under which Franklin and his crew succumbed. Many a man now +walks the streets of these seaports who has conversed with the Esquimaux +last in company with that ill-fated crew. + +Full-fed with maritime and oleaginous lore, our travellers at last +embarked upon the "Eagle's Wing," bound down the Vineyard Sound. As the +steamer gained its offing, the view of New Bedford was very picturesque, +reminding one of Boston seated at the head of her beautiful bay. The +passage through the islands, though not long, is intricate, requiring +skilful pilotage; and as the boat passed through the channel called +Wood's Hole, certain feeble-minded sisters were positive that all on +board were bound to immediate destruction; and, in truth, the reefs, +between which the channel lies, approach too closely to leave much room +for steering. The perils of the vasty deep, however, were finally +surmounted, and the steamer made fast to its wharf at Holmes's Hole, one +of the two principal ports of Martha's Vineyard. + +Our trio disembarked, and found themselves at once the subjects of +fierce contention to no less than three aspirants for the honor of +conveying them and their luggage to their point of destination. One of +these, called Dave, was a grave, saturnine Yankee, his hands in the +pockets of his black trousers, his costume further exhibiting the +national livery of black dress coat, black satin waistcoat and necktie, +cow-hide boots, and stiff, shiny hat, very much upon the back of his +head. The languid and independent offers of this individual were, +however, quite drowned by the flood of vociferous overtures from his two +rivals,--an original youth, about eighteen years old, and a man, or +rather mannikin, who, judging by his face, might be in his fiftieth, +and, by his back, in his tenth year. + +Mannikin first succeeded in gaining the attention of Caleb,--the efforts +of Mysie, meanwhile, barely sufficing to restrain the Baron from +plunging over the side of the wharf, in his anxiety to witness the +departure of the steamboat. Mannikin, asserting earnestly that he had a +"good conveyance" close at hand, danced around the group with vehement +gesticulations, intended to strike despair into the souls of his two +adversaries, who, nevertheless, retained their ground,--Dave lounging in +the middle distance, a grim smile of derision upon his face, and Youth +dodging in with loud offers of service, wherever Mannikin left a point +undefended. + +Caleb, at last, demanding to see the "good conveyance," was led away to +the head of the wharf, when Youth at once seized the opportunity to rush +in, and breathlessly inquire of Mysie,-- + +"Wher' ye goin', Ma'am? Wher' ye want to be kerried?" + +"We are going to Gay-Head Light-house; but my"-- + +"Ga'ed Light? I kin kerry ye there fust-rate, and cheap too;--kerry ye +there for two dollars!" + +"My husband has already spoken"-- + +"Wat! t' ole Ransom? Wy, he a'n't got nothin' but a weelbarry." And +Caleb, returning at the same moment with a somewhat perplexed air, +corroborated this statement by saying,-- + +"This man has no carriage, but will get us one in a short time." + +"But this boy," retorted Mysie, "says he has a carriage, and will carry +us to Gay Head for two dollars." + +"You hear that, ole feller?--they're a-goin' with me!" crowed triumphant +Youth at disconcerted Mannikin, who nevertheless rapidly proceeded to +pile the luggage upon his barrow and trundle it away. + +This _coup d'état_ was checked by Caleb, but afterward allowed, upon +discovering that Youth's carriage was still reposing in his father's +stable, "jist up here"; and Mannikin was consoled by being allowed to +earn a quarter of a dollar by transporting the luggage to that +destination. The procession at once set forth, including Dave, who +strolled in the rear, softly whistling, and apparently totally +unconcerned, yet all the while alive with feline watchfulness. + +Arrived at the stable, the travellers were requested to wait there while +Youth went to find his father and "borry a wip." + +At these last words, a "subtle smile, foreboding triumph," broke over +Dave's composed features, as he muttered,-- + +"Reckin you'll need one 'fore you reach Ga'ed Light." + +The coast clear, Dave became a little more communicative, expatiated +upon the dangers and discomforts of the road, the incapacity of Youth's +horse, and the improbability that his father would ratify the bargain, +concluding by offering to "do the job himself in good shape for four +dollars," which offer was held in abeyance until we should learn the +result of Youth's interview with his father. + +In the mean time, a matron suddenly made her appearance in the barn, +with a hospitable entreaty that "the woman and child" would come up to +the house and warm themselves; and Caleb strongly advocating the Idea, +Mysie and the Baron proceeded houseward. + +About half-way they encountered Paterfamilias, hastening with Youth +toward the barn, and to him Matron at once recapitulated the affair, +concluding with mentioning the stipulated price. At this Pater turned, +with thunderous brow, toward Youth; but Matron interposed, with womanly +tact,-- + +"You can do jest as you like, you know, about lettin' him go; but Dave's +in the barn." + +"Dave in my barn! Wat in thunder's he doin' there? Yes, go, boy,--go for +nothin', if they ask you to, sooner than let that"-- + +The rest of the sentence was lost in the distance. But Mysie, following +her guide to the house, felt quite sure of their conveyance; and, in +fact, barely sufficient time elapsed for the hostess to possess herself +of the leading facts in her guests' history, before the carriage was +announced, and our travellers hastened down the lane, and found there +awaiting them the evident model of the Autocrat's "One-Hoss Shay," in +its last five years of senility;--to this was attached a quadruped who +immediately reminded Mysie of a long-forgotten conundrum. + +"What was the first created animal?" + +_Ans._ "Shay-'oss." + +Holding him ostentatiously by the head stood Youth, the "borried" whip +flourished in his right hand, as he invited his passengers to seat +themselves without reference to him. + +This being done and the seat pretty thoroughly filled, Youth perched +himself upon a bag and valise, which filled the front of the vehicle, +and the journey commenced. + +That ride! The first mile was not passed before the meaning of Dave's +malicious smile, at mention of a whip, became painfully apparent; for +never was weapon more perseveringly used, or with so little result, the +cunning old beast falling into a jog-trot at the commencement, from +which no amount of vociferation or whipping could move him. + +"I wouldn't hurry him so much," interposed Mysie, her compassion +aroused both for beast and Youth. "I don't like to see a horse whipped +so much." + +"Oh, you see, Ma'am, he's so used to it, he won't go noways without it; +feels kind o' lonesome, I 'xpect. It don't hurt him none, nuther; his +skin's got so thick an' tough, that he wouldn't know, if you was to put +bilin' tar on him." + +"Do you feed your horse on oats, much?" inquired Caleb, gravely, after a +long and observant silence. + +"No, Sir, we darsn't give him no oats, 'cause he'd be sure to run away; +doos sometimes, as it is." + +"I don't think you need fear it to-day," replied Caleb, quietly, as he +settled himself into the corner, in the vain hope of a nap; but Youth +was now loquaciously inclined. + +"Reck'n Dave was disappinted," said he, with a chuckle. "He meant to +kerry ye himself; but soon's I see him round, I says to myself, says I, +'Ole Chick, you sha'n't come it this time, if I go for nothin'.'" + +"Competition is the soul of trade," drowsily murmured Caleb; but as +Youth turned to inquire, "Whossay?" the bag upon which he was seated, +and upon which, in the enjoyment of his triumph, he had been wriggling +somewhat too vivaciously, suddenly gave way, and a pair of snow-white +hose came tumbling out. They were at once caught and held admiringly up +by Youth, with the ingenuous remark,-- + +"How wite them looks! An' if you'll blieve it, mine was jest as clean +yis'day mornin',--an' now you look at 'em!" To facilitate which +inspection, the speaker conscientiously drew up his corduroys, so as +fully to display a pair of home-knit socks, which certainly had wofully +deteriorated from the condition ascribed to them "yis'day mornin'." + +"You see, I went clammin' las' night," pursued Youth; "an' that's death +on clo's." + +"What's clammin'?" inquired the Baron, changing the subject with +unconscious tact, and quite surprised at the admiring kiss bestowed upon +him by his mother, while Youth, readjusting his corduroys, replied with +astonishment,-- + +"Clammin'? Wy, clammin's goin' arter clams; didn't ye never eat no +clam-chowder?" + +"N-o, I don't think I ever did," replied the Baron, reflectively. "Is it +like ice-cream?" + +"Well, I never eat none o' that, so I dunno," was the reply; and Youth +and Child, each regarding the other with wondering pity, relapsed into +silence. + +Having now passed from the township of Holmes's Hole into Tisbury, the +road lay through what would have been an oak forest, except that none of +the trees exceeded some four feet in height,--Youth affirming this to be +their mature growth, and that no larger ones had grown since the forest +was cleared by the original settlers. A few miles more were slowly +passed, and Mysie began to look hopefully from every eminence for a +sight of the light-house, when she was stunned by the information, that +they were then entering Chilmark, and were "'bout half-way." + +Caleb, with an exclamation of disgust, leaped from "the shay," and +accomplished the remaining ten miles, wrathfully, on foot,--while Mysie, +wrapping her feminine patience about her as a mantle, resigned herself +to endurance; but Youth, noticing, perhaps, her weary and disconsolate +expression, applied himself sedulously to the task of entertaining her; +and, as a light and airy way of opening the conversation, inquired,-- + +"Was you pooty sick aboard the boat?" + +"Not at all." + +"That's curous! Women 'most alluz is,--'specially wen it's so ruffly as +it is to-day. Was bubby sick any?" + +"No." + +"Wa-al, that's very fortnit, for I don't blieve he'll be sick wen he +grows up an' goes walin'. It's pooty tryin', the fust two or three weeks +out, ginerally. How young is he a-goin' to begin?" + +"I do not think he will ever go to sea." + +"Not a-goin' to sea? Wy, his father's a captain, I 'xpect; a'n't he?" + +"No." + +"Mate, then, a'n't he?" + +"He is not a sailor at all." + +"Ha'n't never ben to sea?" + +"Never." + +Oh, the look of wide-mouthed astonishment which took possession of +Youth's hitherto vacant features, at thus encountering a strong-looking +man, in the prime of life, who had never been to sea, and a healthy, +sturdy boy, whose parents did not mean that he ever should! He had no +more to say; every faculty was, for at least an hour, devoted to the +contemplation of these _lusus naturæ_, thus presented to his vision. + +At last, the road, which had long been in a condition of ominous +second-childhood, suddenly died a natural death at the foot of a steep +hill, where a rail-fence presented itself as a barrier to farther +progress. The bars were soon removed by Youth, who triumphantly +announced, as Cha-os walked slowly through the opening thus presented,-- + +"Now we're on Ga'ed, an' I'll run along and take down the next bars, if +you kin drive. Git along, Tom,--you ha'n't got nothin' but two feathers +ahind you now." + +"How far is it to the Light-house?" inquired Mysie, faintly. + +"Ony 'bout four mild," was the discouraging reply, as Youth "loped" on +in advance. + +"Four mild!" and such miles! The only road, a faint track in the grass, +now undiscernible in the gathering gloom, now on the slope of steep +hills marked by deep gullies worn by the impetuous autumn rains, and +down which the poor old "shay" jerked along in a series of bumps and +jolts threatening to demolish at once that patriarchal vehicle and the +bones of its occupants. + +At last, however, from the top of one of these declivities, the +brilliant, flashing light of the long-watched-for Pharos greeted Mysie's +despairing eyes, and woke new hopes of warmth, rest, and shelter. But +never did bewildering _ignisfatuus_ retire more persistently from the +pursuit of unwary traveller than did that Light-house from the occupants +of that creaking "shay"; and it was not till total darkness had settled +upon the earth that they reached its door, and discovered, by the +lamplight streaming out, that Caleb stood in the entrance, awaiting +their arrival. + +As the chaise stopped, he came forward and lifted the stiff and weary +forms of "the woman and child" to the ground, and delivered them to the +guidance of the hostess. + +The first aspect of affairs was somewhat discouraging,--the parlor into +which they were ushered being without fire and but dimly lighted, the +bedroom not yet prepared for toilet purposes, and the hostess, as she +averred, entirely unprepared for company. + +Left alone in the dreary parlor, Caleb subsided into moody silence, and +Mysie into tears, upon which the Baron followed suit, and produced such +a ludicrous state of affairs, that the sobs which had evoked his changed +to an irrepressible laugh, in which all parties soon joined. This +pleasant frame of mind was speedily encouraged and augmented, first, by +water and towels _ad libitum_, and then by an introduction to the +dining-room, in whose ample grate now roared a fire, of what our +travellers were informed was peat,--an article supplying, in the absence +of all other indigenous fuel, nearly every chimney upon the island. + +A good cup of tea and a substantial supper prepared the trio to accept +the invitation of the excellent Mr. F. (the chief keeper, and their +host) to go up with him "into the Light." + +And now our travellers suddenly found that they had made a pilgrimage +unawares. They had come to the island for sea-air and pebbles, to shoot +ducks, see the Indians, and find out who Martha was, and had come to the +Light-house, as the only "white" dwelling upon the Head,--the rest +being all occupied by the descendants of the red men,--and now found +themselves applauded by their host for having "come so far to see our +Light;--not so far as some, either," continued he, "for we have had +visitors from every part of the Union,--even from Florida; every one who +understands such things is so anxious to see it." + +"Why, is it different from common light-houses?" carelessly inquired +Caleb. + +"Don't you know? Haven't you come on purpose to see it?" asked the +keeper, in astonishment,--and then proceeded to explain, that this is +the famous Fresnel light, the identical structure exhibited at the great +Exposition at Paris, bought there by an agent of the United States, and +shipped by him to America. + +Owing, however, to some inexplicable blunder, its arrival was not made +known to the proper authorities,--and the papers which should have +accompanied it being lost or not delivered, no one at the custom-house +knew what the huge case contained. It was deposited in a bonded +warehouse during the legal interval, but, never having been claimed, was +then sold, still unexamined, to the highest bidder. He soon identified +his purchase, and proceeded to make his own profit out of it,--the +consequence being that government at last discovered that the Fresnel +light had been some two years in this country, and was then upon +exhibition, if the President and cabinet would like to take a peep. The +particulars of the bargain which ensued did not transpire, but it +resulted in the lantern being repacked and reshipped to Gay Head, its +original destination. + +While hearing this little history, the party were breathlessly climbing +three steep iron staircases, the last of which ended at a trap-door, +giving admittance to the clock-room, where the keeper generally sits; +from here another ladder-like staircase leads up into the lantern. +Arrived at the top, the Baron screamed with delight at the gorgeous +spectacle before him. + +The lamp (into the four concentric wicks of which a continual and +superabundant supply of oil is forced by a species of clock-work, +causing a flame of dazzling brilliancy) is surrounded by a revolving +cover, about eight feet high by four or five in diameter, and in shape +like the hand-glasses with which gardeners cover tender plants, or the +shades which one sees over fancy clocks and articles of _bijouterie_. +This cover is composed of over six hundred pieces of glass, arranged in +a complicated and scientific system of lenses and prisms, very difficult +to comprehend, but very beautiful in the result; for every ray of light +from that brilliant flame is shivered into a thousand glittering arrows, +reflected, refracted, tinted with all the rainbow hues, and finally +projected through the clear plate-glass windows of the lantern with all +the force and brilliancy of a hundred rays. If any one cares to +understand more clearly the why and the how, let him either go and see +for himself or read about it in Brande's Encyclopædia. Mysie and the +Baron were content to bask ignorantly in the glittering, ever-changing, +ever-flowing flood of light, dreaming of Fairy Land, and careless of +philosophy. Only so much heed did they give to the outer world as always +to place themselves upon the landward side of the lantern, lest +unwittingly their forms should hide one ray of the blessed light from +those for whose good it was put there. + +Caleb, meanwhile, sat with his host in the clock-room, smoking many a +meerschaum, and listening to the keeper's talk about his beautiful +charge,--a pet as well as a duty with him, obviously. + +With the same fond pride with which a mother affects to complain of the +care she lavishes upon her darling child would the old man speak of the +time necessary to keep his six hundred lenses clear and spotless, each +one being rubbed daily with softest doeskin saturated with _rouge_, to +keep the windows of the lantern free from constantly accumulating saline +incrustations,--of the care with which the lamp, when burning, must be +watched, lest intrusive fly or miller should drown in the great +reservoir of oil and be drawn into the air-passages. This duty, and the +necessity of winding up the "clock" (which forces the oil up into the +wick) every half-hour, require a constant watch to be kept through the +night, which is divided between the chief and two assistant keepers. + +The morning after their arrival, our travellers, strong with the vigor +of the young day, set forth to explore the cliffs, bidding adieu to +original Youth, who, standing ready to depart, beside his horse, was +carolling the following ditty in glorification of his native town:-- + + "Ga'ed Light is out o' sight, + Menemshee Crik is sandy, + Holmes's Hole's a pooty place, + An' Oldtown Pint's onhandy." + +(Oldtown being synonymous with Edgartown, the rival seaport.) + +Leaving this young patriot to his national anthem, a walk of a few +hundred feet through deep sword-edged grass brought our explorers to the +edge of a cliff, down which they gazed with awe-hushed breath. Below +them, at a depth of a hundred and fifty feet, the thunderous waves beat +upon the foot of the cliff over whose brink they peered, and which, +stern and impassive as it had stood for ages, frowned back with the mute +strength of endurance upon the furious, eager waves, which now and again +dashed themselves fiercely against its front, only to be flung back +shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. + +The cliffs themselves are very curious and beautiful, being composed of +red and black ochre, the largest cliff showing the one color on its +northern and the other on its southern face. The forms are +various,--some showing a sheer descent, with no vestige of earth or +vegetation, their faces seamed with scars won in the elemental war which +they have so long withstood. In other spots the cliff has been rent into +sharp pinnacles, varied and beautiful in hue. + +One spot, in particular, which became Mysie's favorite resort, was at +once singular and beautiful in its conformation. About three feet above +the water's edge lay a level plateau, its floor of loose, sandy, black +conglomerate, abounding in sparkling bits of quartz and sulphate of +iron; beneath this lay a bed of beautifully marbled and variegated clay, +its edge showing all along the black border of the plateau like the +brilliant wreath with which a brunette binds her dusky hair. Blocks of +this clay, fallen upon the beach, and wet with every flowing wave, lay +glistening in the sunlight and looking like-- + +"Castile soap, mamma," suggested the Baron, as Mysie was describing the +scene in his presence, and hesitated for a simile. + +At the back of the terrace, which, in its widest part, measured some +fifty feet, rose suddenly and sharply the pinnacled cliffs, some snowy +white, some black, some deep red, and others a cold gray. At either hand +they extended quite down to the water's edge, so that, seated upon the +plateau, nothing met the eye but ocean, sky, and cliffs; no work of man +struck a discordant note in the grand harmony of these three simple, +mighty elements of creation. + +Mysie sometimes took a book here with her, but it was not a place to +read in; the scene crushed and dwarfed human thoughts and words to +nothingness; and to repeat to the ocean himself what had been said of +him by the loftiest even of poets seemed tame and impertinent. + +These cliffs extend about a mile along the shore, and then suddenly give +place to a broad sandy beach, behind which lies a level, desolate moor, +treeless, shrubless, and barren of all vegetation, save coarse grass and +weeds, and a profusion of stunted dog-roses, which, in their season, +must throw a rare and singular charm over their sterile home. + +The beach, though smooth and even, is not flat, like those of Nantasket, +Nahant, and Newport, but shelves rapidly down; and there is a belief +among the islanders, that a short distance out it terminates suddenly at +the brow of a submarine precipice, beyond which are no soundings. + +Owing to the sharp declivity of the beach, the rollers break with great +force, and the surf is very high. At one point is grouped a cluster of +rocks, half in the water, half on the beach, among which, as the tide +comes in, the waves break with furious force, dashing high over the +outermost barrier, and then plunging and leaping forward, like a troop +of wild horses, their white manes flung high in air, as they leap +forward over one and another of the obstacles in their path. + +Perched upon the crest of one of these half-submerged rocks, watching +the mad waves fling themselves exhausted at her feet, it was Mysie's +delight to sit, enjoying the half danger of her position, and retreating +only when the waters had many times closed behind her throne, leaving, +in their momentary absence, but a wet and slippery path back to the +beach. + +Along this beach, too, lay the road to Squipnocket, a pond famed for its +immense flocks of wild geese and ducks,--fame shared by Menemshee Creek +and Pond, as well as several others of similar aboriginal titles. + +To these repaired, almost daily, Caleb, accompanied by one or another of +his host's five sons; and the result of their efforts with the gun was +no inconsiderable addition to the table at Ga'ed Light. + +But greatest of all the wonders at the Head are the Fossil Cliffs. + +A short time after the arrival of our travellers, their hostess inquired +if they had yet found any fossils. Mysie frankly confessed that they did +not know there were any to find, which was evidently as great a surprise +to Mrs. F. as their ignorance of the Fresnel light had been to her +husband. She at once offered the services of her daughter Clarissa as +guide and assistant, and gave glowing accounts of the treasures to be +found. The offer was gladly accepted; and Clarissa, a merry little romp, +about twelve years old, soon made her appearance, armed with a pickaxe, +hoe, and basket. + +Thus laden, and in the teeth of a shrewd northeast wind, the little +barefooted pioneer led the way directly over the brow of a cliff, which, +had Mysie been alone, she would have pronounced entirely impracticable. +Now, however, fired with a lofty emulation, she silently followed her +guide, grasping, however, at every shrub and protection with somewhat +convulsive energy. + +"Here's a good place," announced Clarissa, pausing where a shelf of +gravelly rock afforded tolerable foothold. "Professor Hitchcock told +father that in here were strata of the tertiary formation, and there's +where we get the fossils." + +"But how do you come at the tertiary formation through all this sand and +gravel?" asked Mysie, aghast at the prospect. + +"Oh, dig; that's why I brought the pick and hoe; we must dig a hole +about a foot deep, and then we shall come to the stuff that has the +fossils in it. You may have the hoe, and I'll take the pick, 'cause +that's the hardest." + +"Then let me have it; I am stronger than you," exclaimed Mysie, suddenly +roused to enthusiasm at the idea of "picking" her way into the tertiary +formation of the earth, and exhuming its fossilized remains. + +Seizing the pickaxe, she aimed a mighty blow at the clay and gravel +conglomerate before her; but the instrument, falling wide of its +intended mark, struck upon a rock, and sent such a jarring thrill up +both her arms and such a tingle to her fingers' ends as suddenly +quenched her antiquarian zeal, and reminded her of a frightful account +she once read of a convent of nuns captured by some brutal potentate, +who forced them to mend his highways by breaking stones upon them with +very heavy hammers; and the historian mentioned, as a common +occurrence, that, when any sister dislocated her shoulder, one of her +comrades would set it, and the sufferer would then resume her labors. + +Mysie, having this warning before her eyes, and being doubtful of +Clarissa's surgical abilities, concluded to postpone her researches, and +proposed to her companion to fill the basket with shells and pebbles +from the beach, to which cowardly proposition Clarissa yielded but a +reluctant consent. + +The next day, however, Mr. F. and Caleb, learning the result of the +fossil-search, offered to apply their more efficient skill and strength +to a new attempt in the same direction; and, with high hopes for the +result, Mysie, still accompanied by Clarissa, proceeded to another +portion of the cliffs, where a low, wedge-shaped promontory, shadowed by +beetling crags, was, as Mr. F. confidently stated, "sure for teeth." + +The pickaxe, in the sinewy arms of its owner, soon dislodged great cakes +of the upper deposit and laid bare a stratum of olive-green clay, which +was announced to be a fossil-bed. Lumps of this clay being broken off +and crumbled up, proved indeed rich in deposit. They found sharks' +teeth, the edges still sharply serrated, firmly set in pieces of the +jawbone,--whales' teeth,--vertebrae of various species,--fragments of +bone, great and small,--several species of shell-fish, among which +chiefly abounded a kind called quahaug,--and many nondescript fragments, +not easily classified. One of these was a little bone closely resembling +the tibia of a child's leg, and may have belonged to some antediluvian +infant lost at sea, (if Noah's ancestors were mariners,) or perhaps +drowned in the Deluge,--for Mr. F. quoted an eminent geologist who has +visited the Vineyard, and who supposed these remains to have been +brought here by that mighty Flood-tide. Another _savant_, however, +supposes the island to have been thrown up from the sea by volcanic +action; and that the fossils, now imbedded in cliffs a hundred feet +high, were once deposited upon the bed of the ocean. There is certainly +a great amount of conglomerate, which has evidently been fused by +intense heat; and masses of rock, sea-pebbles, sand, and iron-ore are +now as firmly integrated as a piece of granite. + +However, the fossils came; here they certainly are; many of them perfect +in form, and light and porous to the eye, but all hard and heavy as +stone to the touch. Teeth, which are considered the most valuable of all +the remains, are sometimes found as wide as a man's hand, and weighing +several pounds; but Mysie was quite content with the more insignificant +weight of those which filled her basket, especially when an immense +reticulated paving-stone was added, which Mr. F. pronounced to be a +whale's vertebra. She then was induced to trust the precious collection +to Caleb's care, the more willingly that the ascent of the cliffs was +now to be attempted. This was easily and quickly accomplished by Mr. F. +and his little son, by going to the right spot before beginning to +climb; but Mysie declaring that the ascent was quite practicable where +they were, Caleb and Clarissa felt bound in honor to accompany her. For +some distance, all went very well,--the face of the cliff presuming +slight inequalities of surface, which answered for foot-and hand-holds, +and not being very steep; but suddenly Mysie, the leader of the group, +arriving within about three feet of the top, found the rock above her so +smooth as to give no possible foothold by which she might reach the +strong, coarse grass which nodded tauntingly to her over the brink. + +Clinging closely to the face of the cliff, she turned her head to +announce to Caleb that she could not go on, and, in turning, looked +down. Before this she had felt no fear, only perplexity; but the sight +of those cruel rocks below,--the hollow booming of the waves, as they +lashed the foot of the cliff,--the consciousness that a fall of a +hundred feet awaited her, should she let go her hold,--all this struck +terror to Mysie's heart; and while a heavy, confused noise came +throbbing and ringing through her head, she shut her eyes, and fancied +she had seen her last of earth. + +In an instant Caleb was beside her,--his arm about her, holding her +safely where she was; but to continue was impossible for either. + +"Ho! Mr. F.!" shouted Caleb; "come this way, will you, and give my wife +your hand? She is a little frightened, and can't go on." + +Presently a stout arm and hand appeared from among that nodding, mocking +grass, and a cheery voice exclaimed,-- + +"Here, my dear lady, take right hold, strong;--you can't pull me +over,--not if you try to." + +Unclasping, with some difficulty, her fingers from the rock, into which +they seemed to have grown, Mysie grasped the proffered hand, and the +next moment was safe upon the turf. + +"Oh, my good gracious!" muttered the kind old man; but whether the +exclamation was caused by Mysie's face, pale, no doubt, by the effort +necessary to raise her half-fainting figure, or by the idea of the peril +in which she had been, did not appear. + +Clarissa, calm and equable, was next passed up by Caleb, who, declining +the proffered hand, drew himself up, by a firm grasp upon the rocky +scarp of the cliff. + +"Guess you was scart some then, wa'n't you?" inquired Clarissa, as the +party walked homeward. + +"Oh, no!" replied Mysie, quickly. "But I could not get over the top of +the cliff alone,--it was so steep." + +"Oh, that was the matter?" drawled the child, with a sidelong glance of +her sharp black eyes. + +The northeast wind which went fossilizing with Mysie and Clara on their +first excursion was the precursor of a furious storm of rain and wind, +ranking, according to the dictum of experienced weatherseers, as little +inferior to that famous one in which fell the Minot's Ledge Light-house. + +As the gale reached its height, it was a sight at once terrible and +beautiful, to watch, standing in the lantern, the goaded sea, whose +foam-capped waves could plainly be seen at the horizon line, breaking +here and there upon sunken rocks, over which in their playful moods they +scarcely rippled, but on which they now dashed with such white fury as +to make them discernible, even through the darkness of night. One long, +low ridge of submarine rocks, around which seethed a perpetual caldron, +was called the Devil's Bridge; but when erected, or for what purpose, +tradition failed to state. + +Never, surely, did the wind rave about a peaceful inland dwelling as it +did about that lonely light-house for two long nights. It roared, it +howled, it shrieked, it whistled; it drew back to gather strength, and +then rushed to the attack with such mad fury, that the strong, young +light-house, whose frame was all of iron and stone, shrunk trembling +before it, and the children in their beds screamed aloud for fear. But +through all and beyond all, the calm, strong light sent out its +piercing, warning rays into the black night; and who can tell what +sinner it may that night have prevented from crossing the Devil's Bridge +to the world which lies beyond? + +There was but one wreck during the storm, so far as our travellers +heard; and in this the lives were saved. Two men, caught out in a +fishing-smack, finding that their little vessel was foundering, betook +themselves to their small boat; but this filled more rapidly than they +could bale it; and they had just given themselves up for lost, when +their signals of distress were observed on board the light-ship +stationed near Newport, which sent a life-boat to their assistance, and +rescued them just as their little boat went to pieces. + +When Mysie heard this occurrence mentioned, as they were journeying +homeward, it recalled to her mind a little incident of the day +succeeding the storm. + +Walking with Clara upon the beach, they saw borne toward them, on the +crest of a mighty wave, a square beam of wood, bent at an obtuse angle, +which Clara at once pronounced to be the knee from some large boat, and, +rushing dauntlessly into the water, the energetic little maid battled +with the wave for its unwieldy toy, and finally dragged it triumphantly +out upon the beach, and beyond the reach of the wave, only wishing that +she had "a piece of chalk to make father's mark upon it." Failing the +chalk, she rushed off home for "father and one of the boys," who soon +bestowed the prize in a place of safety. + +Mysie at first wondered considerably that persons should take so much +trouble for a piece of wood, but ceased to do so when she remembered +that on the whole island could not probably be found a tree of a foot in +diameter, and that everything like board or joist at the light-house +must be brought by sea to Holmes's Hole, Edgartown, or Menemshee, and +thence carted over _that_ road to Gay Head, becoming, by the time it +reached "the Light," not a common necessary, but an expensive luxury. +She was not, therefore, surprised at being accompanied in her next walk +along the beach by quite a little party of wreckers, who, joyfully +seizing every chip which the waves tossed within their reach, +accumulated at last a very respectable pile of drift-wood. + +"It would be a good thing for you, if the schooner "Mary Ann" should go +to pieces off here," remarked Mysie to Clara, who had become her +constant attendant. + +"Why?" inquired she, expectantly. + +"On account of her cargo. When hailed by another ship, and asked his +name, the captain replied,-- + + 'I'm Jonathan Homer, master and owner + Of the schooner Mary Ann; + She comes from Pank-a-tank, laden with oak plank, + And bound to Surinam.'" + +"Did he _really_ say so?" asked Clara, sharply. + +"I don't know," said Mysie, laughing; "but that's what I heard about it +when I was a little girl." + +While the storm continued too violent for out-of-door exercise, Mysie +cultivated an acquaintance with a remarkably pleasant and intelligent +lady who fortunately was making a visit at the light-house. She had been +for many years a resident of the Vineyard, and had taken great interest +in its history, both past and present. From her Mysie derived much +curious and interesting information. + +It seems that the island was first discovered by a certain Thomas +Mayhew, who, voyaging with others to settle in the Plymouth Colony +during its early days, was driven by stress of weather into a safe and +commodious bay, now Edgartown harbor, but then seen and used for the +first time by white men. The storm over, his companions prepared to +resume their voyage; but Mayhew, seeing the land fair and pleasant to +look upon, decided to remain there, and landed with whoever in the ship +belonged to him. + +He, of course, found the land in the hands of its original possessors, a +small and peaceful tribe of Indians, living quietly upon their own +island, and having very little communication with their neighbors. With +them Thomas Mayhew bargained for what land he wanted, selecting it in +what is now the town of Chilmark, and paying for it, to the satisfaction +of all parties, with an old soldier's coat which happened to be among +his possessions. + +In process of time, one of his sons, named Experience, having been +educated for the purpose in England, returned to his father's home as a +missionary to the kind and hospitable savages among whom he dwelt. So +prosperous were the labors of himself, and afterward of his son +Zachariah, that in a journal, kept by the latter, it is mentioned that +there were then upon the island twelve thousand "praying Indians." + +Experience Mayhew is still spoken of as "the great Indian missionary," +and the house in which he lived was still standing a few years since +upon the farm of Mr. Hancock in Chilmark. + +The island is to this day full of Mayhews of every degree,--so far, at +least, as distinctions of rank have obtained among this isolated and +primitive people. + +When Massachusetts erected herself into a State, and included the +Vineyard within her bounds, it was divided into the townships of +Edgartown, (or Oldtown,) Holmes's Hole, Tisbury, and Chilmark, and the +district of Gay Head, which last, with the island of Chip-a-quid-dick, +off Edgartown, and a small tract of land in Tisbury, named +Christian-town, were made over in perpetuity to the Indians who chose to +remain. They have not the power of alienating any portion of this +territory, nor may any white man build or dwell there. If, however, one +of the tribe marry out of the community, the alien husband or wife may +come to live with the native spouse so long as the marriage continues; +and the Indians have taken advantage of this permission to intermarry +with the negroes, until there is not one pure-blooded descendant of the +original stock remaining, and its physiognomy and complexion are in most +cases undistinguishable in the combination of the two races. + +Gay Head contains eleven hundred acres, seven of which are the +birthright of every Indian child; but it is not generally divided by +fences, the cattle of the whole tribe grazing together in amicable +companionship. Much of the value of the property lies in the +cranberry-meadows, which are large and productive, and in the beds of +rich peat. A great deal of the soil, however, is valuable for +cultivation, although but little used, as the majority of the men follow +the example of their white co-islanders, and plough the sea instead of +the land. They make excellent seamen, and sometimes rise to the rank of +officers, although few white sailors are sufficiently liberal in their +views to approve of being commanded by "a nigger," as they persist in +calling these half-breeds. + +The wigwams, which, no doubt, were at first erected here, have given +place to neat and substantial frame buildings, as comfortable, +apparently, as those in many New England villages. There is also a +nice-looking Baptist church, of which denomination almost every adult is +a member. Near this is a parsonage, occupied until lately by a white +clergyman; but the spirit of Experience Mayhew is not common in these +days; and his successor, finding the parish lonely and uncongenial, +removed to a pleasanter one,--his pulpit being now filled by a preacher +from among the Indians themselves. + +Mysie took occasion to call at one of these _quasi_ wigwams, soon after +her arrival, but could discern only one aboriginal vestige in either +inhabitants or customs. This existed in the shape of a dish of +succotash, (corn and beans boiled together,) which the good woman was +preparing for breakfast,--very possibly in ignorance that her ancestors +had cooked and eaten and named the compound ages before the white +intruders ever saw their shore. + +Mysie pursued her morning walk in a somewhat melancholy mood. It is a +sad and dreary sight to behold a nation in decay; saddest when the fall +is from so slight an elevation as that on which the savage stood. Greece +and Rome, falling into old age, proudly boast, "Men cannot say I did not +_have_ the crown"; each shows undying, unsurpassable achievements of her +day of power and strength,--each, if she live no longer in the sight of +the world, is sure of dwelling forever in its memory. But the +aboriginal, when his simple routine of life is broken up by the +intrusion of a people more powerful, more wicked, and more wise than +himself, is incapable of exchanging his own purely physical ambitions +and pursuits for the intellectual and cultivated life belonging to the +better class of his conquerors, while his wild and sensuous nature +grasps eagerly at the new forms of vice which follow in their train. +Civilization to the savage destroys his own existence, and gives him no +better one,--destroys it irremediably and forever. The life sufficient +for himself and for the day is not that which stretches its hand into +the future and sets its mark on ages not yet born; it dies and is +forgotten,--forgotten even by the descendants of those who lived it. + +Some of the Indian names still survive; and Mysie's indignation was +roused, when a descendant of the Mayhews, pointing out the hamlets of +Menemshee and Nashaquitsa, (commonly called Quitsy,) added, +contemptuously,-- + +"But them's only nicknames given by the colored folks; it's all Chilmark +by rights." + +"I suppose they are the names used by the ancestors of these Indians, +before a white man ever saw the island,--are they not?" inquired she, +somewhat dryly. + +"Like enough, like enough," replied the other, carelessly, and not in +the least appreciating the rebuke. + +From the lady before referred to Mysie received an answer to her +oft-repeated question,-- + +"Is there any tradition how the island received its name?" + +"Oh, yes," was the unexpected and welcome answer. "All the islands near +here were granted by the King of England to a gentleman whose name is +forgotten; but he had four daughters, among whom he divided his new +possessions. + +"This one, remarkable then, as now, in a degree, for its abundance of +wild grapes, he gave to Martha as her Vineyard. + +"The group to the north, consisting of Pennikeese, Cuttyhunk, Nashawena, +Naushon, Pasqui, and Punkatasset, are called the Elizabeth Islands, from +the daughter who inherited them. + +"That little island to the southwest of us was Naomi's portion. It is +now called Noman's Land, and is remarkable only for the fine quality of +the codfish caught and cured there. + +"The strangest of all, however, was the name given to the island +selected by Ann, which was first called Nan-took-it, and is now known as +Nantucket." + +"Thank Heaven, that I at last know something about Martha!" ejaculated +Mysie. + + * * * * * + +At length, every corner filled with _specimens_, every face deeply +imbrowned by sun and wind, and the Baron with only the ghost of a pair +of shoes to his feet, our travellers set their faces homeward,--Caleb +resolving to renew his acquaintance with the birds at some future +period, his imagination having been quite inflamed by the accounts of +plover and grouse to be found here in their season. The latter, however, +are very strictly protected by law during most of the season, on account +of the rapidity with which they were disappearing. They are identical +with the prairie-fowl, so common at the West, and are said to be +delicious eating. + +Desirous to improve their minds and manners by as much travel as +possible, the trio resolved to leave the island by the way of Edgartown, +the terminus of the steamboat route. Bidding adieu to their kind and +obliging host and hostess, the twelve children, and the pleasant new +friend, they set out, upon the most charming of all autumn days, for +Edgartown, fully prepared to be dazzled by its beauty and confounded by +its magnificence. + +"Edgartown is a much finer place than Holmes's Hole, I understand," +remarked Caleb to their driver. + +"Well, I dunno; it's some bigger," was the reply. + +"But it is a better sort of place, I am told; people from Edgartown +don't seem to think much of Holmes's Hole." + +"No, nor the Holmes's Hole folks don't think much of Oldtown; it's +pretty much according to who you talk to, which place is called the +handsomest, I reckon." + +"Athens or Rome, London or Paris, Oldtown or Holmes's Hole, Mysie," +murmured Caleb, as their driver stopped to reply to the driver of "a +team," who was anxious to know when he was "a-goin' to butcher agin." + +Edgartown proved to be a pretty little seaside town, with some handsome +wooden houses, a little bank, and a very nice tavern, at which the +travellers received very satisfactory entertainment. The next day, +reembarking upon the "Eagle's Wing," they soon reached New Bedford. + + + + +OCTOBER TO MAY. + + + The day that brightens half the earth + Is night to half. Ah, sweet! + One's mourning is another's mirth;-- +You wear your bright years like a crown,-- +While mine, dead garlands, tangle down + In chains about my feet. + + The breeze which wakes the folded flower + Sweeps dead leaves from the tree;-- + So partial Time, as hour by hour +He tells the rapid years,--cheu! +Brings bloom and beauty still to you, + But leaves his blight with me. + + The rain which calls the violet up + Out of the moistened mould + Shatters the wind-flower's fragile cup;-- +For even Nature has her pets, +And, favoring the new, forgets + To love and spare the old. + + The shower which makes the bud a rose + Beats off the lilac-bloom. + I am a lilac,--so life goes,-- +A lilac that has outlived May;-- +You are a blush-rose. Welladay! + I pass, and give you room! + + + + +THE ELEUSINIA. + + +What did the Eleusinia mean? Perhaps, reader, you think the question of +little interest. "The Eleusinia! Why, Lobeck made that little matter +clear long ago; and there was Porphyry, who told us that the whole thing +was only an illustration of the Platonic philosophy. St. Croix, too,--he +made the affair as clear as day!" + +But the question is not so easily settled, my friend; and I insist upon +it that you _have_ an interest in it. Were I to ask you the meaning of +Freemasonry, you would think _that_ of importance; you could not utter +the name without wonder; and it may be that there is even more wonder in +it than you suspect,--though you be an arch-mason yourself. But in sight +of Eleusis, freemasonry sinks into insignificance. For, of all races, +the Grecian was the most mysterious; and, of all Grecian mysteries, the +Eleusinia were _the_ mysteries _par excellence_. They must certainly +have meant something to Greece,--something more than can ever be +adequately known to us. A farce is soon over; but the Eleusinia reached +from the mythic Eumolpus to Theodosius the Great,--nearly two thousand +years. Think you that all Athens, every fifth year, for more than sixty +generations, went to Eleusis to witness and take part in a sham? + +But, reader, let _us_ go to Eleusis, and see, for ourselves, this great +festival. Suppose it to be the 15th of September, B.C. 411, Anno Mundi +3593 (though we would not make oath to that). It is a fine morning at +Athens, and every one is astir, for it is the day of assembling together +at Eleusis. Then, for company, we shall have Plato, now eighteen years +old, Sophocles, an old man of eighty-four, Euripides, at sixty-nine, and +Aristophanes, at forty-five. Socrates, who has his peculiar notions +about things, is not one of the initiated, but will go with us, if we +ask him. These are the _élite_ of Athens. Then there are the Sophists +and their young disciples, and the vast crowd of the Athenian people. +Some of the oldest among them may have seen and heard the "Prometheus +Vinctus"; certainly very many of them have seen "Antigone," and +"Oedipus," and "Electra"; and all of them have heard the Rhapsodists. +Great wonders have they seen and heard, which, in their appeal to the +heart, transcend all the wonders of this nineteenth century. Not more +fatal to the poor Indian was modern civilization, bringing swift ruin to +his wigwam and transforming his hunting-grounds into the sites of +populous cities, than modern improvements would have been to the Greek. +Modern strategy! What a subject for Homer would the siege of Troy have +been, had it consisted of a series of pitched battles with rifles! +Railways, steamboats, and telegraphs, annihilating space and time, would +also have annihilated the Argonautic expedition and the wanderings of +Ulysses. There would have been little fear, in a modern steamship, of +the Sirens' song; one whistle would have broken the charm. A modern +steamship might have borne Ulysses to Hades,--but it would never have +brought him back, as his own ship did. And now do you think a ride to +Eleusis by railway to-day would strike this Athenian populace, to say +nothing of the philosophers and poets we have along with us? + +But they are thinking of Eleusis, and not of the way to Eleusis; so that +we may as well keep our suggestion to ourselves,--also those pious +admonitions which we were just about to administer to our companions on +heathenish superstitions. A strange fascination these Athenians have; +and before we are aware, _our_ thoughts, too, are centred in Eleusis, +whither are tending, not Athens only, but vast multitudes from all +Greece. Their movement is tumultuous; but it is a tumult of natural +enthusiasm, and not of Bacchic frenzy. If Athens be, as Milton calls +her, "the eye of Greece," surely Eleusis must be its heart! + +There are nine days of the festival. This first is the day of the +_agurmos_, ([Greek: agyrmos],) or assembling together the flux of +Grecian life into the secret chambers of its Eleusinian heart. To-morrow +is the day of purification; then, "To the sea, all ye that are +initiated!" ([Greek: Alade, mystai!]) lest any come with the stain of +impurity to the mysteries of God. The third day is the day of +sacrifices, that the heart also may be made pure, when are offered +barley from the fields of Eleusis and a mullet. All other sacrifices may +be tasted; but _this_ is for Demeter alone, and not to be touched by +mortal lips. On the fourth day, we join the procession bearing the +sacred basket of the goddess, filled with curious symbols, grains of +salt, carded wool, sesame, pomegranates, and poppies,--symbols of the +gifts of our Great Mother and of her mighty sorrow. On the night of the +fifth, we are lost in the hurrying tumult of the torch-light +processions. Then there is the sixth day, the great day of all, when +from Athens the statue of Iacchus (Bacchus) is borne, crowned with +myrtle, tumultuously through the sacred gate, along the sacred way, +halting by the sacred fig-tree, (all sacred, mark you, from Eleusinian +associations,) where the procession rests, and then moves on to the +bridge over the Cephissus, where again it rests, and where the +expression of the wildest grief gives place to the trifling farce,--even +as Demeter, in the midst of her grief, smiled at the levity of Iambe in +the palace of Celeus. Through the "mystical entrance" we enter Eleusis. +On the seventh day, games are celebrated; and to the victor is given a +measure of barley,--as it were a gift direct from the hand of the +goddess. The eighth is sacred to Aesculapius, the Divine Physician, who +heals all diseases; and in the evening is performed the initiatory +ritual. + +Let us enter the mystic temple and be initiated,--though it must be +supposed that a year ago we were initiated into the Lesser Mysteries at +Agræ. ("_Certamen enim,--et præludium certaminis; et mysteria sunt quæ +præcedunt mysteria_.") We must have been _mystæ_ (veiled) before we can +become _epoptæ_ (seers); in plain English, we must have shut our eyes to +all else before we can behold the mysteries. Crowned with myrtle, we +enter with the other _mystæ_ into the vestibule of the temple,--blind as +yet, but the Hierophant within will soon open our eyes. + +But first,--for here we must do nothing rashly,--first we must wash in +this holy water; for it is with pure hands and a pure heart that we are +bidden to enter the most sacred inclosure. Then, led into the presence +of the Hierophant, he reads to us, from a book of stone, things which we +must not divulge on pain of death. Let it suffice that they fit the +place and the occasion; and though you might laugh at them, if they were +spoken outside, still you seem very far from that mood now, as you hear +the words of the old man (for old he always was) and look upon the +revealed symbols. And very far indeed are you from ridicule, when +Demeter seals, by her own peculiar utterances and signals, by vivid +coruscations of light, and cloud piled upon cloud, all that we have seen +and heard from her sacred priest; and when, finally, the light of a +serene wonder fills the temple, and we see the pure fields of Elysium +and hear the choirs of the Blessed;--then, not merely by external +seeming or philosophic interpretation, but in real fact, does the +Hierophant become the Creator and Revealer of all things; the Sun is but +his torch-bearer, the Moon his attendant at the altar, and Hermes his +mystic herald. But the final word has been uttered: "_Conx Ompax_." The +rite is consummated, and we are _epoptæ_ forever! + +One day more, and the Eleusinia themselves are completed. As in the +beginning by lustration and sacrifices we conciliated the favor of the +gods, so now by libation we finally commend ourselves to their care. +Thus did the Greeks begin all things with lustration and end with +libation, each day, each feast,--all their solemn treaties, their +ceremonies, and sacred festivals. But, like all else Eleusinian, this +libation must be _sui generis_, emptied from two bowls,--the one toward +the East, the other toward the West. Thus is finished this Epos, or, as +Clemens Alexandrinus calls it, the "mystical drama" of the Eleusinia. + +Now, reader, you have seen the Mysteries. And what do they mean? Let us +take care lest we deceive ourselves, as many before us have done, by +merely _looking_ at the Eleusinia. + +Oh, this everlasting staring! This it is that leads us astray. That old +stargazer, with whom Aesop has made us acquainted, deserved, indeed, to +fall into the well, no less for his profanity than his stupidity. Yet +this same star-gazing it is that we miscall reflection. Thus, in our +blank wonder at Nature, in our naked analysis of her life, expressed +through long lists of genera and species and mathematical calculations, +as if we were calling off the roll of creation, or as if her depth of +meaning rested in her vast orbs and incalculable velocities,--in all +this we fail of her real mystery. + +To mere external seeming, the Eleusinia point to Demeter for their +interpretation. To _her_ are they consecrated,--of her grief are they +commemorative; out of reverence to her do the _mystæ_ purify themselves +by lustration and by the sacrifice that may not be tasted; she it is who +is symbolized, in the procession of the basket, as our Great Mother, +through the salt, wool, and sesame, which point to her bountiful +gifts,--while by the poppies and pomegranates it is hinted that she +nourishes in her heart some profound sorrow: by the former, that she +seeks to bury this sorrow in eternal oblivion,--by the latter, that it +must be eternally reiterated. The procession of the torches defines the +sorrow; and by this wild, despairing search in the darkness do we know +that her daughter Proserpine, plucking flowers in the fields of light, +has been snatched by ruthless Pluto to the realm of the Invisible. Then +by the procession of Iacchus we learn that divine aid has come to the +despairing Demeter; by the coming of, Aesculapius shall all her wounds +be healed; and the change in the evening from the _mystæ_ to _epoptæ_ is +because that now to Demeter, the cycle of her grief being accomplished, +the ways of Jove are made plain,--even his permission of violence from +unseen hands; to _her_ also is the final libation. + +But the story of the stolen Proserpina is itself an afterthought, a +fable invented to explain the Mysteries; and, however much it may have +modified them in detail, certainly could not have been their ground. Nor +is the sorrowing Demeter herself adequate to the solution. For the +Eleusinia are older than Eleusis,--older than Demeter, even the Demeter +of Thrace,--certainly as old as Isis, who was to Egypt what Demeter was +to Greece,--the Great Mother[2] of a thousand names, who also had _her_ +endlessly repeated sorrow for the loss of Osiris, and in honor of whom +the Egyptians held an annual festival. Thus we only remove the mystery +back to the very verge of myth itself; and we must either give up the +solution or take a different course. But perhaps Isis will reveal +herself, and at the same time unveil the Mysteries. Let us read her +tablet: "I am all that, has been, all that is, all that is to be; and +the veil which is over my face no mortal hand hath ever raised!" Now, +reader, would it not be strange, if, in solving _her_ mystery, we should +also solve the Sphinx's riddle? But so it is. This is the Sphinx in her +eldest shape,--this Isis of a thousand names; and the answer to her +ever-recurring riddle is always the same. In the Human Spirit is +infolded whatsoever has been, is, or shall be; and mortality cannot +reveal it! + +Not to Demeter, then, nor even to Isis, do the Eleusinia primarily +point, but to the human heart. We no longer look at them; henceforth +they are within us. Long has this mystic mother, the wonder of the +world, waited for the revelation of her face. Let us draw aside the +veil, (not by mortal hand,--it moves at your will,) and listen:-- + +"I am the First and the Last,--mother of gods and men. As deep as is my +mystery, so deep is my sorrow. For, lo! all generations are mine. But +the fairest fruit of my Holy Garden was plucked by my mortal children; +since which, Apollo among men and Artemis among women have raged with +their fearful arrows. My fairest children, whom I have brought forth and +nourished in the light, have been stolen by the children of darkness. By +the Flood they were taken; and I wandered forty days and forty nights +upon the waters, ere again I saw the face of the earth. Then, wherever I +went, I brought joy; at Cyprus the grasses sprang up beneath my feet, +the golden-filleted Horæ crowned me with a wreath of gold and clothed me +in immortal robes. Then, also, was renewed my grief; for Adonis, whom I +had chosen, was slain in the chase and carried to Hades. Six months I +wept his loss, when he rose again and I triumphed. Thus in Egypt I +mourned for Osiris, for Atys in Phrygia, and for Proserpina at +Eleusis,--all of whom passed to the underworld, were restored for a +season, and then retaken. Thus is my sorrow repeated without end. All +things are taken from me. Night treads upon the heels of Day, the +desolation of Winter wastes the fair fruit of Summer, and Death walks in +the ways of Life with inexorable claims. But at the last, through Him, +my First-begotten and my Best-beloved, who also died and descended into +Hades, and the third day rose again,--through Him, having ceased from +wandering, I shall triumph in Infinite Joy!" + +_That_, reader, is not so difficult to translate into human language. +Thus, from the beginning to the end of the world, do these Mysteries, +under various names, shadow forth the great problem of human life, which +problem, as being fundamental, must be religious, the same that is +shadowed forth in Nature and Revelation, namely: man's sin, and his +redemption from sin,--his great loss, his infinite error, and his final +salvation. + +Sorrow, so strong a sense of which pervaded these Mysteries that it was +the name (Achtheia) by which Demeter was known to her mystic +worshippers,--_human_ sorrow it was which veiled the eyelids; toward +which veiling (or _muesis_) the lotus about the head of Isis and the +poppy in the hand of Demeter distinctly point. Hence the _mystæ_, whom +the reader must suppose to have closed their eyes to all without +them,--even to Nature, except as in sympathy she mirrors forth the +central sorrow of their hearts. But this same sorrow and its mighty +work, veiled from all mortal vision, shut out by very necessity from any +sympathy save that of God, is a preparation for a purer vision,--a +second initiation, in which the eyes shall be reopened and the _mystæ_ +become _epoptæ_; and of such significance was this higher vision to the +Greek, that it was a synonyme for the highest earthly happiness and a +foretaste of Elysium. + +As this vision of the _epoptæ_ was the vision of real faith, so the +_muesis_, or veiling of the _mystæ_, was no mere affectation of +mysticism. Not so easily could be set aside this weight of sorrow upon +the eyelids, which, notwithstanding that, leading to self, it leads to +wandering, leads also through Divine aid to that peace which passeth +all understanding. Thus were the Hebrews led out of Egyptian bondage +through wanderings in the Wilderness to the Promised Land. Even thus, +through rites and ceremonies which to us are hieroglyphics hard to be +deciphered, which are known only as shrouded in infinite sorrow,--as +dimly shadowing forth some wild search in darkness and some final +resurrection into light,--through these, many from Egypt and India and +Scythia, from Scandinavia and from the aboriginal forests of America, +have for unnumbered ages passed from a world of bewildering error to the +heaven of their hopes. To the eye of sense and to shallow infidelity, +this may seem absurd; but the foolishness of man is the wisdom of God to +the salvation of His erring children. Happy, indeed, are the initiated! +Blessed are the poor in spirit, the Pariah, and the slave,--all they +whose eyes are veiled with overshadowing sorrow! for only thus is +revealed the glory of human life! + +There are many things, kind reader, which, in our senseless staring, we +may call the signs of human weakness, but which, by a higher +interpretation, become revelations of human power. The gross and +pitiable features of the world are dissolved and clarified, when by an +impassioned sympathy we can penetrate to the heart of things. We are +about to pity the ragged vesture, the feeble knees, and the beseeching +hand of poverty, and the cries of the oppressed and the weary; but, at a +thought, Pity is slain by Reverence. We are ready to cry out against the +sluggish movement of the world and its lazy flux of life; but before the +satire is spoken, we are fascinated by an undercurrent of this same +world, earnest and full toward its sure goal,--of which, indeed, we only +dream; but "the dream is from God,"[3] and surer than sight. There is a +profounder calm than appears to the eye, in the quiet cottages scattered +up and down among the peaceful valleys; the rest of death is more +untroubled than the marble face which it leaves as its visible symbol; +and sleep, "the minor mystery of death," ([Greek: hypnos ta mikra tou +thanutou mystêria][4]) has a deeper significance than is revealed in any +external token. So what is sneeringly called the credulity of human +nature is its holy faith, and, in spite of all the hard facts which you +may charge upon it, is the glory of man. It introduces us into that +region where "nothing is unexpected, nothing impossible."[5] It was the +glory of our childhood, and by it childhood is made immortal. Myth +herself is ever a child,--a genuine child of the earth, indeed,--but +received among men as the child of Heaven. + +Upon the slightest material basis have been constructed myths and +miracles and fairy-tales without number; and so it must ever be. Thus +man asserts his own inherent strength of imagination and faith over +against the external fact. Whatsoever is facile to Imagination is also +facile to Faith. Easy, therefore, in our thoughts, is the transition +from the Cinder-wench in the ashes to the Cinderella of the palace; easy +the apotheosis of the slave, and the passage from the weary earth to the +fields of Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed. + +This flight of the Imagination, this vision of Faith,--_these_, reader, +are only for the _epoptæ_. It matters not, that, by naked analysis, you +can prove that the palaces of our fancy and the temples of our faith are +but the baseless fabric of a dream. It may be that the greater part of +life is made up of dreams, and that wakefulness is merely incidental as +a relief to the picture. It may be, indeed, in the last analysis, that +the _ideal_ is the highest, if not the only _real_. + +For the sensible, palpable fact can, by the nature of things, exist for +us only in the Present. But, my dear reader, it is just here, in this +Present, that the tenure by which we have hold upon life is the most +frail and shadowy. For, by the strictest analysis, _there is no +Present_. The formula, _It is_, even before we can give it utterance, by +some subtile chemistry of logic, is resolved into _It was_ and _It +shall be_. Thus by our analysis do we retreat into the ideal. In the +deepest reflection, all that we call external is only the material basis +upon which our dreams are built; and the sleep that surrounds life +swallows up life,--all but a dim wreck of matter, floating this way and +that, and forever evanishing from sight. Complete the analysis, and we +lose even the shadow of the external Present, and only the Past and the +Future are left us as our sure inheritance. This is the first +initiation,--the veiling of the eyes to the external. But, as _epoptæ_, +by the synthesis of this Past and Future in a living nature, we obtain a +higher, an ideal Present, comprehending within itself all that can be +real for us within us or without. This is the second initiation, in +which is unveiled to us the Present as a new birth from our own life. + +Thus the great problem of Idealism is symbolically solved in the +Eleusinia. For us there is nothing real except as we _realize_ it. Let +it be that myriads have walked upon the earth before us,--that each race +and generation has wrought its change and left its monumental record +upon pillar and pyramid and obelisk; set aside the ruin which Time has +wrought both upon the change and the record, levelling the cities and +temples of men, diminishing the shadows of the Pyramids, and rendering +more shadowy the names and memories of heroes,--obliterating even its +own ruin;--set aside this oblivion of Time, still there would be +hieroglyphics,--still to us all that comes from this abyss of Time +behind us, or from the abyss of Space around us, must be but dim and +evanescent imagery and empty reverberation of sound, except as, becoming +a part of our own life, by a new birth, it receives shape and +significance. Nothing can be unveiled to us till it is born of us. Thus +the _epoptæ_ are both creators and interpreters. Strength of knowledge +and strength of purpose, lying at the foundation of our own nature, +become also the measure of our interpretation of all Nature. Therefore +in each successive cycle of human history, as we realize more completely +the great Ideal, our appreciation of the Past increases, and our hope of +the Future. The difference lies not in the _data_ of history, but in +what we make of the _data_. + +We cannot see too clearly that the great problem of life, in Philosophy, +Art, or Religion, is essentially the same from the beginning. Like +Nature, indeed, it repeats itself under various external phases, in +different ages and under different skies. History whispers from her +antediluvian lips of a race of giants; so does the earth reveal mammoths +and stupendous forests. But the wonder neither of Man nor of Nature was +greater then than now. We say much, too, of Progress. But the progress +does not consist in a change of the fundamental problem of the race; we +have only learned to use our material so that we effect our changes more +readily, and write our record with a finer touch and in clearer outline. +The progress is in the facility and elaboration, and may be measured in +Space and Time; but the Ideal is ever the same and immeasurable. Homer +is hard to read; but when once you have read him you have read all +poetry. Or suppose that Orpheus, instead of striving with his mythic +brother Cheiron, were to engage in a musical contest with Mozart, and +you, reader? were to adjudge the prize. Undoubtedly you would give the +palm to Mozart. Not that Mozart is the better musician; the difficulty +is all in your ear, my friend. If you could only hear the nice +vibrations of the "golden shell," you might reverse your decision. + +So in Religion; the central idea, if you can only discern it, is ever +the same. She no longer, indeed, looks with the bewildered gaze of her +childhood to the mountains and rivers, to the sun, moon, and stars, for +aid. In the fulness of time the veil is rent in twain, and she looks +beyond with a clearer eye to the surer signs that are visible of her +unspeakable glory. But the longing of her heart is ever the same. + +What remains to us of ancient systems of faith is, for the most part, +mere name and shadow. It is even more difficult for us to realize to +ourselves a single ceremony of Grecian worship,--for instance, a dance +in honor of Apollo,--in its subtile meaning, than it would be to +appreciate the "Prometheus" of Æschylus. This ignorance leads oftentimes +to the most shocking profanation; and from mere lack of vision we +ridicule much that should call forth our reverence. + +Thus many Christian writers have sought to throw ridicule upon the +Eleusinia. But we must remember, that, to Greece, throughout her whole +history, they presented a well-defined system of faith,--that, +essentially, they even served the function of a church by their inherent +idea of divine discipline and purification and the hope which they ever +held out of future resurrection and glory. Why, then, you ask, if they +were so pure and full of meaning, why was not such a man as Socrates one +of the Initiated? The reason, reader, was simply this: What the +Eleusinia furnished to Greece, that Socrates furnished to himself. That +man who could stand stock-still a whole day, lost in silent +contemplation, what was the need to him of the Eleusinian veil? The most +self-sufficient man in all Greece, who could find the way directly to +himself and to the mystery and responsibility of his own will without +the medium of external rites, to whom there were the ever-present +intimations of his strange Divinity,--what need to him of the Eleusinian +revealings or their sublime self-intuition ([Greek: autopsia])? He had +his own separate tragedy also. And when with his last words he requested +that a cock be sacrificed to Æsculapius, that, reader, was to indicate +that to him had come the eighth day of the drama, in which the Great +Physician brings deliverance,--and in the evening of which there should +be the final unveiling of the eyes in the presence of the Great +Hierophant! + +Such were the Eleusinia of Greece. But what do they mean to us? We have +already hinted at their connection with the Sphinx's riddle. It is +through this connection that they receive their most general +significance; for this riddle is the riddle of the race, and the problem +which it involves can be adequately realized only in the life of the +race. To Greece, as peculiarly sensitive to all that is tragical, the +Sphinx connected her questions most intimately with human sorrow, either +in the individual or the household. + +"Who is it," thus the riddle ran, "who is it that in the morning creeps +upon all-fours, touching the earth in complete dependence,--and at noon, +grown into the fulness of beauty and strength, walks erect with his face +toward heaven,--but at the going down of the sun, returns again to his +original frailty and dependence?" + +This, answered Oedipus, is Man; and most fearfully did he realize it in +his own life! In the mysteries of the Eleusinia there is the same +prominence of human sorrow,--only here the Sphinx propounds her riddle +in its religious phase; and in the change from the _mystæ_ to the +_epoptæ_, in the revelation of the central self, was the great problem +symbolically realized. + +Greece had her reckoning; and to her eye the Sphinx long ago seemed to +plunge herself headlong into precipitate destruction. But this strange +lady is ever reappearing with her awful alternative: they who cannot +solve her riddle must die. It is no trifling account, reader, which we +have with this lady. For now her riddle has grown to fearful +proportions, connecting itself with the rise and fall of empires, with +the dim realm of superstition, with vast systems of philosophy and +faith. And the answer is always the same: "That which hath been is that +which shall be; and that which hath been is named already,--and it is +known that it is Man." + +What is it that shall explain the difference between our map of the +world and that of Sesostris or Anaximander? Geological deposits, the +washing away of mountains, and the change of river-courses are certainly +but trifling in such an account. But an Argonautic expedition, a Trojan +siege, a Jewish exodus, Nomadic invasions, and the names of Hanno, +Cæsar, William the Conqueror, and Columbus, suggest an explanation. It +is the flux of human life which must account for the flowing outline of +the earth's geography. As with the terrestrial, so with the celestial. +The heavens change by a subtiler movement than the precession of the +equinoxes. In Job, "Behold the height of the stars, how high they are!" +but to Homer they bathe in the Western seas; while to us, they are again +removed to an incalculable distance,--but at the same time so near, +that, in our hopes, they are the many mansions of our Father's house, +the stepping-stones to our everlasting rest. + +But there is also another map, reader, more shadowy in its outline, of +an invisible region, neither of the heavens nor of the earth,--but +having vague relations to each, with a secret history of its own, of +which now and then strange tales and traditions are softly whispered in +our ear,--where each of us has been, though no two ever tell the same +story of their wanderings. Strange to say, each one calls all other +tales superstitions and old-wives' fables; but observe, he always +trembles when he tells his own. But they are all true; there is not one +old-wife's fable on the list. Necromancers have had private interviews +with visitors who had no right to be seen this side the Styx. The Witch +of Endor and the raising of Samuel were literal facts. Above all others, +the Nemesis and Eumenides were facts not to be withstood. And, +philosophize as we may, ghosts have been seen at dead of night, and not +always under the conduct of Mercury;[6] even the Salem witchcraft was +very far from being a humbug. They are all true,--the gibbering ghost, +the riding hag, the enchantment of wizards, and all the miracles of +magic, none of which we have ever seen with the eye, but all of which we +believe at heart. But who is it that weirdly draws aside the dark +curtain? Who is this mystic lady, ever weaving at her loom,--weaving +long ago, and weaving yet,--singing with unutterable sadness, as she +interweaves with her web all the sorrows and shadowy fears that ever +were or that ever shall be? We know, indeed, that she weaves the web of +Fate and the curtain of the Invisible; for we have seen her work. We +know, too, that she alone can show the many-colored web or draw aside +the dark curtain; for we have seen her revelations. But who is _she_? + +Ay, reader, the Sphinx puts close questions now and then; but there is +only one answer that can satisfy her or avert death. This person,--the +only real mystery which can exist for you,--of all things the most +familiar, and at the same the most unfamiliar,--is yourself! You need +not speak in whispers. It is true, this lady has a golden quiver as well +as a golden distaff; but her arrows are all for those who cannot solve +her riddle. + +Protagoras, then, was right; and, looking back through these twenty-two +centuries, we nod assent to his grand proposition: "Man is the measure +of all things,--of the possible, how it is,--of the impossible, how it +is not." In the individual life are laid the foundations of the +universe, and upon each individual artist depend the symmetry and +meaning of the constructed whole. This Master-Artist it is who holds the +keys of life and death; and whatsoever he shall bind or loose in his +consciousness shall be bound or loosed throughout the universe. Apart +from him, Nature is resolved into an intangible, shapeless vanity of +silence and darkness,--without a name, and, in fact, no Nature at all. +To man, all Nature must be human in some soul. God himself is worshipped +under a human phase; and it is here that Christianity, the flower of all +Faith, furnishes the highest answer and realization of this world-riddle +of the Sphinx,--here that it rests its eternal Truth, even as here it +secures its unfailing appeal to the human heart! + +The process by which any nature is _realized_ is the process by which it +is _humanized_. Thus are all things given to us for an inheritance. Let +it be, that, apart from us, the universe sinks into insignificance and +nothingness; _to_ us it is a royal possession; and we are all kings, +with a dominion as unlimited as our desire. _Ubi Cæsar, ibi Roma!_ Rome +is the world; and each man, if he will, is Cæsar. + +_If he will_;--ay, there's the rub! In the strength of his will lie +glory and absolute sway. But if he fail, then becomes evident the +frailty of his tenure,--"he is a king of shreds and patches!" + +Here is the crying treachery; and thus it happens that there are slaves +and craven hearts. This is the profound pathos of history, (for the +Sphinx has always more or less of sadness in her face,) which enters so +inevitably into all human triumphs. The monuments of Egypt, the palaces +and tombs of her kings,--revelations of the strength of will,--also by +inevitable suggestions call to our remembrance successive generations of +slaves and their endless toil. Morn after morn, at sunrise, for +thousands of years, did Memnon breathe forth his music, that his name +might be remembered upon the earth; but his music was the swell of a +broken harp, and his name was whispered in mournful silence! Among the +embalmed dead, in urn-burials, in the midst of catacombs, and among the +graves upon our hillsides and in our valleys, there lurks the same sad +mockery. Surely "purple Death and the strong Fates do conquer us!" +Strangely, in vast solitudes, comes over us a sense of desolation, when +even the faintest adumbrations of life seem lost in the inertia of +mortality. In all pomp lurks the pomp of funeral; and we do now and then +pay homage to the grim skeleton king who sways this dusty earth,--yea, +who sways our hearts of dust! + +But it is only when we yield that we are conquered. "The daemon shall +not choose us, _but we shall choose our daemon_."[7] It is only when we +lose hold of our royal inheritance that Time is seen with his scythe and +the heritage becomes a waste. + +This is the failure, the central loss, over which Achtheia mourns. Happy +are the _epoptæ_ who know this, who have looked the Sphinx in the face, +and escaped death! They are the seers, they the heroes! + +But "_Conx Ompax_!" + +And now, like good Grecians, let us make the double libation to our +lady,--toward the East and toward the West. That is an important point, +reader; for thus is recognized the intimate connection which our lady +has with the movements of Nature, in which her life is mirrored,-- +especially with the rising, the ongoing, and the waning of the day; and +you remember that this also was the relief of the Sphinx's riddle,--this +same movement from the rising to the setting sun. But prominently, as in +all worship, are our eyes turned toward the East,--toward the +resurrection. In the tomb of Memnon, at Thebes, are wrought two series +of paintings; in the one, through successive stages, the sun is +represented in his course from the East to the West,--and in the other +is represented, through various stages, his return to the Orient. It was +to this Orient that the old king looked, awaiting his regeneration. + +Thus, reader, in all nations,--by no mere superstition, but by a +glorious symbolism of Faith,--do the children of the earth lay them down +in their last sleep with their faces to the East. + + +[2] The worship of this Great Mother is not more wonderful for +its antiquity in time than for its prevalence as regards space. To the +Hindu she was the Lady Isani. She was the Ceres of Roman mythology, the +Cybele of Phrygia and Lydia, and the Disa of the North. According to +Tacitus, (_Germania_, c. 9,) she was worshipped by the ancient Suevi. +She was worshipped by the Muscovite, and representations of her are +found upon the sacred drums of the Laplanders. She swayed the ancient +world, from its southeast corner in India to Scandinavia in the +northwest; and everywhere she is the "Mater Dolorosa." And who is it, +reader, that in the Christian world struggles for life and power under +the name of the Holy Virgin, and through the sad features of the +Madonna? + +[3] _Iliad_, I. 63. + +[4] Euripides. + +[5] Archilochus. + +[6] This function of Mercury, as Psycho-Pompos, or conductor of +departed souls to Hades, is often misunderstood. He was a Pompos not so +much for the safety of the dead (though that was an important +consideration) as for the peace of the living. The Greeks had an +overwhelming fear of the dead, as is evident from the propitiatory rites +to their shades; hence the necessity of putting them under strict +charge,--even against their will. (Horace, I. Ode xxiv. 15.) All +Mercury's qualifications point to this office, by which he defends the +living against the invasions of the dead. Hence his craft and +agility;--for who so fleet and subtle as a ghost? + +[7] Plato's _Republic_, at the close. + + + + +THE MINISTER'S WOOING. + +[Continued.] + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mary returned to the house with her basket of warm, fresh eggs, which +she set down mournfully upon the table. In her heart there was one +conscious want and yearning, and that was to go to the friends of him +she had lost,--to go to his mother. The first impulse of bereavement is +to stretch out the hands towards what was nearest and dearest to the +departed. + +Her dove came fluttering down out of the tree, and settled on her hand, +and began asking in his dumb way to be noticed. Mary stroked his white +feathers, and bent her head down over them till they were wet with +tears. "Oh, birdie, you live, but he is gone!" she said. Then suddenly +putting it gently from her, and going near and throwing her arms around +her mother's neck,--"Mother," she said, "I want to go up to Cousin +Ellen's." (This was the familiar name by which she always called Mrs. +Marvyn.) "Can't you go with me, mother?" + +"My daughter, I have thought of it. I hurried about my baking this +morning, and sent word to Mr. Jenkyns that he needn't come to see about +the chimney, because I expected to go as soon as breakfast should be out +of the way. So, hurry, now, boil some eggs, and get on the cold beef and +potatoes; for I see Solomon and Amaziah coming in with the milk. They'll +want their breakfast immediately." + +The breakfast for the hired men was soon arranged on the table, and Mary +sat down to preside while her mother was going on with her +baking,--introducing various loaves of white and brown bread into the +capacious oven by means of a long iron shovel, and discoursing at +intervals with Solomon, with regard to the different farming operations +which he had in hand for the day. + +Solomon was a tall, large-boned man, brawny and angular; with a face +tanned by the sun, and graven with those considerate lines which New +England so early writes on the faces of her sons. He was reputed an +oracle in matters of agriculture and cattle, and, like oracles +generally, was prudently sparing of his responses. Amaziah was one of +those uncouth over-grown boys of eighteen whose physical bulk appears to +have so suddenly developed that the soul has more matter than she has +learned to recognize, so that the hapless individual is always awkwardly +conscious of too much limb; and in Amaziah's case, this consciousness +grew particularly distressing when Mary was in the room. He liked to +have her there, he said,--"but, somehow, she was so white and pretty, +she made him feel sort o' awful-like." + +Of course, as such poor mortals always do, he must, on this particular +morning, blunder into precisely the wrong subject. + +"S'pose you've heerd the news that Jeduthun Pettibone brought home in +the 'Flying Scud,' 'bout the wreck o' the 'Monsoon'; it's an awful +providence, that 'ar' is,--a'n't it? Why, Jeduthun says she jest crushed +like an egg-shell";--and with that Amaziah illustrated the fact by +crushing an egg in his great brown hand. + +Mary did not answer. She could not grow any paler than she was before; a +dreadful curiosity came over her, but her lips could frame no question. +Amaziah went on:-- + +"Ye see, the cap'en he got killed with a spar when the blow fust come +on, and Jim Marvyn he commanded; and Jeduthun says that he seemed to +have the spirit of ten men in him; he worked and he watched, and he was +everywhere at once, and he kep' 'em all up for three days, till finally +they lost their rudder, and went drivin' right onto the rocks. When, +they come in sight, he come up on deck, and says he, 'Well, my boys, +we're headin' right into eternity,' says he, 'and our chances for this +world a'n't worth mentionin', any on us; but we'll all have one try for +our lives. Boys, I've tried to do my duty by you and the ship,--but +God's will be done! All I have to ask now is, that, if any of you git to +shore, you'll find my mother and tell her I died thinkin' of her and +father and my dear friends.' That was the last Jeduthun saw of him; for +in a few minutes more the ship struck, and then it was every man for +himself. Laws! Jeduthun says there couldn't nobody have stood beatin' +agin them rocks, unless they was all leather and inger-rubber like him. +Why, he says the waves would take strong men and jest crush 'em against +the rocks like smashin' a pie-plate!" + +Here Mary's paleness became livid; she made a hasty motion to rise from +the table, and Solomon trod on the foot of the narrator. + +"You seem to forget that friends and relations has feelin's," he said, +as Mary hastily went into her own room. + +Amaziah, suddenly awakened to the fact that he had been trespassing, sat +with mouth half open and a stupefied look of perplexity on his face for +a moment, and then, rising hastily, said, "Well, Sol, I guess I'll go +an' yoke up the steers." + +At eight o'clock all the morning toils were over, the wide kitchen cool +and still, and the one-horse wagon standing at the door, into which +climbed Mary, her mother, and the Doctor; for, though invested with no +spiritual authority, and charged with no ritual or form for hours of +affliction, the religion of New England always expects her minister as a +first visitor in every house of mourning. + +The ride was a sorrowful and silent one. The Doctor, propped upon his +cane, seemed to reflect deeply. + +"Have you been at all conversant with the exercises of our young +friend's mind on the subject of religion?" he asked. + +Mrs. Scudder did not at first reply. The remembrance of James's last +letter flashed over her mind, and she felt the vibration of the frail +child beside her, in whom every nerve was quivering. After a moment, she +said,--"It does not become us to judge the spiritual state of any one. +James's mind was in an unsettled way when he left; but who can say what +wonders may have been effected by divine grace since then?" + +This conversation fell on the soul of Mary like the sound of clods +falling on a coffin to the ear of one buried alive;--she heard it with a +dull, smothering sense of suffocation. _That_ question to be +raised?--and about one, too, for whom she could have given her own soul? +At this moment she felt how idle is the mere hope or promise of personal +salvation made to one who has passed beyond the life of self, and struck +deep the roots of his existence in others. She did not utter a +word;--how could she? A doubt,--the faintest shadow of a doubt,--in such +a case, falls on the soul with the weight of mountain certainty; and in +that short ride she felt what an infinite pain may be locked in one +small, silent breast. + +The wagon drew up to the house of mourning. Cato stood at the gate, and +came forward, officiously, to help them out. "Mass'r and Missis will be +glad to see you," he said. "It's a drefful stroke has come upon 'em." + +Candace appeared at the door. There was a majesty of sorrow in her +bearing, as she received them. She said not a word, but pointed with her +finger towards the inner room; but as Mary lifted up her faded, weary +face to hers, her whole soul seemed to heave towards her like a billow, +and she took her up in her arms and broke forth into sobbing, and, +carrying her in, as if she had been a child, set her down in the inner +room and sat down beside her. + +Mrs. Marvyn and her husband sat together, holding each other's hands, +the open Bible between them. For a few moments nothing was to be heard +but sobs and unrestrained weeping, and then all kneeled down to pray. + +After they rose up, Mr. Zebedee Marvyn stood for a moment thoughtfully, +and then said,--"If it had pleased the Lord to give me a sure evidence +of my son's salvation, I could have given him up with all my heart; but +now, whatever there may be, I have seen none." He stood in an attitude +of hopeless, heart-smitten dejection, which contrasted painfully with +his usual upright carriage and the firm lines of his face. + +Mrs. Marvyn started as if a sword had pierced her, passed her arm round +Mary's waist, with a strong, nervous clasp, unlike her usual calm self, +and said,--"Stay with me, daughter, to-day!--stay with me!" + +"Mary can stay as long as you wish, cousin," said Mrs. Scudder; "we have +nothing to call her home." + +"_Come_ with me!" said Mrs. Marvyn to Mary, opening an adjoining door +into her bedroom, and drawing her in with a sort of suppressed +vehemence,--"I want you!--I must have you!" + +"Mrs. Marvyn's state alarms me," said her husband, looking +apprehensively after her when the door was closed; "she has not shed any +tears, nor slept any, since she heard this news. You know that her mind +has been in a peculiar and unhappy state with regard to religious things +for many years. I was in hopes she might feel free to open her exercises +of mind to the Doctor." + +"Perhaps she will feel more freedom with Mary," said the Doctor. "There +is no healing for such troubles except in unconditional submission to +Infinite Wisdom and Goodness. The Lord reigneth, and will at last bring +infinite good out of evil, whether _our_ small portion of existence be +included or not." + +After a few moments more of conference, Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor +departed, leaving Mary alone in the house of mourning. + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +We have said before, what we now repeat, that it is impossible to write +a story of New England life and manners for superficial thought or +shallow feeling. They who would fully understand the springs which moved +the characters with whom we now associate must go down with us to the +very depths. + +Never was there a community where the roots of common life shot down so +deeply, and were so intensely grappled around things sublime and +eternal. The founders of it were a body of confessors and martyrs, who +turned their backs on the whole glory of the visible, to found in the +wilderness a republic of which the God of Heaven and Earth should be the +sovereign power. For the first hundred years grew this community, shut +out by a fathomless ocean from the existing world, and divided by an +antagonism not less deep from all the reigning ideas of nominal +Christendom. + +In a community thus unworldly must have arisen a mode of thought, +energetic, original, and sublime. The leaders of thought and feeling +were the ministry, and we boldly assert that the spectacle of the early +ministry of New England was one to which the world gives no parallel. +Living an intense, earnest, practical life, mostly tilling the earth +with their own hands, they yet carried on the most startling and +original religious investigations with a simplicity that might have been +deemed audacious, were it not so reverential. All old issues relating to +government, religion, ritual, and forms of church organization having +for them passed away, they went straight to the heart of things, and +boldly confronted the problem of universal being. They had come out from +the world as witnesses to the most solemn and sacred of human rights. +They had accustomed themselves boldly to challenge and dispute all sham +pretensions and idolatries of past ages,--to question the right of kings +in the State, and of prelates in the Church; and now they turned the +same bold inquiries towards the Eternal Throne, and threw down their +glove in the lists as authorized defenders of every mystery in the +Eternal Government. The task they proposed to themselves was that of +reconciling the most tremendous facts of sin and evil, present and +eternal, with those conceptions of Infinite Power and Benevolence which +their own strong and generous natures enabled them so vividly to +realize. In the intervals of planting and harvesting, they were busy +with the toils of adjusting the laws of a universe. Solemnly simple, +they made long journeys in their old one-horse chaises, to settle with +each other some nice point of celestial jurisprudence, and to compare +their maps of the Infinite. Their letters to each other form a +literature altogether unique. Hopkins sends to Edwards the younger his +scheme of the universe, in which he starts with the proposition, that +God is infinitely above all obligations of any kind to his creatures. +Edwards replies with the brusque comment,--"This is wrong; God has no +more right to injure a creature than a creature has to injure God"; and +each probably about that time preached a sermon on his own views, which +was discussed by every farmer, in intervals of plough and hoe, by every +woman and girl, at loom, spinning-wheel, or wash-tub. New England was +one vast sea, surging from depths to heights with thought and discussion +on the most insoluble of mysteries. And it is to be added, that no man +or woman accepted any theory or speculation simply _as_ theory or +speculation; all was profoundly real and vital,--a foundation on which +actual life was based with intensest earnestness. + +The views of human existence which resulted from this course of training +were gloomy enough to oppress any heart which did not rise above them by +triumphant faith or sink below them by brutish insensibility; for they +included every moral problem of natural or revealed religion, divested +of all those softening poetries and tender draperies which forms, +ceremonies, and rituals had thrown around them in other parts and ages +of Christendom. The human race, without exception, coming into existence +"under God's wrath and curse," with a nature so fatally disordered, +that, although perfect free agents, men were infallibly certain to do +nothing to Divine acceptance until regenerated by the supernatural aid +of God's Spirit,--this aid being given only to a certain decreed number +of the human race, the rest, with enough free agency to make them +responsible, but without this indispensable assistance exposed to the +malignant assaults of evil spirits versed in every art of temptation, +were sure to fall hopelessly into perdition. The standard of what +constituted a true regeneration, as presented in such treatises as +Edwards on the Affections, and others of the times, made this change to +be something so high, disinterested, and superhuman, so removed from all +natural and common habits and feelings, that the most earnest and +devoted, whose whole life had been a constant travail of endeavor, a +tissue of almost unearthly disinterestedness, often lived and died with +only a glimmering hope of its attainment. + +According to any views then entertained of the evidences of a true +regeneration, the number of the whole human race who could be supposed +as yet to have received this grace was so small, that, as to any +numerical valuation, it must have been expressed as an infinitesimal. +Dr. Hopkins in many places distinctly recognizes the fact, that the +greater part of the human race, up to his time, had been eternally +lost,--and boldly assumes the ground, that this amount of sin and +suffering, being the best and most necessary means of the greatest final +amount of happiness, was not merely permitted, but distinctly chosen, +decreed, and provided for, as essential in the schemes of Infinite +Benevolence. He held that this decree not only _permitted_ each +individual act of sin, but also took measures to make it certain, +though, by an exercise of infinite skill, it accomplished this result +without violating human free agency. + +The preaching of those times was animated by an unflinching consistency +which never shrank from carrying an idea to its remotest logical verge. +The sufferings of the lost were not kept from view, but proclaimed with +a terrible power. Dr. Hopkins boldly asserts, that "all the use which +God will have for them is to suffer; this is all the end they can +answer; therefore all their faculties, and their whole capacities, will +be employed and used for this end.... The body can by omnipotence be +made capable of suffering the greatest imaginable pain, without +producing dissolution, or abating the least degree of life or +sensibility.... One way in which God will show his power in the +punishment of the wicked will be in strengthening and upholding their +bodies and souls in torments which otherwise would be intolerable." + +The sermons preached by President Edwards on this subject are so +terrific in their refined poetry of torture, that very few persons of +quick sensibility could read them through without agony; and it is +related, that, when, in those calm and tender tones which never rose to +passionate enunciation, he read these discourses, the house was often +filled with shrieks and waitings, and that a brother minister once laid +hold of his skirts, exclaiming, in an involuntary agony, "Oh! Mr. +Edwards! Mr. Edwards! is God not a God of mercy?" + +Not that these men were indifferent or insensible to the dread words +they spoke; their whole lives and deportment bore thrilling witness to +their sincerity. Edwards set apart special days of fasting, in view of +the dreadful doom of the lost, in which he was wont to walk the floor, +weeping and wringing his hands. Hopkins fasted every Saturday. David +Brainerd gave up every refinement of civilized life to weep and pray at +the feet of hardened savages, if by any means he might save _one_. All, +by lives of eminent purity and earnestness, gave awful weight and +sanction to their words. + +If we add to this statement the fact, that it was always proposed to +every inquiring soul, as an evidence of regeneration, that it should +truly and heartily accept all the ways of God thus declared right and +lovely, and from the heart submit to Him as the only just and good, it +will be seen what materials of tremendous internal conflict and +agitation were all the while working in every bosom. Almost all the +histories of religious experience of those times relate paroxysms of +opposition to God and fierce rebellion, expressed in language which +appalls the very soul,--followed, at length, by mysterious elevations of +faith and reactions of confiding love, the result of Divine +interposition, which carried the soul far above the region of the +intellect, into that of direct spiritual intuition. + +President Edwards records that he was once in this state of +enmity,--that the facts of the Divine administration seemed horrible to +him,--and that this opposition was overcome by no course of reasoning, +but by an "_inward and sweet sense_," which came to him once when +walking alone in the fields, and, looking up into the blue sky, he saw +the blending of the Divine majesty with a calm, sweet, and almost +infinite meekness. + +The piety which grew up under such a system was, of necessity, +energetic,--it was the uprousing of the whole energy of the human soul, +pierced and wrenched and probed from her lowest depths to her topmost +heights with every awful life-force possible to existence. He whose +faith in God came clear through these terrible tests would be sure never +to know greater ones. He might certainly challenge earth or heaven, +things present or things to come, to swerve him from this grand +allegiance. + +But it is to be conceded, that these systems, so admirable in relation +to the energy, earnestness, and acuteness of their authors, when +received as absolute truth, and as a basis of actual life, had, on minds +of a certain class, the effect of a slow poison, producing life-habits +of morbid action very different from any which ever followed the simple +reading of the Bible. They differ from the New Testament as the living +embrace of a friend does from his lifeless body, mapped out under the +knife of the anatomical demonstrator;--every nerve and muscle is there, +but to a sensitive spirit there is the very chill of death in the +analysis. + +All systems that deal with the infinite are, besides, exposed to danger +from small, unsuspected admixtures of human error, which become deadly +when carried to such vast results. The smallest speck of earth's dust, +in the focus of an infinite lens, appears magnified among the heavenly +orbs as a frightful monster. + +Thus it happened, that, while strong spirits walked, palm-crowned, with +victorious hymns, along these sublime paths, feebler and more sensitive +ones lay along the track, bleeding away in life-long despair. Fearful to +them were the shadows that lay over the cradle and the grave. The mother +clasped her babe to her bosom, and looked with shuddering to the awful +coming trial of free agency, with its terrible responsibilities and +risks, and, as she thought of the infinite chances against her beloved, +almost wished it might die in infancy. But when the stroke of death +came, and some young, thoughtless head was laid suddenly low, who can +say what silent anguish of loving hearts sounded the dread depths of +eternity with the awful question, _Where_? + +In no other time or place of Christendom have so fearful issues been +presented to the mind. Some church interposed its protecting shield; the +Christian born and baptized child was supposed in some wise rescued from +the curse of the fall, and related to the great redemption,--to be a +member of Christ's family, and, if ever so sinful, still infolded in +some vague sphere of hope and protection. Augustine solaced the dread +anxieties of trembling love by prayers offered for the dead, in times +when the Church above and on earth presented itself to the eye of the +mourner as a great assembly with one accord lifting interceding hands +for the parted soul. + +But the clear logic and intense individualism of New England deepened +the problems of the Augustinian faith, while they swept away all those +softening provisions so earnestly clasped to the throbbing heart of that +great poet of theology. No rite, no form, no paternal relation, no faith +or prayer of church, earthly or heavenly, interposed the slightest +shield between the trembling spirit and Eternal Justice. The individual +entered eternity alone, as if he had no interceding relation in the +universe. + +This, then, was the awful dread which was constantly underlying life. +This it was which caused the tolling bell in green hollows and lonely +dells to be a sound which shook the soul and searched the heart with +fearful questions. And this it was that was lying with mountain weight +on the soul of the mother, too keenly agonized to feel that doubt in +such a case was any less a torture than the most dreadful certainty. + +Hers was a nature more reasoning than creative and poetic; and whatever +she believed bound her mind in strictest chains to its logical results. +She delighted in the regions of mathematical knowledge, and walked them +as a native home; but the commerce with abstract certainties fitted her +mind still more to be stiffened and enchained by glacial reasonings, in +regions where spiritual intuitions are as necessary as wings to birds. + +Mary was by nature of the class who never reason abstractly, whose +intellections all begin in the heart, which sends them colored with its +warm life-tint to the brain. Her perceptions of the same subjects were +as different from Mrs. Marvyn's as his who revels only in color from his +who is busy with the dry details of mere outline. The one mind was +arranged like a map, and the other like a picture. In all the system +which had been explained to her, her mind selected points on which it +seized with intense sympathy, which it dwelt upon and expanded till all +else fell away. The sublimity of disinterested benevolence,--the harmony +and order of a system tending in its final results to infinite +happiness,--the goodness of God,--the love of a self-sacrificing +Redeemer,--were all so many glorious pictures, which she revolved in her +mind with small care for their logical relations. + +Mrs. Marvyn had never, in all the course of their intimacy, opened her +mouth to Mary on the subject of religion. It was not an uncommon +incident of those times for persons of great elevation and purity of +character to be familiarly known and spoken of as living under a cloud +of religious gloom; and it was simply regarded as one more mysterious +instance of the workings of that infinite decree which denied to them +the special illumination of the Spirit. + +When Mrs. Marvyn had drawn Mary with her into her room, she seemed like +a person almost in frenzy. She shut and bolted the door, drew her to the +foot of the bed, and, throwing her arms round her, rested her hot and +throbbing forehead on her shoulder. She pressed her thin hand over her +eyes, and then, suddenly drawing back, looked her in the face as one +resolved to speak something long suppressed. Her soft brown eyes had a +flash of despairing wildness in them, like that of a hunted animal +turning in its death-struggle on its pursuer. + +"Mary," she said, "I can't help it,--don't mind what I say, but I must +speak or die! Mary, I cannot, will not, be resigned!--it is all hard, +unjust, cruel!--to all eternity I will say so! To me there is no +goodness, no justice, no mercy in anything! Life seems to me the most +tremendous doom that can be inflicted on a helpless being! _What had we +done_, that it should be sent upon us? Why were we made to love so, to +hope so,--our hearts so full of feeling, and all the laws of Nature +marching over us,--never stopping for our agony? Why, we can suffer so +in this life that we had better never have been born! + +"But, Mary, think what a moment life is! think of those awful ages of +eternity! and then think of all God's power and knowledge used on the +lost to make them suffer! think that all but the merest fragment of +mankind have gone into this,--are in it now! The number of the elect is +so small we can scarce count them for anything! Think what noble minds, +what warm, generous hearts, what splendid natures are wrecked and thrown +away by thousands and tens of thousands! How we love each other! how our +hearts weave into each other! how more than glad we should be to die for +each other! And all this ends--O God, how must it end?--Mary! it isn't +_my_ sorrow only! What right have I to mourn? Is _my_ son any better +than any other mother's son? Thousands of thousands, whose mothers loved +them as I love mine, are gone there!--Oh, my wedding-day! Why did they +rejoice? Brides should wear mourning,--the bells should toll for every +wedding; every new family is built over this awful pit of despair, and +only one in a thousand escapes!" + +Pale, aghast, horror-stricken, Mary stood dumb, as one who in the dark +and storm sees by the sudden glare of lightning a chasm yawning under +foot. It was amazement and dimness of anguish;--the dreadful words +struck on the very centre where her soul rested. She felt as if the +point of a wedge were being driven between her life and her life's +life,--between her and her God. She clasped her hands instinctively on +her bosom, as if to hold there some cherished image, and said in a +piercing voice of supplication, "_My_ God! _my_ God! oh, where art +Thou?" + +Mrs. Marvyn walked up and down the room with a vivid spot of red in each +cheek and a baleful fire in her eyes, talking in rapid soliloquy, +scarcely regarding her listener, absorbed in her own enkindled thoughts. + +"Dr. Hopkins says that this is all best,--better than it would have been +in any other possible way,--that God _chose_ it because it was for a +greater final good,--that He not only chose it, but took means to make +it certain,--that He ordains every sin, and does all that is necessary +to make it certain,--that He creates the vessels of wrath and fits them +for destruction, and that He has an infinite knowledge by which He can +do it without violating their free agency.--So much the worse! What a +use of infinite knowledge What if men should do so? What if a father +should take means to make it certain that his poor little child should +be an abandoned wretch, without violating his free agency? So much the +worse, I say!--They say He does this so that He may show to all +eternity, by their example, the evil nature of sin and its consequences! +This is all that the greater part of the human race have been used for +yet; and it is all right, because an overplus of infinite happiness is +yet to be wrought out by it!--It is _not_ right! No possible amount of +good to ever so many can make it right to deprave ever so +few;--happiness and misery cannot be measured so! I never can think it +right,--never!--Yet they say our salvation depends on our loving +God,--loving Him better than ourselves,--loving Him better than our +dearest friends.--It is impossible!--it is contrary to the laws of my +nature! I can never love God! I can never praise Him!--I am lost! lost! +lost! And what is worse, I cannot redeem my friends! Oh, I _could_ +suffer forever,--how willingly!--if I could save _him_!--But oh, +eternity, eternity! Frightful, unspeakable woe! No end!--no bottom!--no +shore!--no hope!--O God! O God!" + +Mrs. Marvyn's eyes grew wilder,--she walked the door, wringing her +hands,--and her words, mingled with shrieks and moans, became whirling +and confused, as when in autumn a storm drives the leaves in dizzy +mazes. + +Mary was alarmed,--the ecstasy of despair was just verging on insanity. +She rushed out and called Mr. Marvyn. + +"Oh! come in! do! quick!--I'm afraid her mind is going!" she said. + +"It is what I feared," he said, rising from where he sat reading his +great Bible, with an air of heartbroken dejection. "Since she heard this +news, she has not slept nor shed a tear. The Lord hath covered us with a +cloud in the day of his fierce anger." + +He came into the room, and tried to take his wife into his arms. She +pushed him violently back, her eyes glistening with a fierce light. +"Leave me alone!" she said,--"I am a lost spirit!" + +These words were uttered in a shriek that went through Mary's heart like +an arrow. + +At this moment, Candace, who had been anxiously listening at the door +for an hour past, suddenly burst into the room. + +"Lor' bress ye, Squire Marvyn, we won't hab her goin' on dis yer way," +she said. "Do talk _gospel_ to her, can't ye?--ef you can't, I will." + +"Come, ye poor little lamb," she said, walking straight up to Mrs. +Marvyn, "come to ole Candace!"--and with that she gathered the pale form +to her bosom, and sat down and began rocking her, as if she had been a +babe. "Honey, darlin', ye a'n't right,--dar's a drefful mistake +somewhar," she said. "Why, de Lord a'n't like what ye tink,--He _loves_ +ye, honey! Why, jes' feel how _I_ loves ye,--poor ole black +Candace,--an' I a'n't better'n Him as made me! Who was it wore de crown +o' thorns, lamb?--who was it sweat great drops o' blood?--who was it +said, 'Father, forgive dem'? Say, honey!--wasn't it de Lord dat made +ye?--Dar, dar, now ye'r' cryin'!--cry away, and ease yer poor little +heart! He died for Mass'r Jim,--loved him and _died_ for him,--jes' give +up his sweet, precious body and soul for him on de cross! Laws, jes' +_leave_ him in Jesus' hands! Why, honey, dar's de very print o' de nails +in his hands now!" + +The flood-gates were rent; and healing sobs and tears shook the frail +form, as a faded lily shakes under the soft rains of summer. All in the +room wept together. + +"Now, honey," said Candace, after a pause of some minutes, "I knows our +Doctor's a mighty good man, an' larned,--an' in fair weather I ha'n't +no 'bjection to yer hearin' all about dese yer great an' mighty tings +he's got to say. But, honey, dey won't do for you now; sick folks +mus'n't hab strong meat; an' times like dese, dar jest a'n't but one +ting to come to, an' dat ar's _Jesus_. Jes' come right down to whar poor +ole black Candace has to stay allers,--it's a good place, darlin'! _Look +right at Jesus_. Tell ye, honey, ye can't live no other way now. Don't +ye 'member how He looked on His mother, when she stood faintin' an' +tremblin' under de cross, jes' like you? He knows all about mothers' +hearts; He won't break yours. It was jes' 'cause He know'd we'd come +into straits like dis yer, dat he went through all dese tings,--Him, de +Lord o' Glory! Is dis Him you was a-talkin' about?--Him you can't love? +Look at Him, an' see ef you can't. Look an' see what He is!--don't ask +no questions, and don't go to no reasonin's,--jes' look at _Him_, +hangin' dar, so sweet and patient, on de cross! All dey could do +couldn't stop his lovin' 'em; he prayed for 'em wid all de breath he +had. Dar's a God you can love, a'n't dar? Candace loves Him,--poor, ole, +foolish, black, wicked Candace,--and she knows He loves her,"--and here +Candace broke down into torrents of weeping. + +They laid the mother, faint and weary, on her bed, and beneath the +shadow of that suffering cross came down a healing sleep on those weary +eyelids. + +"Honey," said Candace, mysteriously, after she had drawn Mary out of the +room, "don't ye go for to troublin' yer mind wid dis yer. I'm clar +Mass'r James is one o' de 'lect; and I'm clar dar's consid'able more o' +de 'lect dan people tink. Why, Jesus didn't die for nothin',--all dat +love a'n't gwine to be wasted. De 'lect is more'n you or I knows, honey! +Dar's de _Spirit_,--He'll give it to 'em; and ef Mass'r James _is_ +called an' took, depend upon it de Lord has got him ready,--course He +has,--so don't ye go to layin' on yer poor heart what no mortal creetur +can live under; 'cause, as we's got to live in dis yer world, it's quite +clar de Lord must ha' fixed it so we _can_; and ef tings was as some +folks suppose, why, we _couldn't_ live, and dar wouldn't be no sense in +anyting dat goes on." + +The sudden shock of these scenes was followed, in Mrs. Marvyn's case, by +a low, lingering fever. Her room was darkened, and she lay on her bed, a +pale, suffering form, with scarcely the ability to raise her hand. The +shimmering twilight of the sick-room fell on white napkins, spread over +stands, where constantly appeared new vials, big and little, as the +physician, made his daily visit, and prescribed now this drug and now +that, for a wound that had struck through the soul. + +Mary remained many days at the white house, because, to the invalid, no +step, no voice, no hand was like hers. We see her there now, as she sits +in the glimmering by the bed-curtains,--her head a little drooped, as +droops a snowdrop over a grave;--one ray of light from a round hole in +the closed shutters falls on her smooth-parted hair, her small hands are +clasped on her knees, her mouth has lines of sad compression, and in her +eyes are infinite questionings. + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +When Mrs. Marvyn began to amend, Mary returned to the home cottage, and +resumed the details of her industrious and quiet life. + +Between her and her two best friends had fallen a curtain of silence. +The subject that filled all her thoughts could not be named between +them. The Doctor often looked at her pale cheeks and drooping form with +a face of honest sorrow, and heaved deep sighs as she passed; but he did +not find any power within himself by which he could approach her. When +he would speak, and she turned her sad, patient eyes so gently on him, +the words went back again to his heart, and there, taking a second +thought, spread upward wing in prayer. + +Mrs. Scudder sometimes came to her room after she was gone to bed, and +found her weeping; and when gently she urged her to sleep, she would +wipe her eyes so patiently and turn her head with such obedient +sweetness, that her mother's heart utterly failed her. For hours Mary +sat in her room with James's last letter spread out before her. How +anxiously had she studied every word and phrase in it, weighing them to +see if the hope of eternal life were in them! How she dwelt on those +last promises! Had he kept them? Ah! to die without one word more! Would +no angel tell her?--would not the loving God, who knew all, just whisper +one word? He must have read the little Bible! What had he thought? What +did he feel in that awful hour when he felt himself drifting on to that +fearful eternity? Perhaps he had been regenerated,--perhaps there had +been a sudden change;--who knows?--she had read of such +things;--_perhaps_--Ah, in that perhaps lies a world of anguish! Love +will not hear of it. Love _dies_ for certainty. Against an uncertainty +who can brace the soul? We put all our forces of faith and prayer +against it, and it goes down just as a buoy sinks in the water, and the +next moment it is up again. The soul fatigues itself with efforts which +come and go in waves; and when with laborious care she has adjusted all +things in the light of hope, back flows the tide, and sweeps all away. +In such struggles life spends itself fast; an inward wound does not +carry one deathward more surely than this worst wound of the soul. God +has made us so mercifully that there is no _certainty_, however +dreadful, to which life-forces do not in time adjust themselves,--but to +uncertainty there is no possible adjustment. Where is he? Oh, question +of questions!--question which we suppress, but which a power of infinite +force still urges on the soul, who feels a part of herself torn away. + +Mary sat at her window in evening hours, and watched the slanting +sunbeams through the green blades of grass, and thought one year ago he +stood there, with his well-knit, manly form, his bright eye, his buoyant +hope, his victorious mastery of life! And where was he now? Was his +heart as sick, longing for her, as hers for him? Was he looking back to +earth and its joys with pangs of unutterable regret? or had a divine +power interpenetrated his soul, and lighted there the flame of a +celestial love which bore him far above earth? If he were among the +lost, in what age of eternity could she ever be blessed? Could Christ be +happy, if those who were one with Him were sinful and accursed? and +could Christ's own loved ones be happy, when those with whom they have +exchanged being, in whom they live and feel, are as wandering stars, for +whom is reserved the mist of darkness forever? She had been taught that +the agonies of the lost would be forever in sight of the saints, without +abating in the least their eternal joys; nay, that they would find in it +increasing motives to praise and adoration. Could it be so? Would the +last act of the great Bridegroom of the Church be to strike from the +heart of his purified Bride those yearnings of self-devoting love which +His whole example had taught her, and in which she reflected, as in a +glass, His own nature? If not, is there not some provision by which +those roots of deathless love which Christ's betrothed ones strike into +other hearts shall have a divine, redeeming power? Question vital as +life-blood to ten thousand hearts,--fathers, mothers, wives, +husbands,--to all who feel the infinite sacredness of love! + +After the first interview with Mrs. Marvyn, the subject which had so +agitated them was not renewed. She had risen at last from her sick-bed, +as thin and shadowy as a faded moon after sunrise. Candace often shook +her head mournfully, as her eyes followed her about her dally tasks. +Once only, with Mary, she alluded to the conversation which had passed +between them;--it was one day when they were together, spinning, in the +north upper room that looked out upon the sea. It was a glorious day. A +ship was coming in under full sail, with white gleaming wings. Mrs. +Marvyn watched it a few moments,--the gay creature, so full of exultant +life,--and then smothered down an inward groan, and Mary thought she +heard her saying, "Thy will be done!" + +"Mary," she said, gently, "I hope you will forget all I said to you that +dreadful day. It had to be said, or I should have died. Mary, I begin to +think that it is not best to stretch our minds with reasonings where we +are so limited, where we can know so little. I am quite sure there must +be dreadful mistakes somewhere. + +"It seems to me irreverent and shocking that a child should oppose a +father, or a creature its Creator. I never should have done it, only +that, where direct questions are presented to the judgment, one cannot +help judging. If one is required to praise a being as just and good, one +must judge of his actions by some standard of right,--and we have no +standard but such as our Creator has placed in us. I have been told it +was my duty to attend to these subjects, and I have tried to,--and the +result has been that the facts presented seem wholly irreconcilable with +any notions of justice or mercy that I am able to form. If these be the +facts, I can only say that my nature is made entirely opposed to them. +If I followed the standard of right they present, and acted according to +my small mortal powers on the same principles, I should be a very bad +person. Any father, who should make such use of power over his children +as they say the Deity does with regard to us, would be looked upon as a +monster by our very imperfect moral sense. Yet I cannot say that the +facts are not so. When I heard the Doctor's sermons on 'Sin a Necessary +Means of the Greatest Good,' I could not extricate myself from the +reasoning. + +"I have thought, in desperate moments, of giving up the Bible itself. +But what do I gain? Do I not see the same difficulty in Nature? I see +everywhere a Being whose main ends seem to be beneficent, but whose good +purposes are worked out at terrible expense of suffering, and apparently +by the total sacrifice of myriads of sensitive creatures. I see +unflinching order, general good-will, but no sympathy, no mercy. Storms, +earthquakes, volcanoes, sickness, death, go on without regarding us. +Everywhere I see the most hopeless, unrelieved suffering,--and for aught +I see, it may be eternal. Immortality is a dreadful chance, and I would +rather never have been.--The Doctor's dreadful system is, I confess, +much like the laws of Nature,--about what one might reason out from +them. + +"There is but just one thing remaining, and that is, as Candace said, +the cross of Christ. If God so loved us,--if He died for us,--greater +love hath no man than this. It seems to me that love is shown here in +the two highest forms possible to our comprehension. We see a Being who +gives himself for us,--and more than that, harder than that, a Being who +consents to the suffering of a dearer than self. Mary, I feel that I +must love more, to give up one of my children to suffer, than to consent +to suffer myself. There is a world of comfort to me in the words, 'He +that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall +he not with him also freely give us all things?' These words speak to my +heart. I can interpret them by my own nature, and I rest on them. If +there is a fathomless mystery of sin and sorrow, there is a deeper +mystery of God's love. So, Mary, I try Candace's way,--I look at +Christ,--I pray to Him. If he that hath seen Him hath seen the Father, +it is enough. I rest there,--I wait. What I know not now I shall know +hereafter." + +Mary kept all things and pondered them in her heart. She could speak to +no one,--not to her mother, nor to her spiritual guide; for had she not +passed to a region beyond theirs? As well might those on the hither side +of mortality instruct the souls gone beyond the veil as souls outside a +great affliction guide those who are struggling in it. That is a mighty +baptism, and only Christ can go down with us into those waters. + +Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor only marked that she was more than ever +conscientious in every duty, and that she brought to life's daily +realities something of the calmness and disengagedness of one whose soul +has been wrenched by a mighty shock from all moorings here below. Hopes +did not excite, fears did not alarm her; life had no force strong enough +to awaken a thrill within; and the only subjects on which she ever spoke +with any degree of ardor were religious subjects. + +One who should have seen moving about the daily ministrations of the +cottage a pale girl, whose steps were firm, whose eye was calm, whose +hands were ever busy, would scarce imagine that through that silent +heart were passing tides of thought that measured a universe; but it was +even so. Through that one gap of sorrow flowed in the whole awful +mystery of existence, and silently, as she spun and sewed, she thought +over and over again all that she had ever been taught, and compared and +revolved it by the light of a dawning inward revelation. + +Sorrow is the great birth-agony of immortal powers,--sorrow is the great +searcher and revealer of hearts, the great test of truth; for Plato has +wisely said, sorrow will not endure sophisms,--all shams and unrealities +melt in the fire of that awful furnace. Sorrow reveals forces in +ourselves we never dreamed of. The soul, a bound and sleeping prisoner, +hears her knock on her cell-door, and wakens. Oh, how narrow the walls! +oh, how close and dark the grated window! how the long useless wings +beat against the impassable barriers! Where are we? What is this prison? +What is beyond? Oh for more air, more light! When will the door be +opened? The soul seems to itself to widen and deepen; it trembles at its +own dreadful forces; it gathers up in waves that break with wailing only +to flow back into the everlasting void. The calmest and most centred +natures are sometimes thrown by the shock of a great sorrow into a +tumultuous amazement. All things are changed. The earth no longer seems +solid, the skies no longer secure; a deep abyss seems underlying every +joyous scene of life. The soul, struck with this awful inspiration, is a +mournful Cassandra; she sees blood on every threshold, and shudders in +the midst of mirth and festival with the weight of a terrible wisdom. + +Who shall dare be glad any more, that has once seen the frail +foundations on which love and joy are built? Our brighter hours, have +they only been weaving a network of agonizing remembrances for this day +of bereavement? The heart is pierced with every past joy, with every +hope of its ignorant prosperity. Behind every scale in music, the gayest +and cheeriest, the grandest, the most triumphant, lies its dark relative +minor; the notes are the same, but the change of a semitone changes all +to gloom;--all our gayest hours are tunes that have a modulation into +these dreary keys ever possible; at any moment the key-note may be +struck. + +The firmest, best-prepared natures are often beside themselves with +astonishment and dismay, when they are called to this dread initiation. +They thought it a very happy world before,--a glorious universe. Now it +is darkened with the shadow of insoluble mysteries. Why this everlasting +tramp of inevitable laws on quivering life? If the wheels must roll, why +must the crushed be so living and sensitive? + +And yet sorrow is godlike, sorrow is grand and great, sorrow is wise and +farseeing. Our own instinctive valuations, the intense sympathy which we +give to the tragedy which God has inwoven into the laws of Nature, show +us that it is with no slavish dread, no cowardly shrinking, that we +should approach her divine mysteries. What are the natures that cannot +suffer? Who values them? From the fat oyster, over which the silver +tide rises and falls without one pulse upon its fleshy ear, to the hero +who stands with quivering nerve parting with wife and child and home for +country and God, all the way up is an ascending scale, marked by +increasing power to suffer; and when we look to the Head of all being, +up through principalities and powers and princedoms, with dazzling +orders and celestial blazonry, to behold by what emblem the Infinite +Sovereign chooses to reveal himself, we behold, in the midst of the +throne, "a lamb as it had been slain." + +Sorrow is divine. Sorrow is reigning on the throne of the universe, and +the crown of all crowns has been one of thorns. There have been many +books that treat of the mystery of sorrow, but only one that bids us +glory in tribulation, and count it all joy when we fall into divers +afflictions, that so we may be associated with that great fellowship of +suffering of which the Incarnate God is the head, and through which He +is carrying a redemptive conflict to a glorious victory over evil. If we +suffer with Him, we shall also reign with Him. + +Even in the very making up of our physical nature, God puts suggestions +of such a result. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the +morning." There are victorious powers in our nature which are all the +while working for us in our deepest pain. It is said, that, after the +sufferings of the rack, there ensues a period in which the simple repose +from torture produces a beatific trance; it is the reaction of Nature, +asserting the benignant intentions of her Creator. So, after great +mental conflicts and agonies must come a reaction, and the Divine +Spirit, co-working with our spirit, seizes the favorable moment, and, +interpenetrating natural laws with a celestial vitality, carries up the +soul to joys beyond the ordinary possibilities of mortality. + +It is said that gardeners, sometimes, when they would bring a rose to +richer flowering, deprive it, for a season, of light and moisture. +Silent and dark it stands, dropping one fading leaf after another, and +seeming to go down patiently to death. But when every leaf is dropped, +and the plant stands stripped to the uttermost, a new life is even then +working in the buds, from which shall spring a tender foliage and a +brighter wealth of flowers. So, often in celestial gardening, every leaf +of earthly joy must drop, before a new and divine bloom visits the soul. + +Gradually, as months passed away, the floods grew still; the mighty +rushes of the inner tides ceased to dash. There came first a delicious +calmness, and then a celestial inner clearness, in which the soul seemed +to lie quiet as an untroubled ocean, reflecting heaven. Then came the +fulness of mysterious communion given to the pure in heart,--that advent +of the Comforter in the soul, teaching all things and bringing all +things to remembrance; and Mary moved in a world transfigured by a +celestial radiance. Her face, so long mournfully calm, like some +chiselled statue of Patience, now wore a radiance, as when one places a +light behind some alabaster screen sculptured with mysterious and holy +emblems, and words of strange sweetness broke from her, as if one should +hear snatches of music from a door suddenly opened in heaven. Something +wise and strong and sacred gave an involuntary impression of awe in her +looks and words;--it was not the childlike loveliness of early days, +looking with dovelike, ignorant eyes on sin and sorrow; but the +victorious sweetness of that great multitude who have come out of great +tribulation, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood +of the Lamb. In her eyes there was that nameless depth that one sees +with awe in the Sistine Madonna,--eyes that have measured infinite +sorrow and looked through it to an infinite peace. + +"My dear Madam," said the Doctor to Mrs. Scudder, "I cannot but think +that there must be some uncommonly gracious exercises passing in the +mind of your daughter; for I observe, that, though she is not inclined +to conversation, she seems to be much in prayer; and I have, of late, +felt the sense of a Divine Presence with her in a most unusual degree. +Has she opened her mind to you?" + +"Mary was always a silent girl," said Mrs. Scudder, "and not given to +speaking of her own feelings; indeed, until she gave you an account of +her spiritual state, on joining the church, I never knew what her +exercises were. Hers is a most singular case. I never knew the time when +she did not seem to love God more than anything else. It has disturbed +me sometimes,--because I did not know but it might be mere natural +sensibility, instead of gracious affection." + +"Do not disturb yourself, Madam," said the Doctor. "The Spirit worketh +when, where, and how He will; and, undoubtedly, there have been cases +where His operations commence exceedingly early. Mr. Edwards relates a +case of a young person who experienced a marked conversion when three +years of age; and Jeremiah was called from the womb. (Jeremiah, i. 5.) +In all cases we must test the quality of the evidence without relation +to the time of its commencement. I do not generally lay much stress on +our impressions, which are often uncertain and delusive; yet I have had +an impression that the Lord would be pleased to make some singular +manifestations of His grace through this young person. In the economy of +grace there is neither male nor female; and Peter says (Acts, ii. 17) +that the Spirit of the Lord shall be poured out and your sons and your +daughters shall prophesy. Yet if we consider that the Son of God, as to +his human nature, was made of a woman, it leads us to see that in +matters of grace God sets a special value on woman's nature and designs +to put special honor upon it. Accordingly, there have been in the +Church, in all ages, holy women who have received the Spirit and been +called to a ministration in the things of God,--such as Deborah, Huldah, +and Anna, the prophetess. In our own days, most uncommon manifestations +of divine grace have been given to holy women. It was my privilege to be +in the family of President Edwards at a time when Northampton was +specially visited, and his wife seemed and spoke more like a glorified +spirit than a mortal woman,--and multitudes flocked to the house to hear +her wonderful words. She seemed to have such a sense of the Divine love +as was almost beyond the powers of nature to endure. Just to speak the +words, 'Our Father who art in heaven,' would overcome her with such a +manifestation that she would become cold and almost faint; and though +she uttered much, yet she told us that the divinest things she saw could +not be spoken. These things could not be fanaticism, for she was a +person of a singular evenness of nature, and of great skill and +discretion in temporal matters, and of an exceeding humility, sweetness, +and quietness of disposition." + +"I have observed of late," said Mrs. Scudder, "that, in our praying +circles, Mary seemed much carried out of herself, and often as if she +would speak, and with difficulty holding herself back. I have not urged +her, because I thought it best to wait till she should feel full +liberty." + +"Therein you do rightly, Madam," said the Doctor; "but I am persuaded +you will hear from her yet." + +It came at length, the hour of utterance. And one day, in a praying +circle of the women of the church, all were startled by the clear silver +tones of one who sat among them and spoke with the unconscious +simplicity of an angel child, calling God her Father, and speaking of an +ineffable union in Christ, binding all things together in one, and +making all complete in Him. She spoke of a love passing +knowledge,--passing all love of lovers or of mothers,--a love forever +spending, yet never spent,--a love ever pierced and bleeding, yet ever +constant and triumphant, rejoicing with infinite joy to bear in its own +body the sins and sorrows of a universe,--conquering, victorious love, +rejoicing to endure, panting to give, and offering its whole self with +an infinite joyfulness for our salvation. And when, kneeling, she +poured out her soul in prayer, her words seemed so many winged angels, +musical with unearthly harpings of an untold blessedness. They who heard +her had the sensation of rising in the air, of feeling a celestial light +and warmth, descending into their souls; and when, rising, she stood +silent and with downcast drooping eyelids, there were tears in all eyes, +and a hush in all movements as she passed, as if something celestial +were passing out. + +Miss Prissy came rushing homeward, to hold a private congratulatory talk +with the Doctor and Mrs. Scudder, while Mary was tranquilly setting the +tea-table and cutting bread for supper. + +"To see her now, certainly," said Miss Prissy, "moving round so +thoughtful, not forgetting anything, and doing everything so calm, you +wouldn't 'a' thought it could be her that spoke those blessed words and +made that prayer! Well, certainly, that prayer seemed to take us all +right up and put us down in heaven! and when I opened my eyes, and saw +the roses and asparagus-bushes on the manteltree-piece, I had to ask +myself, 'Where have I been?' Oh, Miss Scudder, her afflictions have been +sanctified to her!--and really, when I see her going on so, I feel she +can't be long for us. They say, dying grace is for dying hours; and I'm +sure this seems more like dying grace than anything that I ever yet +saw." + +"She is a precious gift," said the Doctor; "let us thank the Lord for +his grace through her. She has evidently had a manifestation of the +Beloved, and feedeth among the lilies (Canticles, vi. 3); and we will +not question the Lord's further dispensations concerning her." + +"Certainly," said Miss Prissy, briskly, "it's never best to borrow +trouble; 'sufficient unto the day' is enough, to be sure.--And now, Miss +Scudder, I thought I'd just take a look at that dove-colored silk of +yours to-night, to see what would have to be done with it, because I +must make every minute tell; and you know I lose half a day every week +for the prayer-meeting. Though I ought not to say I lose it, either; for +I was telling Miss General Wilcox I wouldn't give up that meeting for +bags and bags of gold. She wanted me to come and sew for her one +Wednesday, and says I, 'Miss Wilcox, I'm poor and have to live by my +work, but I a'n't so poor but what I have some comforts, and I can't +give up my prayer-meeting for any money,--for you see, if one gets a +little lift there, it makes all the work go lighter,--but then I have to +be particular to save up every scrap and end of time." + +Mrs. Scudder and Miss Prissy crossed the kitchen and entered the +bedroom, and soon had the dove-colored silk under consideration. + +"Well, Miss Scudder," said Miss Prissy, after mature investigation, +"here's a broad hem, not cut at all on the edge, as I see, and that +might be turned down, and so cut off the worn spot up by the waist,--and +then, if it is turned, it will look every bit and grain as well as a new +silk;--I'll sit right down now and go to ripping. I put my ripping-knife +into my pocket when I put on this dress to go to prayer-meeting, +because, says I to myself, there'll be something to do at Miss Scudder's +to-night. You just get an iron to the fire, and we'll have it all ripped +and pressed out before dark." + +Miss Prissy seated herself at the open window, as cheery as a fresh +apple-blossom, and began busily plying her knife, looking at the garment +she was ripping with an astute air, as if she were about to circumvent +it into being a new dress by some surprising act of legerdemain. Mrs. +Scudder walked to the looking-glass and began changing her bonnet cap +for a tea-table one. + +Miss Prissy, after a while, commenced in a mysterious tone. + +"Miss Scudder, I know folks like me shouldn't have their eyes open too +wide, but then I can't help noticing some things. Did you see the +Doctor's face when we was talking to him about Mary? Why, he colored all +up and the tears came into his eyes. It's my belief that that blessed +man worships the ground she treads on. I don't mean _worships_, +either,--'cause that would be wicked, and he's too good a man to make a +graven image of anything,--but it's clear to see that there a'n't +anybody in the world like Mary to him. I always did think so; but I used +to think Mary was such a little poppet--that she'd do better for--Well, +you know, I thought about some younger man;--but, laws, now I see how +she rises up to be ahead of everybody, and is so kind of solemn-like. I +can't but see the leadings of Providence. What a minister's wife she'd +be, Miss Scudder!--why, all the ladies coming out of prayer-meeting were +speaking of it. You see, they want the Doctor to get married;--it seems +more comfortable-like to have ministers married; one feels more free to +open their exercises of mind; and as Miss Deacon Twitchel said to +me,--'If the Lord had made a woman o' purpose, as he did for Adam, he +wouldn't have made her a bit different from Mary Scudder.' Why, the +oldest of us would follow her lead,--'cause she goes before us without +knowing it." + +"I feel that the Lord has greatly blessed me in such a child," said Mrs. +Scudder, "and I feel disposed to wait the leadings of Providence." + +"Just exactly," said Miss Prissy, giving a shake to her silk; "and as +Miss Twitchel said, in this case every providence seems to p'int. I felt +dreadfully for her along six months back; but now I see how she's been +brought out, I begin to see that things are for the best, perhaps, after +all. I can't help feeling that Jim Marvyn is gone to heaven, poor +fellow! His father is a deacon,--and such a good man!--and Jim, though +he did make a great laugh wherever he went, and sometimes laughed where +he hadn't ought to, was a noble-hearted fellow. Now, to be sure, as the +Doctor says, 'amiable instincts a'n't true holiness'; but then they are +better than unamiable ones, like Simeon Brown's. I do think, if that man +is a Christian, he is a dreadful ugly one; he snapped me short up about +my change, when he settled with me last Tuesday; and if I hadn't felt +that it was a sinful rising, I should have told him I'd never put foot +in his house again; I'm glad, for my part, he's gone out of our church. +Now Jim Marvyn was like a prince to poor people; and I remember once his +mother told him to settle with me, and he gave me 'most double, and +wouldn't let me make change. 'Confound it all, Miss Prissy,' says he, 'I +wouldn't stitch as you do from morning to night for double that money.' +Now I know we can't do anything to recommend ourselves to the Lord, but +then I can't help feeling some sorts of folks must be by nature more +pleasing to Him than others. David was a man after God's own heart, and +he was a generous, whole-souled fellow, like Jim Marvyn, though he did +get carried away by his spirits sometimes and do wrong things; and so I +hope the Lord saw fit to make Jim one of the elect. We don't ever know +what God's grace has done for folks. I think a great many are converted +when we know nothing about it, as Miss Twitchel told poor old Miss +Tyrel, who was mourning about her son, a dreadful wild boy, who was +killed falling from mast-head; she says, that from the mast-head to the +deck was time enough for divine grace to do the work." + +"I have always had a trembling hope for poor James," said Mrs. +Scudder,--"not on account of any of his good deeds or amiable traits, +because election is without foresight of any good works,--but I felt he +was a child of the covenant, at least by the father's side, and I hope +the Lord has heard his prayer. These are dark providences; the world is +full of them; and all we can do is to have faith that the Lord will +bring infinite good out of finite evil, and make everything better than +if the evil had not happened. That's what our good Doctor is always +repeating; and we must try to rejoice, in view of the happiness of the +universe, without considering whether we or our friends are to be +included in it or not." + +"Well, dear me!" said Miss Prissy, "I hope, if that is necessary, it +will please the Lord to give it to me; for I don't seem to find any +powers in me to get up to it. But all's for the best, at any rate,--and +that's a comfort." + +Just at this moment Mary's clear voice at the door announced that tea +was on the table. + +"Coming, this very minute," said Miss Prissy, bustling up and pulling +off her spectacles. Then, running across the room, she shut the door +mysteriously, and turned to Mrs. Scudder with the air of an impending +secret. Miss Prissy was subject to sudden impulses of confidence, in +which she was so very cautious that not the thickest oak-plank door +seemed secure enough, and her voice dropped to its lowest key. The most +important and critical words were entirely omitted, or supplied by a +knowing wink and a slight stamp of the foot. + +In this mood she now approached Mrs. Scudder, and, holding up her hand +on the door-side to prevent consequences, if, after all she should be +betrayed into a loud word, she said, "I thought I'd just say, Miss +Scudder, that, in case Mary should ---- the Doctor,--in case, you know, +there should be a ---- in the house, you _must_ just contrive it so as +to give me a month's notice, so that I could give you a whole fortnight +to fix her up as such a good man's ---- ought to be. Now I know how +spiritually-minded our blessed Doctor is; but, bless you, Ma'am, he's +got eyes. I tell you, Miss Scudder, these men, the best of 'em, _feel_ +what's what, though they don't _know_ much. I saw the Doctor look at +Mary that night I dressed her for the wedding-party. I tell you he'd +like to have his wife look pretty well, and he'll get up some blessed +text or other about it, just as he did that night about being brought +unto the king in raiment of needle-work. That is an encouraging thought +to us sewing-women. + +"But this thing was spoken of after the meeting. Miss Twitchel and Miss +Jones were talking about it; and they all say that there would be the +best setting-out got for her that was ever seen in Newport, if it should +happen. Why, there's reason in it. She ought to have at least two real +good India silks that will stand alone,--and you'll see she'll have 'em, +too; you let me alone for that; and I was thinking, as I lay awake last +night, of a new way of making up, that you will say is just the sweetest +that ever you did see. And Miss Jones was saying that she hoped there +wouldn't anything happen without her knowing it, because her husband's +sister in Philadelphia has sent her a new receipt for cake, and she has +tried it and it came out beautifully, and she says she'll send some in." + +All the time that this stream was flowing, Mrs. Scudder stood with the +properly reserved air of a discreet matron, who leaves all such matters +to Providence, and is not supposed unduly to anticipate the future; and, +in reply, she warmly pressed Miss Prissy's hand, and remarked, that no +one could tell what a day might bring forth,--and other general +observations on the uncertainty of mortal prospects, which form a +becoming shield when people do not wish to say more exactly what they +are thinking of. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +ONCE AND NOW. + + +The Mourner lies in the solemn room + Where his Dead hath lately lain; +And in the drear, oppressive gloom, +Death-pallid with the dying moon, + There pass before his brain, +In blended visions manifold, +The present and the days of old. + +Fair falls the snow on her grave to-day, + Shrouding her sleep sublime; +But he sees in the sunny far-away +None among maidens so fair and gay + As she in her sweet spring-time: +Where the song and the sport and the revel be, +None among maidens so fair as she. + +He marks where the perfect crescent dips + Above the heaven of her eyes, +Her beamy hair in soft eclipse, +The red enchantment of her lips, + And all the grace that lies +Dreaming in her neck's pure curve, +With its regal lift and its swanlike swerve. + +In pictures which are forever joys, + She cometh to him once more: +Once, with her dainty foot a-poise, +She drives the bird with a merry noise + From her lifted battledoor, +And tosses back, with impatient air, +The ruffled glory of her hair;-- + +Then gayly draping a painted doll, + To please an eager child; +Or pacing athwart a stately hall; +Or kneeling at dewy evenfall, + When clouds are crimson-piled, +And all the hushed and scented air +Is tremulous with the voice of prayer;-- + +Or standing mute and rapture-bound + The while her sisters sing; +From voice and lute there floats around +A golden confluence of sound, + Spreading in fairy ring; +And with a beautiful grace and glow +Her head sways to the music's flow. + +One night of nights in lustrous June, + She walks with him alone; +Through silver glidings of the moon +The runnels purl a dreamy tune; + His arm is round her thrown: +But looks and sounds far lovelier +Thrill on his trancéd soul from her. + +And then that rounded bliss, increased + To one consummate hour! +The marriage-robe, the stoléd priest, +The kisses when the rite hath ceased, + And with her heart's rich dower +She standeth by his shielding side, +His wedded wife and his own bright bride! + +And then the sacred influence + That flushed her flower to prime! +Through Love's divine omnipotence +She ripened to a mother once, + But once, and for all time: +No higher heaven on him smiled +Than that young mother and her child. + +Then all the pleasant household scenes + Through all the latter years! +No murky shadow intervenes,-- +Her gentle aspect only leans + Through the soft mist of tears; +Her sweet, warm smile, her welkin glance,-- +There is no speech nor utterance. + +O angel form, O darling face, + Slow fading from the shore! +O brave, true heart, whose warmest place +Was his alone by Love's sweet grace, + Still, still, forevermore! +And now he lonely lieth, broken-hearted; +For all the grace and glory have departed. + +Snow-cold in sculptured calm she lies, + Apparelled saintly white; +On her sealed lips no sweet replies, +And the blue splendor of her eyes + Gone down in dreamless night; +All empery of Death expressed +In that inexorable rest! + +Now leave this fair and holy Thing + Alone with God's dear grace! +Her grave is but the entering +Beneath the shadow of His wing, + Her trusty hiding-place, +Till, in the grand, sweet Dawn, at last, +This tyranny be overpast. + + + + +A TRIP TO CUBA. + +CAN GRANDE'S DEPARTURE.--THE DOMINICA.--LOTTERY-TICKETS. + + +I have not told you how Can Grande took leave of the Isle of Rogues, as +one of our party christened the fair Queen of the Antilles. I could not +tell you how he loathed the goings on at Havana, how hateful he found +the Spaniards, and how villainous the American hotel-keepers. His +superlatives of censure were in such constant employment that they began +to have a threadbare sound before he left us; and as he has it in +prospective to run the gantlet of all the inn-keepers on the continent +of Europe, to say nothing of farther lands, where inn-keepers would be a +relief, there is no knowing what exhaustion his powers in this sort may +undergo before he reaches us again. He may break down into weak, +compliant good-nature, and never be able to abuse anybody again, as long +as he lives. In that case, his past life and his future, taken together, +will make a very respectable average. But the climate really did not +suit him, the company did not satisfy him, and there came a moment when +he said, "I can bear it no longer!" and we answered, "Go in peace!" + +It now becomes me to speak of Sobrina, who has long been on a temperance +footing, and who forgets even to blush when the former toddy is +mentioned, though she still shudders at the remembrance of sour-sop. She +is the business-man of the party; and while philosophy and highest +considerations occupy the others, with an occasional squabble over +virtue and the rights of man, she changes lodgings, hires carts, +transports baggage, and, knowing half-a-dozen words of Spanish, makes +herself clearly comprehensible to everybody. We have found a Spanish +steamer for Can Grande; but she rows thither in a boat and secures his +passage and state-room. The noontide sun is hot upon the waters, but her +zeal is hotter still. Now she has made a curious bargain with her +boatmen, by which they are to convey the whole party to the steamer on +the fourth day. + +"What did you tell them?" we asked. + +"I said, _tres noches_ (three nights) and _un dia_, (one day,) and then +took out my watch and showed them five o'clock on it, and pointed to the +boat and to myself. They understood, perfectly." + +And so, in truth, they did; for, going to the wharf on the day and at +the hour appointed, we found the boatmen in waiting, with eager faces. +But here a new difficulty presented itself;--the runner of our hotel, a +rascal German, whose Cuban life has sharpened his wits and blunted his +conscience, insisted that the hiring of boats for the lodgers was one of +his (many) perquisites, and that before his sovereign prerogative all +other agreements were null and void.--N.B. There was always something +experimentative about this man's wickedness. He felt that he did not +know how far men might be gulled, or the point where they would be +likely to resist. This was a fault of youth. With increasing years and +experience he will become bolder and more skilful, and bids fair, we +should say, to become one of the most dexterous operators known in his +peculiar line. On the present occasion, he did not heed the piteous +pleadings of the disappointed boatmen, nor Sobrina's explanations, nor +Can Grande's arguments. But when the whole five of us fixed upon him our +mild and scornful eyes, something within him gave way. He felt a little +bit of the moral pressure of Boston, and feebly broke down, saying, "You +better do as you like, then," and so the point was carried. + +A pleasant run brought us to the side of the steamer. It was dusk +already as we ascended her steep gangway, and from that to darkness +there is, at this season, but the interval of a breath. Dusk, too, were +our thoughts, at parting from Can Grande, the mighty, the vehement, the +great fighter. How were we to miss his deep music, here and at home! +With his assistance we had made a very respectable band; now we were to +be only a wandering drum and fife,--the fife particularly shrill, and +the drum particularly solemn. Well, we went below, and examined the +little den where Can Grande was to pass the other seven days of his +tropical voyaging. The berths were arranged the wrong way,--across, not +along, the vessel,--and we foresaw that his head would go up and his +feet down, and _vice versâ_, with every movement of the steamer, and our +weak brains reeled at the bare thought of what he was to suffer. He, +good soul, meanwhile, was thinking of his supper, and wondering if he +could get tea, coffee, and chocolate, a toasted roll, and the touch of +cold ham which an invalid loves. And we beheld, and they were bringing +up the side of the vessel trays of delicious pastry, and festoons of +fowls, with more literal butcher's meat. And we said, "There will be no +famine on board. Make the most of your supper, Can Grande; for it will +be the last of earth to you, for some time to come." And now came +silence, and tears, and last embraces; we slipped down the gangway into +our little craft, and, looking up, saw, bending above us, between the +slouched hat and the silver beard, the eyes that we can never forget, +that seemed to drop back in the darkness with the solemnity of a last +farewell. We went home, and the drum hung himself gloomily on his peg, +and the little fife _shut up_ for the remainder of the evening. + +Has Mr. Dana described the Dominica, I wonder? Well, if he has, I cannot +help it. He never can have eaten so many ices there as I have, nor +passed so many patient hours amid the screeching, chattering, and +devouring, which make it most like a cage of strange birds, or the +monkey department in the Jardin des Plantes.--_Mem._ I always observed +that the monkeys just mentioned seemed far more mirthful than their +brethren in the London Zoölogical Gardens. They form themselves, so to +speak, on a livelier model, and feel themselves more at home with their +hosts. + +But the Dominica. You know, probably, that it is the great _café_ of +Havana. All the day long it is full of people of all nations, sipping +ices, chocolate, and so on; and all night long, also, up to the to me +very questionable hour when its patrons go home and its _garçons_ go to +bed. We often found it a welcome refuge at noon, when the _douche_ of +sunlight on one's _cervix_ bewilders the faculties, and confuses one's +principles of gravitation, toleration, etc., etc. You enter from the +Tophet of the street, and the intolerable glare is at once softened to a +sort of golden shadow. The floor is of stone; in the midst trickles a +tiny fountain with golden network; all other available space is crowded +with marble tables, square or round; and they, in turn, are scarcely +visible for the swarm of black-coats that gather round them. The smoke +of innumerable cigars gives a Rembrandtic tinge to the depths of the +picture, and the rows and groups of nodding Panama hats are like very +dull flower-beds. In the company, of course, the Spanish-Cuban element +largely predominates; yet here and there the sharper English breaks upon +the ear. + +"Yes, I went to that plantation; but they have only one thousand boxes +of sugar, and we want three thousand for our operation." + +A Yankee, you say. Yes, certainly; and turning, you see the tall, strong +Philadelphian from our hotel, who calls for everything by its right +name, and always says, "_Mas! mas!_" when the waiter helps him to ice. +Some one near us is speaking a fuller English, with a richer "_r_" and +deeper intonation. See there! that is our own jolly captain, Brownless +of ours, the King of the "Karnak"; and going up to the British lion, we +shake the noble beast heartily by the paw. + +The people about us are imbibing a variety of cooling liquids. Our turn +comes at last. The _garçon_ who says, "I speke Aingliss," brings us +each a delicious orange _granizada_, a sort of half-frozen water-ice, +familiar to Italy, but unknown in America. It is ice in the first +enthusiasm of freezing,--condensed, not hardened. Promoting its +liquefaction with the spoon, you enjoy it through the mediation of a +straw. The unskilful make strange noises and gurglings through this +_tenuis avena_; but to those who have not forgotten the accomplishment +of suction, as acquired at an early period of existence, the _modus in +quo_ is easy and agreeable. + +You will hardly weary of watching the groups that come and go and sit +and talk in this dreamy place. If you are a lady, every black eye +directs its full, tiresome stare at your face, no matter how plain that +face may be. But you have learned before this to consider those eyes as +so many black dots, so many marks of wonder with no sentence attached; +and so you coolly pursue your philosophizing in your corner, strong in +the support of a companion, who, though deeply humanitarian and +peaceful, would not hesitate to punch any number of Spanish heads that +should be necessary for the maintenance of your comfort and his dignity. + +The scene is occasionally varied by the appearance of a beggar-woman, +got up in great decency, and with a wonderful air of pinched and faded +gentility. She wears an old shawl upon her head, but it is as nicely +folded as an aristocratic mantilla; her feet are cased in the linen +slippers worn by the poorer classes, but there are no unsavory rags and +dirt about her. "That good walk of yours, friend," I thought, "does not +look like starvation." Yet, if over there were a moment when one's heart +should soften towards an imposing fellow-creature, it is when one is in +the midst of the orange _granizada_. The beggar circles slowly and +mournfully round all the marble tables in turn, holding out her hand to +each, as the plate is offered at a church collection. She is not +importunate; but, looking in each one's face, seems to divine whether he +will give or no. A Yankee, sitting with a Spaniard, offers her his +cigar. The Spaniard gravely pushes the cigar away, and gives her a +_medio_. + +More pertinacious is the seller of lottery-tickets, male or female, who +has more at stake, and must run the risk of your displeasure for the +chance of your custom. Even in your bed you are hardly safe from the +ticket-vender. You stand at your window, and he, waiting in the street, +perceives you, and with nods, winks, and showing of his wares endeavors +to establish a communication with you. Or you stop and wait somewhere in +your _volante_, and in the twinkling of an eye the wretch is at your +side to bear you company till you drive off again. At the Dominica he is +especially persevering, and stands and waits with as much zeal as if he +knew the saintly line of Milton. Like the beggar, however, he is +discriminative in the choice of his victims, and persecutes the stony +Yankee less than the oily Spaniard, whose inbred superstitions force him +to believe in luck. + +Very strange stories do they tell about the trade in +lottery-tickets,--strange, at least, to us, who consider them the folly +of follies. Here, as in Italy, the lotteries are under the care of the +State, and their administration is as careful and important as that of +any other branch of finance. They are a regular and even reputable mode +of investment. The wealthy commercial houses all own tickets, sometimes +keeping the same number for years, but more frequently changing after +each unsuccessful experiment. A French gentleman in Havana assured me +that his tickets had already cost him seven thousand dollars. "And now," +said he, "I cannot withdraw, for I cannot lose what I have already paid. +The number has not been up once in eight years; its turn must come soon. +If I were to sell my ticket, some one would be sure to draw the great +prize with it the week after." This, perhaps, is not very unlike the +calculations of business risks most in vogue in our great cities. A +single ticket costs an ounce (seventeen dollars); but you are constantly +offered fractions, to an eighth or a sixteenth. There are ticket-brokers +who accommodate the poorer classes with interests to the amount of ten +cents, and so on. Thus, for them, the lottery replaces the savings-bank, +with entire uncertainty of any return, and the demoralizing process of +expectation thrown into the bargain. The negroes invest a good deal of +money in this way, and we heard in Matanzas a curious anecdote on this +head. A number of negroes, putting their means together, had +commissioned a ticket-broker to purchase and hold for them a certain +ticket. After long waiting and paying up, news came to Matanzas that the +ticket had drawn the $100,000 prize. The owners of the negroes were in +despair at this intelligence. "Now my cook will buy himself," says one; +"my _calesero_ will be free," says another; and so on. The poor slaves +ran, of course, in great agitation, to get their money. But, lo! the +office was shut up. The rascal broker had absconded. He had never run +the risk of purchasing the ticket; but had coolly appropriated this and +similar investments to his own use, preferring the bird in the hand to +the whole aviary of possibilities. He was never heard of more; but +should he ever turn up anywhere, I commend him as the fittest subject +for Lynch-law on record. + +Well, as I have told you, all these golden chances wait for you at the +Dominica, and many Americans buy, and look very foolish when they +acknowledge it. The Nassauese all bought largely during their short +stay; and even their little children held up with exultation their +fragments of tickets, all good for something, and bad for something, +too. + +If you visit the Dominica in the evening, you find the same crowd, only +with a sprinkling of women, oftenest of your own country, in audacious +bonnets, and with voices and laughter which bring the black eyes upon +them for a time. If it be Sunday evening, you will see here and there +groups of ladies in full ball-dress, fresh from the Paseo, the _volante_ +waiting for them outside. All is then at its gayest and busiest; but +your favorite waiter, with disappointment in his eyes, will tell you +that there is "_no mas_" of your favorite _granizada_, and will persuade +you to take, I know not what nauseous substitute in its place; for all +ices are not good at the Dominica, and some are (excuse the word) nasty. +People sit and sip, prolonging their pleasures with dilatory spoon and +indefatigable tongue. Group follows group; but the Spaniards are what I +should call heavy sitters, and tarry long over their ice or chocolate. +The waiter invariably brings to every table a chafing-dish with a +burning coal, which will light a cigar long after its outer glow has +subsided into ashy white. Some humans retain this kindling +power;--_vide_ Ninon and the ancient Goethe;--it is the heart of fire, +not the flame of beauty, that does it. When one goes home, tired, at ten +or eleven, the company shows no sign of thinning, nor does one imagine +how the ground is ever cleared, so as to allow an interval of sleep +between the last ice at night and the first coffee in the morning. It is +the universal _siesta_ which makes the Cubans so bright and fresh in the +evening. With all this, their habits are sober, and the evening +refreshment always light. No suppers are eaten here; and it is even held +dangerous to take fruit as late as eight o'clock, P.M. + +The Dominica has still another aspect to you, when you go there in the +character of a citizen and head of family to order West India sweetmeats +for home-consumption. You utter the magic word _dulces_, and are shown +with respect into the establishment across the way, where a neat +steam-engine is in full operation, tended by blacks and whites, stripped +above the waist, and with no superfluous clothing below it. Here they +grind the chocolate, and make the famous preserves, of which a list is +shown you, with prices affixed. As you will probably lose some minutes +in perplexity as to which are best for you to order, let me tell you +that the guava jelly and marmalade are first among them, and there is no +second. You may throw in a little pine-apple, mamey, lime, and +cocoa-plum; but the guava is the thing, and, in case of a long run on +the tea-table, will give the most effectual support. The limes used to +be famous in our youth; but in these days they make them hard and tough. +The marmalade of bitter oranges is one of the most useful of Southern +preserves; but I do not remember it on the list of the Dominica. Having +given your order, let me further advise you to remain, if practicable, +and see it fulfilled; as you will find, otherwise, divers trifling +discrepancies between the bill and the goods as delivered, which, though +of course purely accidental, will all be, somehow, to the Dominica's +advantage, and not to yours. If you are in moderate circumstances, order +eight or ten dollars' worth; if affluent, twenty or thirty dollars' +worth; if rash and extravagant, you may rise even to sixty dollars; but +you will find in such an outlay food for repentance. One word in your +ear: do not buy the syrups, for they are made with very bad sugar, and +have no savor of the fruits they represent. + +And this is all I can tell about the Dominica, which I recommend to all +of you for refreshment and amusement. We have nothing like it in New +York or Boston,--our _salons_ of the same description having in them +much more to eat and much less to see. As I look back upon it, the place +assumes a deeply Moorish aspect. I see the fountain, the golden light, +the dark faces, and intense black eyes, a little softened by the +comforting distance. Oh! to sit there for one hour, and help the +garçon's bad English, and be pestered by the beggar, and tormented by +the ticket-vender, and support the battery of the wondering looks, which +make it sin for you, a woman, to be abroad by day! Is there any +purgatory which does not grow lovely as you remember it? Would not a man +be hanged twice, if he could? + +[To be continued.] + + + + +ZELMA'S VOW. + +[Continued from the July Number.] + +PART SECOND. + +HOW IT WAS KEPT. + + +It was late when Zelma Burleigh returned to the Grange. As she stole +softly into the hall, she startled an Italian greyhound, which was lying +asleep on a mat near the door. As he sprang up, the little silver bells +on his collar tinkled out his master's secret;--Sir Harry Willerton was +still in the drawing-room with Bessie. + +As Zelma passed up to her chamber, she said to herself bitterly,--"Thus +openly and fearlessly can the rich and well-born woo and be wooed, while +such as we must steal away to happiness as to crime, and plight our vows +under the chill and shadow of night!" But the next moment she felt that +there was about her love a piquant sense of peril and lawlessness, a +wild flavor infinitely more to her taste than would be any prudent, +commendable affection grown in drawing-rooms, nourished by +conventionalism, and propped by social fitness; and remembering the +manly beauty and brilliant parts of her lover, she felt that she would +not exchange him for the proudest noble of the realm. + +After a time Bessie came stealing up from the drawing-room, and lay +down by her cousin's side, softly, for fear of waking her; and all night +long Bessie's secret curled about her smiling mouth, and quivered +through the lids of her shut eyes, and overran her red lips in murmurs +of happy dreams; but Zelma's secret burned like slow fire in her deepest +heart. Bessie dreamed of merry games and quiet rambles and country +_fêtes_ with the gay Sir Harry; but Zelma, when at last she slept, +dreamed of wandering with her adventurous lover from province to +province,--then of playing Juliet to his Romeo before a vast +metropolitan audience. + +Days went on, and Bessie's pure, transparent nature, a lily-bud of +sweetest womanhood, seemed unconsciously revealing itself, leaf by leaf, +to all the world, and blooming out its beautiful innermost life; but +Zelma's secret still smouldered in her shut heart, never by any chance +flaming up to her lips in words. Her month assumed a look of rigid +resolution, almost of desperation; and her eyes shone with a hard, +diamond-like brilliancy, fitful, but never soft or tearful. Her manner +grew more and more moody and constrained, till even her matter-of-fact +uncle and aunt, good easy souls, and her absorbed cousin, became curious +and anxious. The little elfish black pony was in more frequent request +than ever; for his mistress now went out at any hour that suited her +whim, in any weather, chose the loneliest by-ways, and rode furiously. +Often, at evening, she ascended a dark gorge of the western hills and +plunged down on the other side, as though in hot pursuit of the setting +sun; and at length there came a report from the gossiping post-mistress +of a little village over there, that she came for letters, which she +duly received, addressed in a dashing, manly hand. This story, coming to +the ears of Roger Burleigh, quickened his dull suspicions that +"something was wrong with that poor girl"; and just as he was getting +positive and peremptory, and Bessie perplexed and alarmed, Zelma +disappeared! + +For several days there were anxious inquiries and vain searches in every +direction,--storming, weeping, and sleeplessness in the Squire's usually +happy household; and then came a letter, whose Scottish post-mark +revealed much of the mystery. It was from Zelma, telling that she had +left the Grange forever, and become the wife of "Mr. Bury, the strolling +player"; and saying that she had taken this step of her own free will, +knowing it to be a fatal, unpardonable sin against caste, and that it +would set a great gulf between her and her respectable relatives. Yet, +she asked, had not a gulf of _feeling_, as deep and wide, ever separated +their hearts from the gypsy's daughter? and was it not better and more +honest to break the weak social ties of protection and dependence which +had stretched like wild vines across the chasm to hide it from the +world? She then bade them all an abrupt and final farewell It was a +letter brief, cold, and curt, almost to insolence; but beneath her new +name, which was dashed off with somewhat of a dramatic flourish, there +appeared hurriedly scrawled in pencil a woman's postscript, containing +the real soul of the letter, a passionate burst of feeling, a bitter cry +of long-repressed, sorrowful tenderness. It implored forgiveness for any +pain she might ever have given them, for any disgrace she might ever +bring upon them,--it thanked and blessed them for past kindness, and +humbly prayed for them the choicest gifts and the most loving protection +of Heaven. This postscript was signed "Zelle,"--the orphan's childish +and pet name at the Grange, which she now put off with the peace and +purity of maidenhood and domestic life. + +When it was known how Zelma Burleigh had fled, and with whom, the +neighboring gentry were duly shocked and scandalized. The village +gossips declared that they had always foreseen some such fate for "that +strange girl," and sagely prophesied that the master of Willerton Hall +would abandon all thought of an alliance with a family whose escutcheon +had suffered so severely. But they counted on the baronet, not on the +man,--and so, for once, were mistaken. + +As for honest Roger Burleigh, he was beside himself with amazement and +indignation at the folly and ingratitude of his niece and the +measureless presumption of "that infernal puppy of a play-actor," as he +denominated Zelma's clever husband. + +As he was one day talking over the sad affair with his friend Sir Harry, +who best succeeded in soothing him down, he inveighed against all actors +and actresses in the strongest terms of aversion and contempt, giving +free expression to the violent provincial prejudice of his time against +players of all degrees. + +"But, my dear Sir," interrupted the young Baronet, "your niece has not +become an actress,--only the wife of a promising actor." + +"No,--but she will be one yet. She's stage-struck now, more than +anything else; and mark my words,--that villain will have her on the +boards before the year's end, and live by her ranting. Why, you see, Sir +Harry, strolling is in the blood, and must out, I suppose. The girl, as +you may have heard, is half gypsy. My brother, Captain Burleigh, was a +sad scamp, and actually married a Spanish Zincala! He was drunk at the +time, we have the consolation to believe, or he could never have so far +belied his good old English blood, dissipated dog as he was. To be sure, +she saved his life once, and really was a beautiful, devoted creature, +by all accounts; and if Zelma had done no worse than she,--run away with +any poor devil, provided only he were a gentleman,--or if she had gone +off vagabondizing with one of her mother's people, it would not have +been so infamous an affair as it is; she might still have been accounted +an honest woman;--but, my God, Sir Harry, a strolling player!" + +Mrs. Burleigh was but a dutiful echo of her husband's prejudices, and +gave up her hapless niece as lost beyond redemption; but Bessie, though +she grieved more than either, suffered from no sense of humiliation, and +allowed no virtuous anger, no injurious doubts, to enter her blessed +little heart. Yet she missed her lost companion, her strong friend, and, +still vine-like in her instincts, turned wholly to the new support,--to +one who submitted himself gladly to the sweet inthralment, and felt all +the grander for the luscious weight and tendril-like clasp. And so Love +came to pretty Bessie's heart "with healing in his wings." + + * * * * * + +Unspeakable was the dismay of Mr. Bury at finding that a very modest +amount of personal property was all that his runaway wife could hope to +receive from her relatives,--that she was utterly portionless, her +father having more than exhausted the patrimony of a younger son. He had +supposed, from Zelma's apparently honorable position in the household of +her uncle, that she was, if not an heiress, at least respectably +dowered. Had he been better informed, it is doubtful whether, +improvident and enamored as he was, he would have ruralized and +practicalized Romeo in the lane of Burleigh Grange. Zelma herself, too +unworldly to suspect that self-interest had anything to do with her +conquest, never alluded to her lack of dowry till it was too late. Then +both manly shame and manly passion (for the actor loved her in his way, +which was by no means her way, or the way of any large, loyal nature) +restrained all unbecoming expression of chagrin and disappointment,-- +which yet sunk into his heart, and prepared the not uncongenial coil for +a goodly crop of suspicion, jealousy, alienation, aversion, and all +manner of domestic infelicities. + +We cannot follow Zelma step by step, in her precarious and wandering +life, for the six months succeeding her marriage. It was a life not +altogether distasteful to her. She was not enough of a fine lady to be +dismayed or humiliated by its straits and shifts of poverty, by its +isolation and ostracism; while there was something in its alternations +of want and profusion, in its piquant contrasts of real and mimic life, +in its excitement, action, and change, which had a peculiar charm for +her wild and restless spirit. But from many of the associations of the +stage, from nearly all actors and actresses, and from all green-room +loungers, she instinctively recoiled, and held herself haughtily aloof +from the motley little world behind the scenes,--apparently by no +effort, but as sphered apart by the atmosphere of refinement and +superiority which enveloped her. Yet she almost constantly accompanied +her husband to rehearsal and play, where, for a time, her presence was +grateful both to the pride and a more amiable passion of her mercurial +lord. But the sight of that shy, shadowy figure haunting the wings, of +those keen, critical eyes ever following the business of the stage, at +last grew irksome to him, and he would fain have persuaded her to remain +quietly at their lodgings, whilst he was attending to his professional +duties. But no, she would go with him,--not for pleasure, or even +affection, but, as she always avowed, for artistic purposes. That she +had cherished, ever since her marriage, the plan of adopting her +husband's profession, she had never concealed from him. He usually +laughed, in his gay, supercilious way, when she spoke of this purpose, +or lightly patted her grand head and declared her to be a wilful, +unpractical enthusiast,--too much a child of Nature to attempt an art of +any kind,--born to _live_ and _be_ poetry, not to declaim it,--to +inspire genius, not to embody it,--a Muse, not a Sibyl. + +Once, when she was more than usually earnest in pleading for her +plan,--not merely on the strength of her own deep, prophetic conviction +of her fitness for a dramatic career, but on the ground of an urgent and +bitter necessity for exertion on her part, to ward off actual +destitution and suffering,--he exclaimed, somewhat impatiently,--"Why, +Zelma, it is an impossibility, almost an absurdity, you urge! You could +never make an actress. You are too hopelessly natural, erratic, and +impulsive. You would follow no teaching implicitly, but, when you saw +fit, would trample on conventionalities and venerable stage-traditions. +You would set up the standard of revolt against the ancient canons of +Art, and flout it in the faces of the critics, and--_fail_,--ay, fail, +in spite of your great, staring eyes, the tragic weight of your brows, +and the fiery swell of your nostril." + +"I should certainly tread my own ways on the boards, as elsewhere," +replied Zelma, quietly,--"move and act from the central force, the +instinct and inspiration of Nature,--letting the passion of my part work +itself out in its own gestures, postures, looks, and tones,--falling +short of, or going beyond, mere stage-traditions. With all due deference +for authorities, this would be my art, as it has been the art of all +truly great actors. I shall certainly not adopt my husband's profession +without his consent,--but I shall never cease importuning him for that +consent." + +Lawrence "laughed a laugh of merry scorn," and left her to her solitary +studies and the patient nursing of her purpose. + +It was finally, for Zelma's sake, through the unsolicited influence of +Sir Harry Willerton, that "Mr. Lawrence Bury, Tragedian," attained to a +high point in a provincial actor's ambition,--a London engagement. + +After a disheartening period of waiting and idleness, during which he +and his wife made actual face-to-face acquaintance with want, and both +came near playing their parts in the high-tragedy of starvation in a +garret, he made his first appearance before the audience of Covent +Garden, in the part of Mercutio. He was young, shapely, handsome, and +clever,--full of flash and dash, and, above all, _new_. He had chosen +well his part,--Mercutio,--that graceful frolic of fancy, which less +requires sustained intellectual power than the exaltation of animal +spirits,--that brief sunburst of life, that brilliant bubble of +character, which reflects, for a moment, a world of beauty and sparkle, +and dies in a flash of wit, yet leaves on the mind a want, a tender +regret, which follow one through all the storm and woe of the tragedy. + +So it was little wonder, perhaps, that he achieved a decided success, +though incomparably greater artists had failed where he triumphed, and +that, in spite of the doubtful looks and faint praise of the critics, he +became at once a public favorite,--the fashion, the rage. Ladies of the +highest _ton_ condescended to admire and applaud, and hailed as a +benefactor the creator of a new sensation. + +Very soon the young actor's aspiring soul rose above all secondary +parts, dropped Mercutio and Horatio for Romeo and Hamlet, and had not +the sense to see that he was getting utterly out of his element, dashing +with silken sails into the tempest of tragedy, soaring on Icarian wings +over its profoundest deeps and into the height and heat of its intensest +passion. + +Yet with the young, the unthinking, the eager, the curious, it was then +as it is now and ever shall be,--confidence easily passed for genius, +and presumption for power. Tributes of admiration and envy poured in +upon him,--anonymous missives, tender and daring, odorous with the +atmosphere of luxurious boudoirs, and coarse scrawls, scented with +orange-peel and lamp-smoke, and seeming to hiss with the sibilant +whisper of green-room spite; and the young actor, valuing alike the +sentiments, kindly or malign, which ministered to his egoism, +intoxicated with the first foamy draught of fame, grew careless, +freakish, and arrogant, as all suddenly adopted pets of the public are +likely to do. + +At length Mr. Bury played before Royalty, and Royalty was heard to say +to Nobility in attendance,--"What!--Who is he? Where did he come from? +How old is he? Not quite equal to Garrick yet, but clever,--eh, my +Lord?" + +This gracious royal criticism, being duly reported and printed, removed +the last let to aristocratic favor; fast young bloods of the highest +nobility did not acorn to shake off their perfumes and air their profane +vocabulary in the green-room, offering snuff and the incense of flattery +together to the Tamerlane, the Romeo, or the Lord Hamlet of the night. + +Happily, with the actor's fame rose his salary; and as both rose, the +actor and his wife descended from their lofty attic-room--into whose one +window the stars looked with, it seemed to Zelma, a startling +nearness--to respectable lodgings on the second floor. + +It was during this first London season that the manager of Covent +Garden, himself an actor, remarked the rare capabilities of Zelma's +face, voice, and figure for the stage, and in a matter-of-fact business +way spoke of them to her husband. The leading actor looked annoyed, and +sought to change the subject of conversation; but as the wife's dreamy +eyes flashed with sudden splendor, revealing the true dramatic fire, the +manager returned upon him with his artistic convictions and practical +arguments, and at length wrung from him most reluctant consent that +Zelma, after the necessary study, should make a trial of her powers. + +Though well over the first summer-warmth of his romantic passion, +Lawrence Bury had not yet grown so utterly cold toward his beautiful +wife that he could see that trial approach without some slight +sympathetic dread; but his miserable egoism forbade him to wish her +success; in his secret heart he even hoped that an utter, irretrievable +failure would wither at once and forever her pretty artistic +aspirations. + +Zelma chose for her _début_ the part of Zara in "The Mourning +Bride,"--not out of any love for the character, which was too stormy, +vicious, and revengeful to engage her sympathies,--but because it was +rapid, vehement, sharply defined, and, if realized at all, she said, +would put her, by its very fierceness and wickedness, too far out of +herself for failure,--sweep her through the play like a whirlwind, and +give her no time to droop. It had for her heart, moreover, a peculiar +charm of association, as her first play,--as that in which she had first +beheld the hero of her dreams, "the god of her idolatry," before whom +she yet bowed, but as with eyes cast down or veiled, not in reverence, +but from a chill, unavowed fear of beholding the very common clay of +which he was fashioned. + +The awful night of the _début_ arrived, as doomsday will come at last; +and after having been elaborately arrayed for her part by a gossiping +tire-woman, who _would_ chatter incessantly, relating, for the +encouragement of the _débutante_, tale after tale of stage-fright, +swoons, and failure,--after having been plumed, powdered, and most +reluctantly rouged, the rose of nineteen summers having suddenly paled +on her cheek, Zelma was silently conducted from her dressing-room by her +husband, who, as Osmyn, took his stand with her, the guards, and +attendants at the left wing, awaiting the summons to the presence of +King Manuel. As they were listening to the last tender bleating of +Almeria, the same pretty actress whom Zelma had seen as Zara at Arden, +and the gruff responses of her sire, an eager whisper ran through the +group;--the King and Queen had entered the royal box! This was quite +unexpected, and Zelma was aghast. Involuntarily, she stretched out her +hand and grasped that of her husband;--as she did so, the rattle of the +chains on her wrist betrayed her. The attendants looked round and +smiled;--Lawrence frowned and turned away, with a boy's pettishness. He +had been more than usually moody that day; but Zelma had believed him +troubled for her sake, and even now interpreted his unkindness as +nervous anxiety. + +The next moment, everything, even he, was forgotten; for she stood, she +hardly knew how, upon the stage, receiving and mechanically +acknowledging a great burst of generous British applause. + +It was a greeting less complaisant and patronizing than is usually given +to _débutantes_. Zelma's youthful charms, heightened by her sumptuous +dress, took her audience by surprise, and, while voice and action +delayed, made for her friends and favor, and bribed judgment with +beauty. + +King Manuel receives his captives with a courteous speech,--only a few +lines; but, during their reading, through what a lifetime of fear, of +pain, of unimaginable horrors passed Zelma! Stage-fright, that waking +nightmare of _débutantes_, clutched her at once, petrifying, while it +tortured her. The house seemed to surge around her, the stage to rock +under her feet. She fancied she heard low, elfish laughter behind the +scenes, and already the hiss of the critics seemed to sing in her +reeling brain. A thousand eyes pierced her through and through,--seemed +to see how the frightened blood had shrunk away from its mask of rouge +and hidden in her heart,--how that poor childish heart fluttered and +palpitated,--how near the hot tears were to the glazed eyeballs,--how +fast the black, obliterating shadows were creeping over the records of +memory,--how the first instinct of fear, a blind impulse to flight, was +maddening her. + +She raised her eyes to the royal box, where sat a stout, middle-aged +man, with a dull, good-humored face, a star and ribbon on his breast, +and by his side a woman, ample and motherly, with an ugly tuft of +feathers on her head, and a diamond tiara, which lit up her heavy Dutch +features like a torch. The King, the Queen! + +Just at this moment, his Majesty was in gracious converse with a lady on +his right, a foreign princess, of an ancient, unpronounceable title,--a +thin, colorless head and form, overloaded with immemorial +family-jewels,--a mere frame of a woman, to hang brilliants upon. She +was one shine and shiver of diamonds, from head to foot;--she palpitated +light, like a glow-worm. Her Majesty, meanwhile, was regaling herself +from a jewelled snuff-box, and talking affably over her shoulder to her +favorite mistress of the robes, the fearful Schwellenberg. + +But Zelma, looking through the transfiguring atmosphere of loyalty, +beheld the royal group encompassed by all the ideal splendor and +sacredness of majesty;--over their very commonplace heads towered the +airy crowns of a hundred regal ancestors, piled round on round, and +glimmering away into the clouds. + +Ere she turned her fascinated eyes away from the august sight, her cue +was given. She started, and struggled to speak, but her lips clung +together. There was a dull roar and whirl in her brain, as of a vortex +of waters. In piteous appealing she looked into the face of her husband, +and caught on his lips a strange, faint smile of mingled pity and +exultation. It stung her like a lash! Instantly she was herself, or +rather Zara, a captive, but every inch a queen, and delivered herself +calmly and proudly, though with a little tremble of her past agitation +in her voice,--a thrill of womanly feeling, which felt its way at once +to the hearts of her audience. + +The first act, however, afforded her so little scope for acting, that +she left the stage unassured of her own success. There was doubt before +and behind the curtain. The critics had given no certain sign,--the +general applause might have been merely an involuntary tribute to youth +and beauty. Actors and actresses hung back,--even the friendly manager +was guarded in his congratulations. But in the second act the +_débutante_ put an end to this dubious state of things,--at least, so +far as her audience was concerned. "The Captive Queen" took captive all, +save that stern row of critics,--the indomitable, the incorruptible. +Their awful judgment still hung suspended over her head. + +In a scene with Osmyn Zelma first revealed her tragic power. In her +fitful tenderness, in the passionate reproaches which she stormed upon +him, in her entreaties and imprecations, she was the poet's ideal, and +more. She dashed into the crude and sketchy character bold strokes of +Nature and illuminative gleams of genius, all her own. + +Mr. Bury, as Osmyn, was cold and unsympathetic, avoided the eye of Zara, +and was even more tender than was "set down in the book" to Almeria. + +"How well he acts his part!" said to herself the generous Zelma. + +"How anxiety for his wife dashes his spirit!" said the charitable +audience. + +At the close of this act the manager grasped Zelma's hand, and spoke of +her success as certain. She thanked him with an absent air, and gazed +about her wistfully. Surely her husband should have been the first to +give her joy. But he did not come forward. She shrank away to her +dressing-room, and waited for him vainly till she knew he was on the +stage, where she next met him in the great prison-scene. + +In this scene, some bitterness of feeling--the first sharp pangs of +jealousy--gave, unconsciously to herself, a terrible vitality and +reality to her acting. She filled the stage with the electrical +atmosphere of her genius. Waxen Almeria, who was to have gone out as she +entered, received a shock of it, and stood for a moment transfixed. Even +Osmyn kindled out of his stony coldness, and gazed with awe and +irrepressible admiration at this new revelation of that strange, +profound creature he had called "wife." She, so late a shy woodland +nymph, stealing to his embrace,--now an angered goddess, blazing before +him, calling down upon him the lightnings of Olympus, with all the world +to see him shrink and shrivel into nothingness! And all this power and +passion, overtopping his utmost reach of art, outsoaring his wildest +aspirations, he had wooed, fondled, and protected! At first he was +overwhelmed with amazement; he could hardly have been more so, had a +volcano broken out through his hearth-stone; but soon, under the fierce +storm of Zara's taunts and reproaches, a sullen rage took possession of +him. He could not separate the actress from the wife,--and the wife +seemed in open, disloyal revolt. Every burst of applause from the +audience was an insult to him; and he felt a mad desire to oppose, to +defy them all, to assert a master's right over that frenzied woman, to +grasp her by the arm and drag her from the stage before their eyes! + +This scene closes with a memorable speech:-- + + "Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent + The base injustice thou hast done my love! + Ay, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress, + And all the evils thou so long hast mourned, + Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned!" + +Zelma gave these lines as no pre-Siddonian actress had ever given +them,--with a certain _sublimity_ of rage, the ire of an immortal,--and +swept off the scene before a wild tumult of applause, led by the +vanquished critics. It followed her, surge on surge, to her +dressing-room, whither she hastily retreated through a crowd of players +and green-room _habitués_. + +That sudden tempest shook even the royal box. The King, who a short time +before had been observed to nod, not shaking his "ambrosial locks" in +Jove-like approval, but somnolently, started up, exclaiming, "What! +what! what's that?"--and the Queen--took snuff. + +In her dressing-room Zelma waited for her husband. "Surely he will come +now," she said. + +She had already put off the tragedy-queen; she was again the loving +wife, yearning for one proud smile, one tender word, one straining +embrace. The tempest outside the curtain still rolled in upon her, as +she sat alone, drooping and sad, a spent thunder-cloud. The sound +brought her no sense of triumph; she only looked around her drearily, +like a frightened child, and called, "Lawrence!" + +Instead of him came the manager. She must go before the curtain; the +audience would not be denied. + +Lawrence led her out,--holding her hot, trembling fingers in his cold, +nerveless hand, a moody frown on his brow, and his lips writhing with a +forced smile. + +As Zelma bent and smiled in modest acknowledgment of renewed applause, +led by royalty itself,--her aspirations so speedily fulfilled, her +genius so early crowned,--even at that supreme moment, the grief of the +woman would have outweighed the triumph of the artist, and saddened all +those plaudits into knell-like sounds, could she have known that the +miserable fiends of envy and jealousy had grasped her husband's heart +and torn it out of her possession forever. + +In the death-scene, where the full tide of womanly feeling, which has +been driven out of Zara's heart by the volcanic shocks of fierce +passions, comes pouring back with whelming force, Zelma lost none of her +power, but won new laurels, bedewed with tears from "eyes unused to +weep." + +Zara dies by her own hand, clinging to the headless body of King Manuel, +believing it to be Osmyn's. Zelma gave the concluding lines of her part +brokenly, in a tone of almost childlike lamenting, with piteous murmurs +and penitent caresses:-- + + "Cold, cold!--my veins are icicles and frost! + Cover us close, or I shall chill his breast, + And fright him from my arms!--See! see! he slides + Still farther from me! Look! he hides his face! + I cannot feel it!--quite beyond my reach!--Ah, + now he's gone, and all is dark!" + +With that last desolate moan of a proud and stormy spirit, sobbing +itself into the death-quiet, a visible shudder crept through the house. +Even the King threw himself back in his royal chair with an +uncomfortable sort of "ahem!" as though choking with an emotion of +common humanity; and the Queen--forgot to take snuff. + + * * * * * + +From the night of her triumphant _début_, the life of the actress ran in +the full sunlight of public favor; but the life of the woman crept away +into the shadow,--not of that quiet and repose so grateful to the true +artist, but of domestic discomfort and jealous estrangement. + +Nobly self-forgetful always, Zelma, in the first hour of success, +feeling, in spite of herself, the pettiness and egoism of her husband's +nature, with a sense of humiliation in which it seemed her very soul +blushed, offered to renounce forever the career on which she had just +entered. Mr. Bury, however, angrily refused to accept the sacrifice, +though she pressed it upon him, at last, as a "peace-offering," on her +knees, and weeping like a penitent. "It is too late," he said, bitterly. +"The deed is done. You are mine no longer,--you belong to the public;--I +wish you joy of your fickle master." + +From that time Zelma went her own ways, calm and self-reliant outwardly, +but inwardly tortured with a host of womanly griefs and regrets, a +helpless sense of wrong and desolation. She flew to her beautiful art +for consolation, flinging herself, with a sort of desperate abandonment, +out of her own life of monotonous misery into the varied sorrows of the +characters she personated. For her the cup of fame was not mantling with +the wine of delight which reddens the lips and "maketh glad the heart." +The costly pearl she had dissolved in it had not sweetened the draught; +but it was intoxicating, and she drank it with feverish avidity. + +But for Lawrence Bury, his powers flagged and failed in the unnatural +rivalship; his acting grew more and more cold and mechanical. He became +more than ever subject to moods and caprices, and rapidly lost favor +with the public, till at last he was regarded only as the husband of the +popular actress,--then, merely tolerated for her sake. He fell, or +rather flung himself, into a life of reckless dissipation and +profligacy, and sunk so low that he scrupled not to accept from his +wife, and squander on base pleasures, money won by the genius for which +he hated her. Many were the nights when Zelma returned from the +playhouse to her cheerless lodgings, exhausted, dispirited, and alone, +to walk her chamber till the morning, wrestling with real terrors and +sorrows, the homely distresses of the heart, hard, absolute, +unrelieved,--to which the tragic agonies she had been representing +seemed but child's play. + +At length, finding himself at the lowest ebb of theatrical favor, and +hating horribly the scene of his humiliating defeat, Mr. Bury resolved +to return to his old strolling life in the provinces. Making at the same +moment the first announcement of his going and his hurried adieux to +Zelma, who heard his last cold words in dumb dismay, with little show of +emotion, but with heavy grief and dread presentiments at her heart, he +departed. He was accompanied by the fair actress with whom he played +first parts at Arden,--but now, green-room gossip said, not in a merely +professional association. This story was brought to Zelma; but her +bitter cup was full without it. With a noble blindness, the fanaticism +of wifely faith, she rejected it utterly. "He is weak, misguided, mad," +she said, "but not so basely false as that. He must run his wild, +wretched course awhile longer,--it seems necessary for him; but he will +return at last,--surely he will,--sorrowful, repentant, 'in his right +mind,' himself and mine once more. He cannot weary out God's patience +and my love." + +After the first shock of her desertion was past, Zelma was conscious of +a sense of relief from a weight of daily recurring care and humiliation, +the torture of an unloving presence, chill and ungenial as arctic +sunlight. Even in the cold blank of his absence there was something +grateful to her bruised heart, like the balm of darkness to suffering +eyes. Her art was now all in all to her,--the strong-winged passion, +which lifted her out of herself and her sorrows. She was studying Juliet +for the first time. She had been playing for more than a year before she +could be prevailed upon to attempt a Shakspearian character, restrained +by a profound modesty from exercising her crude powers upon one of those +grand creations. + +When, at length, she made choice of Juliet, what study was hers!--how +reverent! how loving! how glad!--the perfect service of the spirit! She +shut out the world of London from her sight, from her thoughts, till it +seemed lost in one of its own fogs. The air, the sky, the passion, the +poetry of Italy were above and around her. Again she revelled in that +wondrous garden of love and poesy, with a background of graves, +solemnizing joy. Now her fancy flitted, on swift, unresting wing, from +beauty to beauty,--now settled, bee-like, on some rich, half-hidden +thought, and hung upon it, sucking out its most sweet and secret heart +of meaning. She steeped her soul in the delicious romance, the summer +warmth, the moonlight, the sighs and tears of the play. She went from +the closet to the stage, not brain-weary and pale with thought, but +fresh, tender, and virginal,--not like one who had committed the _part_ +of Juliet, but one whom Juliet possessed in every part. She seemed to +bear about her an atmosphere of poetry and love, the subtile spirit of +that marvellous play. There was no air of study, not the faintest taint +of the midnight oil;--like a gatherer of roses from some garden of +Cashmere, or a peasant-girl from the vintage, she brought only odors +from her toil,--the sweets of the fancy, a flavor of the passion she had +made her own. + +On her first night in this play, Zelma was startled by recognizing among +the audience the once familiar faces of her uncle Roger, her cousin +Bessie, and Sir Harry Willerton. They had all come up to London to draw +up the papers and purchase the _trousseau_ for the wedding, which would +have taken place a year sooner, but for the death of Bessie's mother. + +Squire Burleigh had been entrapped by his daughter and her lover into +coming to the play,--he being in utter ignorance as to whom he was to +see in the part of Juliet. When he recognized his niece in the ball-room +scene, he was shocked, and even angry. He started up, impetuously, to +leave the house; and it was only by the united entreaties of Bessie and +Sir Harry that he was persuaded to stay. As the play went on, however, +his sympathies became enlisted, in spite of his prejudices. Gradually +his heart melted toward the fair offender, and irrepressible tears of +admiration and pity welled up to his kindly blue eyes. He watched the +progress of the drama with an almost breathless interest while she was +before him, but grew listless and indifferent whenever she left the +stage. The passion of Romeo, the philosophy of the Friar, the quaint +garrulousness of the Nurse, the trenchant wit of Mercutio were alike +without charm for him. + +But though thus lost in the fortunes and sorrows of the heroine of the +play, the dramatic illusion was far from complete for him. It was not +Juliet,--it was Zelma, the wild, misguided, lost, but still beloved +child of his poor brother; and in his bewildered brain her sad story was +strangely complicated with that of the hapless girl of Verona. When she +swallowed the sleeping-draught, he shrank and shuddered at the horrible +pictures conjured up by her frenzied fancy; and in the last woful scene, +he forgot himself, the play, the audience, everything but her, the +forlorn gypsy child, the shy and lonely little girl whom long years ago +he had taken on his knee, and smoothed down her tangled black hair, as +he might have smoothed the plumage of an eaglet, struggling and +palpitating under his hand, and glancing up sideways, with fierce and +frightened eyes,--and now, when he saw her about to plunge the cruel +blade into her breast, he leaped to his feet and electrified the house +by calling out, in a tone of agonized entreaty,--"Don't, Zelle! for +God's sake, don't! Leave this, and come home with us,--home to the +Grange!" + +It was a great proof of Mrs. Bury's presence of mind and command over +her emotions, that she was not visibly discomposed by this strange and +touching appeal, or by the laughter and applause it called forth, but +finished her sad part, and was Juliet to the last. + +When, obeying the stormy summons of the audience, the lovers arose from +the dead, and glided ghost-like before the curtain, Zelma, really pale +with the passion and woe of her part, glanced eagerly at the box in +which she had beheld her friends;--it was empty. The worthy Squire, +overcome with confusion at the exposure he had made of his weakness and +simplicity, had hurried from the theatre, willingly accompanied by his +daughter and Sir Harry. + +On the following day, sweet Bessie Burleigh, with the consent, at the +request even, of her father, sought out her famous cousin, bearing terms +of reconciliation and proffers of renewed affection. + +The actress was alone. She had just risen from her late breakfast, and +was in a morning costume,--careless, but not untidy. She looked languid +and jaded; the beautiful light of young love, which the night before had +shone with a soft, lambent flame in every glance, seemed to have burned +itself out in her hollow eyes, or to have been quenched in tears. + +She flung herself on her cousin's breast with a laugh of pure joy and a +child's quick impulse of lovingness; but almost immediately drew herself +back, as with a sudden sense of having leaned across a chasm in the +embrace. But Bessie, guessing her feeling, clung about her very +tenderly, calling her pet names, smoothing her hair and kissing her wan +cheek till she almost kissed back its faded roses. And infinite good she +did poor Zelma. + +Bessie--dear, simple heart!--was no diplomatist; she did not creep +stealthily toward her object, but dashed at it at once. + +"I am come, dearest Zelle, to win you home," she said. "You cannot think +how lonely it is at the Grange, now that dear mamma is gone; and +by-and-by it will be yet more lonely,--at least, for poor papa. He loves +you still, though he was angry with you at first,--and he longs to have +you come back, and to make it all up with you. Oh, I am sure, you must +be weary of this life,--or rather, this mockery of life, this prolonged +fever dream, this playing with passion and pain! It is killing you! Why, +you look worn and anxious and sad as death by daylight, though you do +bloom out strangely bright and beautiful on the stage. So, dear, come +into the country, and rest and renew your life." + +Zelma opened her superb eyes in amazement, and her cheek kindled with a +little flush of displeasure; yet she answered playfully,--"What! would +you resolve 'the new star of the drama' into nebulousness and +nothingness again? Remember my art, sweet Coz; I am a priestess sworn to +its altar." + +"But, surely," replied Bessie, ingenuously, "you will not live on thus +alone, unprotected, a mark for suspicion and calumny; for they say--they +say that your husband has deserted you." + +"Mr. Bury is absent, fulfilling a professional engagement. I shall await +his return here," replied Zelma, haughtily. + +Bessie blushed deeply and was silent. So, too, was the actress, for some +moments; then, softened almost to tears, half closing her eyes, and +letting her fancy float away like thistle-down over town and country, +upland, valley, and moor, she said softly,--"Dear Burleigh Grange, how +lovely it must be now! What a verdurous twilight reigns under the old +elms of the avenue!--in what a passion of bloom the roses are unfolding +to the sun, these warm May-days! How the honeysuckles drip with sweet +dews! how thickly the shed hawthorn-blossoms lie on the grass of the +long lane, rolling in little drifts before the wind! And the birds,--do +the same birds come back to nest in their old places about the Grange, I +wonder?" + +"Yes," answered Bessie, smiling; "I think all the birds have come back, +save one, the dearest of them all, who fled away in the night-time. Her +nest is empty still. Oh, Zelle, do you remember our pleasant little +chamber in the turret? I could not stay there when you were gone. It is +the stillest, loneliest place in all the house now. Even your pet hound +refuses to enter it." + +"Now, my Cousin, you are really cruel," said Zelma, the tears at last +forcing their way through her reluctant eyelids. "When I left Burleigh +Grange, I went like Eve from Paradise,--_forever_." + +"Ah, but Cousin dear, there is no terrible angel with a flaming sword +guarding the gates of the Grange against you." + +"Yes, the angel of its peace and ancient honor," said the actress; then +added, pleasantly, "and he is backed by a mighty ogre, _Respectability_. +No, no, Bessie, I can never go back to my old home, or my old self; it +is quite impossible. But you and my uncle are very good to ask me. +Heaven bless you for that! And, dear, when you are Lady Willerton, a +proud wife, and, if God please, a happy mother, put me away from your +thoughts, if I trouble you. Rest in the safe haven of home, anchored in +content, and do not vex yourself about the poor waif afloat on wild, +unknown seas. It is not worth while." + +So Bessie Burleigh was obliged to abandon her dear, impracticable plan; +and the cousins parted forever, though neither thought or meant it then. +Bessie returned to Arden, married the master of Willerton Hall, and slid +into the easy grooves of a happy, luxurious country-life; while Zelma +rode for a few proud years on the topmost swell of popular favor,--then +suddenly passed away beyond the horizon of London life, and so, as it +were, out of the world. + +One dreary November night, after having revealed new powers and won new +honors by her first personation of Belvedera, Zelma went home to find on +her table a brief, business-like letter from the manager of a theatre at +Walton, a town in the North, stating that Mr. Lawrence Bury had died +suddenly at that place of a violent, inflammatory disease, brought on, +it was to be feared, by some excesses to which he had been addicted. The +theatrical wardrobe of the deceased (of small value) had been retained +in payment for expenses of illness and burial; his private papers were +at the disposal of the widow. Deceased had been buried in the parish +church-yard of Walton. This was all. + +Zelma had abruptly dismissed her maid, that she might read quite +unobserved a letter which she suspected brought news from her husband; +so she was quite alone throughout that fearful night. What fierce, +face-to-face wrestlings with grief and remorse were hers! What sweet, +torturing memories of love, of estrangement, of loss! What visions of +_him_, torn with the agonies, wild with the terrors of death, calling +her name in vain imploring or with angry imprecations!--of him, so +young, so sinful, dragged struggling toward the abyss of mystery and +night, wrenched, as it were, out of life, with all its passions hot at +his heart! + +Hour after hour she sat at her table, grasping the fatal letter, still +as death, and all but as cold. She yet wore the last dress of Belvedera, +and was half enveloped by the black cloud of her dishevelled hair; but +the simulated frenzy, which so late had drawn shuddering sighs from a +thousand hearts, was succeeded by a silent, stony despair, infinitely +more terrible. A sense of hopeless desolation and abandonment settled +upon her soul; the distances of universes seemed to separate her from +the dead. But to this suddenly succeeded a chill, awful sense of a +presence, wrapped in silence and mystery, melting through all material +barriers, treading on the impalpable air, not "looking ancient kindness +on her pain," but lowering amid the shadows of her chamber, stern, +perturbed, unreconciled. All these lonely horrors, these wild griefs, +unrelieved by human sympathy or companionship, by even the unconscious +comfort which flows in the breathing of a near sleeper, crowded and +pressed upon her brain, and seemed to touch her veins with frost and +fire. + +For long weeks, Zelma lay ill, with a slow, baffling fever. Her mind, +torn from its moorings, went wandering, wandering, over a vast sea of +troubled dreams,--now creeping on through weary stretches of calm, now +plunging into the heart of tempests and tossed upon mountainous surges, +now touching momently at islands of light, now wrecked upon black, +desert shores. + +All was strange, vague, and terrible, at first; but gradually there +stole back upon her her own life of womanhood and Art,--its scenes and +changes, its struggles, temptations, and triumphs, its brief joy and +long sorrow, all shaken and confused together, but still familiar. Now +the faces of her audiences seemed to throng upon her, packing her room +from floor to ceiling, darkening the light, sucking up all the air, and +again piercing her through and through with their cold, merciless gaze. +Now the characters she had personated grouped themselves around her bed, +all distinct, yet duplicates and multiplications of herself, mocking her +with her own voice, and glaring at her with her own eyes. Now pleasant +summer-scenes at Burleigh Grange brightened the dull walls, and a memory +of the long lane in the white prime of its hawthorn bloom flowed like a +river of fragrance through her chamber. Then there strode in upon her a +form of beauty and terror, and held her by the passion and gloom of his +eye,--and with him crept in a chill and heavy air, like an exhalation +from the rank turf of neglected graves. + + * * * * * + +Zelma recovered from this illness, if it could be called a recovery, to +a state of only tolerable physical health, and a condition of pitiable +mental apathy and languor. She turned with a half-weary, half-petulant +distaste from her former pursuits and pleasures, and abandoned her +profession with a sort of terror,--feeling that its mockery of sorrows, +such as had fallen so crushingly on her unchastened heart, would madden +her utterly. But neither could she endure again the constraint and +conventionalities of English private life; she had died to her art, and +she glided, like a phantom, out of her country, and out of the thoughts +of the public, in whose breath she had lived, for whose pleasure she had +toiled, often from the hidden force of her own sorrows, the elements of +all tragedy seething in her secret heart. + +Year after year she lived a wandering, out-of-the-way life on the +Continent. It was said that she went to Spain, sought out her mother's +wild kindred, and dwelt with them, making their life her life, their +ways her ways, shrinking neither from sun-glare nor tempest, privation +nor peril. But, at length, tired of wandering and satiated with +adventure, she flung off the Zincala, returned to England, and even +returned, forsworn, to her art, as all do, or long to do, who have once +embraced it from a genuine passion. + +She made no effort to obtain an engagement at Covent Garden; for her, +that stage was haunted by a presence more gloomy than Hamlet, more +dreadful than the Ghost. Nor did she seek to tread, with her free, +unpractised step, the classic boards of Drury Lane,--where Garrick, the +_Grand Monarque_ of the Drama, though now toward the end of his reign, +ruled with jealous, despotic sway,--but modestly and quietly appeared at +a minor theatre, seeming, to such play-goers as remembered her brief, +brilliant career and sudden disappearance, like the Muse of Tragedy +returned from the shades. + +She was kindly received, both for her own sake, and because of the +pleasant memories which the sight of her, pale, slender, and sad-eyed, +yet beautiful still, revived. Those who had once sworn by her swore by +her still, and were loath to admit even to themselves that her early +style of acting--easy, flowing, impulsive, the natural translation in +action of a strong and imaginative nature--must remain what, in the long +absence of the actress, it had become, a beautiful tradition of the +stage,--that her present personations were wanting in force and +spontaneity,--that they were efforts, rather than inspirations,--were +marked by a weary tension of thought,--were careful, but not composed, +roughened by unsteady strokes of genius, freshly furrowed with labor. + +Mrs. Bury made a grave mistake in choosing for her second _début_ her +great part of Juliet; for she had outlived the possibility of playing it +as she played it at that period of her life when her soul readily melted +in the divine glow of youthful passion and flowed into the character, +taking its perfect shape, rounded and smooth and fair. Through long +years of sorrow and unrest, she had now to toil back to that golden +time,--and there was a sort of sharpness and haggardness about her +acting, a singular tone of weariness, broken by starts and bursts of +almost preternatural power. Except in scenes and sentiments of pathos, +where she had lost nothing, the last, fine, evanishing tints, the +delicate aroma of the character, were wanting in her personation. It was +touched with autumnal shadows,--it was comparatively hard and dry, not +from any inartistic misapprehension of the poet's ideal, but because the +fountain of youth in Zelma's own soul ran low, and was choked by the +dead violets which once sweetened its waters. + +She felt all this bitterly that night, ere the play was over; and though +her audience generously applauded and old friends congratulated her, she +never played Juliet again. + +Yet, even in the darker and sterner parts, in which she was once so +famous, she was hardly more successful now. In losing her bloom and +youthful fulness of form, she had not gained that statuesque repose, or +that refined essence of physical power and energy, which sometimes +belongs to slenderness and pallor. She was often strangely agitated and +unnerved when the occasion called most for calm, sustained power,--at +times, glancing around wildly and piteously, like a haunted creature. +Her passion was fitful and strained,--the fire of rage flickered in her +eye, her relaxed lips quivered out curses, her hand shook with the +dagger and spilled the poison. Her sorrows, real and imaginary, seemed +to have broken her spirit with her heart. + +But in anything weird and supernatural, awful with vague, unearthly +terrors, she was greater than ever. Whenever, in her part of Lady +Macbeth, she came to the sleep-walking scene, that shadowy neutral +ground between death and life, where the perturbed, burdened spirit +moans out its secret agony, she gave startling token of the genius which +had electrified and awed her audiences of old. A solemn stillness +pervaded the house; every eye followed the ghost-like gliding of her +form, every ear hung upon the voice whose tones could sound the most +mysterious and awful depths of human grief and despair. + + * * * * * + +It was during the first season of her reappearance that Mrs. Bury went +to Drury Lane, on an off-night, to witness one of the latest efforts of +Garrick as Richard the Third. He was, as usual, terribly great in the +part; but, in spite of his overwhelming power, Zelma found herself +watching the Lady Anne of the night with a strange, fascinated interest. +This part, of too secondary and negative a character for the display of +high dramatic powers, even in an actress who should be perfect mistress +of herself, was borne by a young and beautiful woman, new to the London +stage, though of some provincial reputation, who on this occasion was +distressingly nervous and ill-assured. She had to contend not only with +stage-fright, but Garrick-fright. "She met Roscius in all his terrors," +and shrank from the encounter. The fierce lightnings of his dreadful +eyes seemed to shrivel and paralyze her; even his demoniac cunning and +persuasiveness filled her with mortal fear. Her voice shook with a +pathetic tremor, became hoarse and almost inaudible; her eyes sank, or +wandered wildly; her brow was bathed with the sweat of a secret agony; +she might have given way utterly under the paralyzing spell, had not +some sudden inspiration of genius or love, a prophetic thrill of power, +or a memory of her unwearied babe, come to nerve, to upbear her. She +roused, and went through her part with some flickering flashes of +spirit, and through all her painful embarrassment was stately and +graceful by the regal necessity of her beauty. The event was not +success,--was but a shade better than utter failure; and when, soon +after, that beautiful woman dropped out of London dramatic life, few +were they who missed her enough to ask whither she had gone. + +But Zelma, whose sad, searching eyes saw deeper than the eyes of +critics, recognized from the first her grand, long-sought ideal in the +fair unknown, whose name had appeared on the play-bills in small, +deprecating type, under the overwhelming capitals of "MR. +GARRICK"--"_Mrs. Siddons_." She looked upon that frightened and fragile +woman with prophetic reverence and noble admiration: and as she walked +her lonely chamber that night, she said to herself, somewhat sadly, but +not bitterly,--"The true light of the English drama has arisen at last. +'Out, out, brief candle!'" + + * * * * * + +Season after season, year after year, Zelma continued to play in London, +but never again with the fame, the homage, the flatteries and triumphs +of a great actress. All these she saw at last accorded to her noble +rival. Mrs. Bury had shone very acceptably in a doubtful dramatic +period,--first as an inspired, impassioned enthusiast, and after as a +conscientious artist, subdued and saddened, yet always careful and +earnest; but, like many another lesser light, she was destined to be +lost sight of in the long, splendid day of the Kembles. + +Yet once again the spirit of unrest, the nomadic instinct, came back +upon Zelma Bury,--haunted her heart and stirred in her blood till she +could resist no longer, but, joining a company for a provincial tour, +left London. + +The health of the actress had been long declining, under the almost +unsuspected attacks of a slow, insidious disease. She was more weak and +ill than she would confess, even to herself; she wanted change, she +said, only change. She never dreamed of rest. Week after week she +travelled,--never tarrying long enough In one place to weary of it,--the +peaceful sights and sounds of rural life tranquillizing and refreshing +her soul, as the clear expanse of its sky, the green of its woods and +parks, the daisied swell of its downs refreshed and soothed her eye, +tired of striking forever against dull brick walls and struggling with +smoke and fog. + +Then May came round,--the haunted month of all the year for her. The +hawthorn-hedges burst into flower,--the high-ways and by-paths and lanes +became Milky Ways of bloom, and all England was once more veined with +fragrance. + +They were in the North, when one morning Zelma was startled by hearing +the manager say that the next night they should play at Walton. It was +there that Lawrence Bury died; it was there he slept, in the stranger's +unvisited grave. She would seek out that grave and sink on it, as on the +breast of one beloved, though long estranged. It would cool the dull, +ceaseless fever of her heart to press it against the cold mound, and to +whisper into the rank grass her faithful remembrance, her forgiveness, +her unconquerable love. + +But it was late when the players reached Walton; and, after the +necessary arrangements for the evening were concluded, Zelma found that +she had no time for a pilgrimage to the parish churchyard. She could see +it from a window of her lodgings;--it was high-walled, dark and damp, +crowded with quaint, mossy tomb-stones, and brooded over by immemorial +yews. In the deepening, misty twilight, there was something awful in the +spot. It was easy to fancy unquiet spectres lurking in its gloomy +shadows, waiting for the night Yet Zelma's heart yearned toward it, and +she murmured softly, as she turned away, "Wait for me, love!" + +The play, on this night, was "The Fair Penitent." In the character of +Calista Mrs. Bury had always been accounted great, though it was +distasteful to her. Indeed, for the entire play she expressed only +contempt and aversion; yet she played her part in it faithfully and +carefully, as she performed all professional tasks. + +In reading this tragedy now, one is at a loss to understand how such +trash could have been tolerated at the very time of the revival of a +pure dramatic literature,--how such an unsavored broth of sentiment, +such a meagre hash of heroics, could have been relished, even when +served by Kembles, after the rich, varied, Olympian banquets of +Shakspeare. + +The argument is briefly this:-- + +Calista, daughter of Sciolto, is betrothed to Altamount, a young lord, +favored by Sciolto. Altamount has a friend, Horatio, and an enemy, +Lothario, secretly the lover and seducer of Calista, whose dishonor is +discovered by Horatio, shortly after her marriage with Altamount, to +whom he reveals it. Calista denies the charge, with fierce indignation +and scorn; and the young husband believes her and discredits his friend. +But the fourth act brings the guilt of Calista and the villany of +Lothario fully to light. Lothario is killed by the injured husband, +Sciolto goes mad with shame and rage, and Calista falls into a state of +despair and penitence. + +The fifth act opens with Sciolto's elaborate preparations for vengeance +on his daughter. The stage directions for this scene are,-- + + ["A room hung with black: on one side Lothario's + body on a bier; on the other a table, + with a skull and other bones, a book, and a + lamp on it. Calista is discovered on a couch, + in black, her hair hanging loose and disordered. + After soft music, she rises and comes + forward."] + +She takes the book from the table, but, finding it the pious prosing of +some "lazy, dull, luxurious gownsman," flings it aside. She examines the +cross-bones curiously, lays her hand on the skull, soliloquizing upon +mortality, somewhat in the strain of Hamlet; then peers into the coffin +of Lothario, beholds his pale visage, "grim with clotted blood," and the +stern, unwinking stare of his dead eyes. Sciolto enters and bids her +prepare to die; but while she stands meek and unresisting before him, +his heart fails him; he rushes out, and is shortly after killed by +Lothario's faction. Calista then dies by her own hand, leaving Altamount +desperate and despairing. + +Poor Calista is neither a lovely nor a lofty character; but there is +something almost grand in her fierce pride, in her defiant _hauteur_, in +her mighty struggle with shame. Mrs. Siddons made the part terribly +impressive. Mrs. Bury softened it somewhat, giving it a womanly dignity +and pathos that would seem foreign and almost impossible to the +character. + + * * * * * + +When Zelma entered her dressing-room, on that first night at Walton, she +found on her table a small spray of hawthorn-blossoms. + +"How came these flowers here?" she asked, in a hurried, startled tone. + +"I placed them there," replied her little maid, Susan, half-frightened +by the strange agitation of her mistress. "I plucked the sprig in our +landlady's garden; for I remembered that you loved hawthorn-blossoms, +and used often to buy them in Covent-Garden Market." + +"Ah, yes; thank you, Susan. I do indeed love them, and I will wear them +to-night." + +As she said this, she placed the flowers in her bosom,--but, the little +maid noticed, not as an ornament, but quite out of sight, where her +close bodice would crush them against her heart. + +During the first acts of the play, Zelma was languid, absent, and more +unequal than usual. A strange sense of evil, a vague foreboding, haunted +her. It was in vain that she said to herself, "What have I, a lonely, +disappointed woman, loveless and joyless, to fear of misfortune +more,--since death itself were welcome as change, and doubly welcome as +rest?" The nameless fear still clung to her, sending cold thrills along +her veins, fiercely grasping and holding her palpitating heart. + +When, in the last act, reclining on her sombre couch, she waited through +the playing of the "soft music," there came to her a little season of +respite and calm. Tender thoughts, and sweet, wild fancies of other days +revisited her. The wilted hawthorn-blossoms in her bosom seemed to +revive and to pour forth volumes of fragrance, which enveloped her like +an atmosphere; and as she rose and advanced slowly toward the +foot-lights, winking dimly like funeral lamps amid the gloom of the +scene, it strangely seemed to her that she was going down the long, +sweet lane of Burleigh Grange. The magic of that perfume, and something +of kindred sweetness in the sad, wailing music, brought old times and +scenes before her with preternatural distinctness. Then she became +conscious of a _something_ making still darker and deeper the gloomy +shadows cast by the black hangings of the scene,--a presence, not +palpable or visible to the senses, but terribly real to the finer +perceptions of the spirit,--a presence unearthly, yet familiar and +commanding, persistent, resistless, unappeasable,--moving as she moved, +pausing as she paused, clutching at her hands, and searching after her +eyes. The air about her seemed heavy with a brooding horror which sought +to resolve itself into shape,--the dread mystery of life in death +waiting to be revealed. Her own soul seemed groping and beating against +the veil which hides the unseen; she gasped, she trembled, and great +drops, like the distillation of the last mortal anguish, burst from her +forehead. + +She was roused by a murmur of applause from the audience. She was acting +so well! Nerving herself by an almost superhuman effort, her +phantom-haunted soul standing at bay, she approached the table, and +began, in a voice but slightly broken, the reading of her melancholy +soliloquy. But, as she laid her hand on the skull, she gave a wild start +of horror,--not at the touch of the cold, smooth bone, nor at the blank, +black stare of the eyeless sockets, but at finding beneath her hand a +mass of soft, curling hair, damp, as with night-dew!--at beholding eyes +with "speculation" in them,--ay, with human passions, luminous and +full,--eyes that now yearned with love, now burned with hate,--ah, God! +the eyes of Lawrence Bury! + +With a shrill, frenzied shriek, Zelma sprang back and stood for a moment +shuddering and crouching in a mute agony of fear. Then she burst into +wild cries of grief and passionate entreaty, stretching her tremulous +hands into the void air, in piteous imploring. + +"She has gone mad! Take her away!" shouted the excited audience; but +before any one could reach her, she had fallen on the stage in strong +convulsions. + +The actors raised her and bore her out; and as they did so, a little +stream of blood was seen to bubble from her lips. A medical man, who +happened to be present, having proffered his services, was hurried +behind the scenes to where the sufferer lay, on a rude couch in the +green-room, surrounded by the frightened players, and wept over by her +faithful little maid. + +The audience lingered awhile within sound of the fitful, frenzied cries +of the dying actress, and then dispersed in dismay and confusion. + +Zelma remained for some hours convulsed and delirious; but toward +morning she sank into a deep, swoon-like sleep of utter exhaustion. She +awoke from this, quite sane and calm, but marble-white and cold,--the +work of death all done, it seemed, save the dashing out of the sad, wild +light yet burning in her sunken eyes. But the bright red blood no longer +oozed from her lips, and they told her she was better. She gave no heed +to the assurance, but, somewhat in her old, quick, decisive way, called +for the manager. Scarcely had he reached her side, when she began to +question him eagerly, though in hoarse, failing tones, in regard to the +skull used in the play of the preceding night. The manager had procured +it of the sexton, he said, and knew nothing more of it. + +She sent for the sexton. He came,--a man "of the earth, earthy,"--a man +with a grave-ward stoop and a strange uneven gait, caught in forty +years' stumbling over mounds. A smell of turf and mould, an odor of +mortality, went before him. + +He approached the couch of the actress, and looked down upon her with a +curious, professional look, as though he were peering into a face newly +coffined or freshly exhumed; but when Zelma fixed her live eyes upon +him, angry and threatening, and asked, in abrupt, yet solemn tones, +"Whose was that skull you brought for me last night?" he fell back with +an exclamation of surprise and terror. As soon as he could collect +himself sufficiently, he replied, that, to the best of his knowledge, +the skull had belonged to a poor play-actor, who had died in the parish +some sixteen or, it might be, eighteen years before; and compelled by +the merciless inquisition of those eyes, fixed and stern, though +dilating with horror, he added, that, if his memory served him well, the +player's name was _Bury_. + +A strong shudder shivered through the poor woman's frame at this +confirmation of the awful revealment of the previous night; but she +replied calmly, though with added sternness,--"He was my husband. How +dared you disturb his bones? Are you a ghoul, that you burrow among +graves and steal from the dead?" + +The poor man eagerly denied being anything so inhuman. The skull had +rolled into a grave he had been digging by the side of the almost +forgotten grave of the poor player; and, as the manager had bespoken one +for the play, he had thought it no harm to furnish him this. But he +would put it back carefully into its place that very day. + +"See that you do it, man, if you value the repose of your own soul!" +said Zelma, with an awful impressiveness, raising herself on one elbow +and looking him out of the room. + +When he was gone, she sunk back and murmured, partly to herself, partly +to her little maid, who wept through all, the more that she did not +understand,--"I knew it was so; it was needless to ask. Well, 'tis well; +he will forgive me, now that I come when he calls me, accomplishing to +the utmost my vow. He will make peace with me, when I take my old place +at his side,--when my head shall lie as low as his,--when he sees that +all the laurels have dropped away,--when he sees the sorrow shining +through the dark of my hair in rifts of silver." + +After a little time she grew restless, and would return to her lodgings. + +As the doctor and her attendant were about placing her in a sedan-chair +to bear her away, a strange desire seized her to behold the theatre and +tread the boards once more. They conducted her to the centre of the +stage, and seated her on the black couch of Calista. There they left her +quite alone for a while, and stood back where they could observe without +disturbing her. They saw her gaze about her dreamily and mournfully; +then she seemed to be recalling and reciting some favorite part. To +their surprise, the tones of her voice were clear and resonant once +more; and when she had ceased speaking, she rose and walked toward them, +slowly, but firmly, turning once or twice to bow proudly and solemnly to +an invisible audience. Just before she reached them, she suddenly +pressed her hand on her heart, and the next instant felt forward into +the arms of her maid. The young girl could not support the weight--the +_dead_ weight, and sank with it to the floor. Zelma had made her last +exit. + + + + +THE MURDER OF THE INNOCENTS. + +A SECOND EPISTLE TO DOLOROSUS. + + +So you are already mending, my dear fellow? Can it be that my modest +epistle has done so much service? Are you like those invalids in Central +Africa, who, when the medicine itself is not accessible, straightway +swallow the written prescription as a substitute, inwardly digest it, +and recover? No,--I think you have tested the actual _materia medica_ +recommended. I hear of you from all directions, walking up hills in the +mornings and down hills in the afternoons, skimming round in wherries +like a rather unsteady water-spider, blistering your hands upon +gymnastic bars, receiving severe contusions on your nose from +cricket-balls, shaking up and down on hard-trotting horses, and making +the most startling innovations in respect to eating, sleeping, and +bathing. Like all our countrymen, you are plunging from one extreme to +the other. Undoubtedly, you will soon make yourself sick again; but your +present extreme is the safer of the two. Time works many miracles; it +has made Louis Napoleon espouse the cause of liberty, and it may yet +make you reasonable. + +After all, that advice of mine, which is thought to have benefited you +so greatly, was simply that which Dr. Abernethy used to give his +patients: "Don't come to me,--go buy a skipping-rope." If you can only +guard against excesses, and keep the skipping-rope in operation, there +are yet hopes for you. Only remember that it is equally important to +preserve health as to attain it, and it needs much the same regimen. Do +not be like that Lord Russell in Spence's Anecdotes, who only went +hunting for the sake of an appetite, and who, the moment he felt any +sensation of vitality in the epigastrium, used to turn short round, +exclaiming, "I have found it!" and ride home from the finest chase. It +was the same Lord Russell, by the way, who, when he met a beggar and was +implored to give him something, because he was almost famished with +hunger, called him a happy dog, and envied him too much to relieve him. +From some recent remarks of your boarding-house hostess, my friend, I am +led to suppose that you are now almost as well off, in point of +appetite, as if you were a beggar; and I wish to keep you so. + +How much the spirits rise with health! A family of children is a very +different sight to a healthy man and to a dyspeptic. What pleasure you +now take in yours! You are going to live more in their manner and for +their sakes, henceforward, you tell me. You are to enter upon business +again, but in a more moderate way; you are to live in a pleasant little +suburban cottage, with fresh air, a horse-railroad, and good schools. +For I am startled to find that your interest In your offspring, like +that of most American parents, culminates in the school-room. This +important matter you have neglected long enough, you think, foolishly +absorbed in making money for them. Now they shall have money enough, to +be sure, but wisdom in plenty. Angelina shall walk in silk attire, and +knowledge have to spare. To which school shall you send her? you ask me, +with something of the old careworn expression, pulling six different +prospectuses from your pocket. Put them away, Dolorosus; I know the +needs of Angelina, and I can answer instantly. Send the girl, for the +present at least, to that school whose daily hours of session are the +shortest, and whose recess-times and vacations are of the most +formidable length. + +No, anxious parent, I am not joking. I am more anxious for your children +than you are. On the faith of an ex-teacher and ex-school-committee- +man,--for what respectable middle-aged American man but has passed +through both these spheres of uncomfortable usefulness?--I am terribly +in earnest. Upon this point asserted,--that the merit of an American +school, at least so far as Angelina is concerned, is in inverse ratio to +the time given to study,--I will lay down incontrovertible propositions. + +Sir Walter Scott, according to Carlyle, was the only perfectly healthy +literary man who ever lived,--in fact, the one suitable text, he says, +for a sermon on health. You may wonder, Dolorosus, what Sir Walter Scott +has to do with Angelina, except to supply her with novel-reading, and +with passages for impassioned recitation, at the twilight hour, from the +"Lady of the Lake." But that same Scott has left one remark on record +which may yet save the lives and reasons of greater men than himself, +more gifted women (if that were possible) than Angelina, if we can only +accept it with the deference to which that same healthiness of his +entitles it. He gave it as his deliberate opinion, in conversation with +Basil Hall, that five and a half hours form the limit of healthful +mental labor for a mature person. "This I reckon very good work for a +man," he said,--adding, "I can very seldom reach six hours a day; and I +reckon that what is written after five or six hours' hard mental labor +is not good for much." This he said in the fulness of his magnificent +strength, and when he was producing, with astounding rapidity, those +pages of delight over which every new generation still hangs enchanted. + +He did not mean, of course, that this was the maximum of possible mental +labor, but only of wise and desirable labor. In later life, driven by +terrible pecuniary involvements, he himself worked far more than this. +Southey, his contemporary, worked far more,--writing, in 1814, "I cannot +get through more than at present, unless I give up sleep, or the little +exercise I take (walking a mile and back, after breakfast); and, that +hour excepted, and my meals, (barely the meals, for I remain not one +minute after them,) the pen or the book is always in my hand." Our own +time and country afford a yet more astonishing instance. Theodore +Parker, to my certain knowledge, has often spent in his study from +twelve to seventeen hours daily, for weeks together. But the result in +all these cases has sadly proved the supremacy of the laws which were +defied; and the nobler the victim, the more tremendous the warning +retribution. + +Let us return, then, from the practice of Scott's ruined days to the +principles of his sound ones. Supposing his estimate to be correct, and +five and a half hours to be a reasonable limit for the day's work of a +mature brain, it is evident that even this must be altogether too much +for an immature one. "To suppose the youthful brain," says the recent +admirable report by Dr. Ray, of the Providence Insane Hospital, "to be +capable of an amount of work which is considered an ample allowance to +an adult brain is simply absurd, and the attempt to carry this fully +into effect must necessarily be dangerous to the health and efficacy of +the organ." It would be wrong, therefore, to deduct less than a +half-hour from Scott's estimate, for even the oldest pupils in our +highest schools; leaving five hours as the limit of real mental effort +for them, and reducing this, for all younger pupils, very much farther. + +It is vain to suggest, at this point, that the application of Scott's +estimate is not fair, because the mental labor of our schools is +different in quality from his, and therefore less exhausting. It differs +only in being more exhausting. To the robust and affluent mind of the +novelist, composition was not, of itself, exceedingly fatiguing; we know +this from his own testimony; he was able, moreover, to select his own +subject, keep his own hours, and arrange all his own conditions of +labor. And on the other hand, when we consider what energy and genius +have for years been brought to bear upon the perfecting of our +educational methods,--how thoroughly our best schools are now graded +and systematized, until each day's lessons become a Procrustes-bed to +which all must fit themselves,--how stimulating the apparatus of prizes +and applauses, how crushing the penalties of reproof and +degradation,--when we reflect, that it is the ideal of every school, +that the whole faculties of every scholar should be concentrated upon +every lesson and every recitation from beginning to end, and that +anything short of this is considered partial failure,--it is not +exaggeration to say, that the daily tension of brain demanded of +children in our best schools is altogether severer, while it lasts, than +that upon which Scott based his estimate. But Scott is not the only +authority in the case; let us ask the physiologists. + +So said Horace Mann, before us, in the days when the Massachusetts +school system was in process of formation. He asked the physiologists, +in 1840, and in his next Report printed the answers of three of the most +eminent. The late Dr. Woodward, of Worcester, promptly said, that +children under eight should never be confined more than one hour at a +time, nor more than four hours a day; and that, if any child showed +alarming symptoms of precocity, it should be taken from school +altogether. Dr. James Jackson, of Boston, allowed the children four +hours' schooling in winter and five in summer, but only one hour at a +time, and heartily expressed his "detestation of the practice of giving +young children lessons to learn at home." Dr. S. G. Howe, reasoning +elaborately on the whole subject, said, that children under eight should +not be confined more than half an hour at a time,--"by following which +rule, with long recesses, they can study four hours daily"; children +between eight and fourteen should not be confined more than +three-quarters of an hour at a time, having the last quarter of each +hour for exercise in the playground,--and he allowed six hours of school +in winter, or seven in summer, solely on condition of this deduction of +twenty-five per cent, for recesses. + +Indeed, the one thing about which doctors do _not_ disagree is the +destructive effect of premature or excessive mental labor. I can quote +you medical authority for and against every maxim of dietetics beyond +the very simplest; but I defy you to find one man who ever begged, +borrowed, or stole the title of M.D., and yet abused those two honorary +letters by asserting, under their cover, that a child could safely study +as much as a man, or that a man could safely study more than six hours a +day. Most of the intelligent men in the profession would probably admit, +with Scott, that even that is too large an allowance in maturity for +vigorous work of the brain. + +Taking, then, five hours as the reasonable daily limit of mental effort +for children of eight to fourteen years, and one hour as the longest +time of continuous confinement, (it was a standing rule of the Jesuits, +by the way, that no pupil should study more than two hours without +relaxation,) the important question now recurs, To what school shall we +send Angelina? + +Shall we send her, for instance, to Dothegirls' Hall? At that seminary +of useful knowledge, I find by careful inquiry that the daily +performance is as follows, at least in summer. The pupils rise at or +before five, A.M.; at any rate, they study from five to seven, two +hours. From seven to eight they breakfast. From eight to two they are in +the schoolroom, six consecutive hours. From two to three they dine. From +three to five they are "allowed" to walk or take other exercise,--that +is, if it is pleasant weather, and if they feel the spirit for it, and +if the time is not all used up in sewing, writing letters, school +politics, and all the small miscellaneous duties of existence, for which +no other moment is provided during day or night. From five to six they +study; from six to seven comes the tea-table; from seven to nine study +again; then bed and (at least for the stupid ones) sleep. + +Eleven solid hours of study each day, Dolorosus! Eight for sleep, three +for meals, two during which out-door exercise is "allowed." There is no +mistake about this statement; I wish there were. I have not imagined it; +who could have done so, short of Milton and Dante, who were versed in +the exploration of kindred regions of torment? But as I cannot expect +the general public to believe the statement, even if you do,--and as +this letter, like my previous one, may accidentally find its way into +print,--and as I cannot refer to those who have personally attended the +school, since they probably die off too fast to be summoned as +witnesses,--I will come down to a rather milder statement, and see if +you will believe that. + +Shall we send her, then, to the famous New York school of Mrs. +Destructive? This is recently noticed as follows in the "Household +Journal":--"Of this most admirable school, for faithful and well-bred +system of education, we have long intended to speak approvingly; but in +the following extract from the circular the truth is more expressively +given:--'From September to April the time of rising is a quarter before +seven o'clock, and from April to July half an hour earlier; then +breakfast; after which, from eight to nine o'clock, study,--the school +opening at nine o'clock, with reading the Scriptures and prayer. From +nine until half past twelve, the recitations succeed one another, with +occasional short intervals of rest. From half past twelve to one, +recreation and lunch. From one to three o'clock, at which hour the +school closes, the studies are exclusively in the French language.... +From three to four o'clock in the winter, but later in the summer, +exercise in the open air. There are also opportunities for exercise +several times in the day, at short intervals, which cannot easily be +explained. From a quarter past four to five o'clock, study; then dinner, +and soon after, tea. From seven to nine, two hours of study; immediately +after which all retire for the night, and lights in the sleeping +apartments must be extinguished at half past nine.'" You have summed up +the total already, Dolorosus; I see it on your lips;--nine--hours-- +and--a quarter of study, and one solitary hour for exercise, not +counting those inexplicable "short intervals which cannot easily be +explained!" + +You will be pleased to hear that I have had an opportunity of witnessing +the brilliant results of Mrs. Destructive's system, in the case of my +charming little neighbor, Fanny Carroll. She has lately returned from a +stay of one year under that fashionable roof. In most respects, I was +assured, the results of the school were all that could be desired; the +mother informed me, with delight, that the child now spoke French like +an angel from Paris, and handled her silver fork like a seraph from the +skies. You may well suppose that I hastened to call upon her; for the +gay little creature was always a great pet of mine, and I always quoted +her with delight, as a proof that bloom and strength were not +monopolized by English girls. In the parlor I found the mother closeted +with the family physician. Soon, Fanny, aged sixteen, glided in,--a pale +spectre, exquisite in costume, unexceptionable in manners, looking in +all respects like an exceedingly used-up belle of five-and-twenty. "What +were you just saying that some of my Fanny's symptoms were, Doctor?" +asked the languid mother, as if longing for a second taste of some +dainty morsel. The courteous physician dropped them into her eager palm, +like sugar-plums, one by one: "Vertigo, headache, neuralgic pains, and +general debility." The mother sighed once genteelly at me, and then +again, quite sincerely, to herself;--but I never yet saw an habitual +invalid who did not seem to take a secret satisfaction in finding her +child to be a chip of the old block, though block and chip were both +wofully decayed. However, nothing is now said of Miss Carroll's +returning to school; and the other day I actually saw her dashing +through the lane on the family pony, with a tinge of the old brightness +in her cheeks. I ventured to inquire of her, soon after, if she had +finished her education; and she replied, with a slight tinge of satire, +that she studied regularly every day, at various "short intervals, +which could not easily be explained." + +Five hours a day the safe limit for study, Dolorosus, and these terrible +schools quietly put into their programmes nine, ten, eleven hours; and +the deluded parents think they have out-manoeuvred the laws of Nature, +and made a better bargain with Time. But these are private, exclusive +schools, you may say, for especially favored children. We cannot afford +to have most of the rising generation murdered so expensively; and in +our public schools, at least, one thinks there may be some relaxation of +this tremendous strain. Besides, physiological reformers had the making +of our public system. "A man without high health," said Horace Mann, "is +as much at war with Nature as a guilty soul is at war with the spirit of +God." Look first at our Normal Schools, therefore, and see how finely +their theory, also, presents this same lofty view. + +"Those who have had much to do with students, especially with the female +portion," said a Normal School Report a few years since, "well know the +sort of martyr-spirit that extensively prevails,--how ready they often +are to sacrifice everything for the sake of a good lesson,--how false +are their notions of true economy in mental labor, ... sacrificing their +physical natures most unscrupulously to their intellectual. Indeed, so +strong had this passion for abuse become [in this institution], that no +study of the laws of the physical organization, no warning, no painful +experiences of their own or of their associates, were sufficient to +overcome their readiness for self-sacrifice." And it appears, that, in +consequence of this state of things, circulars were sent to all +boarding-houses in the village, laying down stringent rules to prevent +the young ladies from exceeding the prescribed amount of study. + +Now turn from theory to practice. What was this "prescribed amount of +study" which these desperate young females persisted in exceeding in +this model school? It began with an hour's study before daylight (in +winter),--a thing most dangerous to eyesight, as multitudes have found +to their cost. Then from eight to half past two, from four to half past +five, from seven to nine,--with one or two slight recesses. Ten hours +and three quarters daily, Dolorosus! as surely as you are a living +sinner, and as surely as the Board of Education who framed that +programme were sinners likewise. I believe that some Normal Schools have +learned more moderation now; but I know also what forlorn wrecks of +womanhood have been strewed along their melancholy history, thus far; +and at what incalculable cost their successes have been purchased. + +But it is premature to contemplate this form of martyrdom, for Angelina, +who has to run the gantlet of our common schools and high schools first. +Let us consider her prospects in these, carrying with us that blessed +maxim, five hours' study a day,--"Nature loves the number five," as +Emerson judiciously remarks,--for our aegis against the wiles of +schoolmasters. + +The year 1854 is memorable for a bomb-shell then thrown into the midst +of the triumphant school-system of Boston, in the form of a solemn +protest by the city physician against the ruinous manner in which the +children were overworked. Fact, feeling, and physiology were brought to +bear, with much tact and energy, and the one special point of assault +was the practice of imposing out-of-school studies, beyond the habitual +six hours of session. A committee of inquiry was appointed. They +interrogated the grammar-school teachers. The innocent and unsuspecting +teachers were amazed at the suggestion of any excess. Most of them +promptly replied, in writing, that "they had never heard of any +complaints on this subject from parents or guardians"; that "most of the +masters were watchful upon the matter"; that "none of them _pressed_ +out-of-school studies"; while "the general opinion appeared to be, that +a moderate amount of out-of-school study was both necessary for the +prescribed course of study and wholesome in its influence on character +and habits." They suggested that "commonly the ill health that might +exist arose from other causes than excessive study"; one attributed it +to the use of confectionery, another to fashionable parties, another to +the practice of "chewing pitch,"--anything, everything, rather than +admit that American children of fourteen could possibly be damaged by +working only two hours day _more_ than Walter Scott. + +However, the committee thought differently. At any rate, they fancied +that they had more immediate control over the school-hours than they +could exercise over the propensity of young girls for confectionery, or +over the improprieties of small boys who, yet immature for tobacco, +touched pitch and were defiled. So by their influence was passed that +immortal Section 7 of Chapter V. of the School Regulations,--the Magna +Charta of childish liberty, so far as it goes, and the only safeguard +which renders it prudent to rear a family within the limits of Boston:-- + +"In assigning lessons to boys to be studied out of school-hours, the +instructors shall not assign a longer lesson than a boy of good capacity +can acquire by an hour's study; but no out-of-school lessons shall be +assigned to girls, nor shall the lessons to be studied in school be so +long as to require a scholar of ordinary capacity to study out of school +in order to learn them." + +It appears that since that epoch this rule has "generally" been +observed, "though many of the teachers would prefer a different +practice." "The rule is regarded by some as an uncomfortable +restriction, which without, adequate reason (!) retards the progress of +pupils." "A majority of our teachers would consider the permission to +assign lessons for study at home to be a decided advantage and +privilege." So say the later reports of the committee. + +Fortunately for Angelina and the junior members of the house of +Dolorosus, you are not now directly dependent upon Boston regulations. I +mention them only because they represent a contest which is inevitable +in every large town in the United States where the public-school system +is sufficiently perfected to be dangerous. It is simply the question, +whether children can bear more brain-work than men can. Physiology, +speaking through my humble voice, (the personification may remind you of +the days when men began poems with "Inoculation, heavenly maid!") +shrieks loudly for five hours as the utmost limit, and four hours as far +more reasonable than six. But even the comparatively moderate "friends +of education" still claim the contrary. Mr. Bishop, the worthy +Superintendent of Schools in Boston, says, (Report, 1855,) "The time +daily allotted to studies may very properly be extended to seven hours a +day for young persons over fifteen years of age"; and the Secretary of +the Massachusetts Board of Education, in his recent volume, seems to +think it a great concession to limit the period for younger pupils to +six. + +And we must not forget, that, frame regulations as we may, the tendency +will always be to overrun them. In the report of the Boston +sub-committee to which I have referred, it was expressly admitted that +the restrictions recommended "would not alone remedy the evil, or do +much toward it; there would still be much, and with the ambitious too +much, studying out of school." They ascribed the real difficulty "to the +general arrangements of our schools, and to the strong pressure from +various causes urging the pupils to intense application and the masters +to encourage it," and said that this "could only be met by some general +changes introduced by general legislation." Some few of the masters had +previously admitted the same thing: "The pressure from without, the +expectations of the committee, the wishes of the parents, the ambition +of the pupils, and an exacting public sentiment, do tend to stimulate +many to excessive application, both in and out of school." + +This admits the same fact, in a different form. If these children have +half their vitality taken out of them for life by premature and +excessive brain-work, it makes no difference whether it is done in the +form of direct taxation or of indirect,--whether they are compelled to +it by authority or allured into it by excitement and emulation. If a +horse breaks a blood-vessel by running too hard, it is no matter whether +he was goaded by whip and spur, or ingeniously coaxed by the Hibernian +method of a lock of hay tied six inches before his nose. The method is +nothing,--it is the pace which kills. Probably the fact is, that for +every extra hour directly required by the teacher, another is indirectly +extorted in addition by the general stimulus of the school. The best +scholars put on the added hour, because they are the best,--and the +inferior scholars, because they are not the best. In either case the +excess is destructive in its tendency, and the only refuge for +individuals is to be found in a combination of fortunate dulness with +happy indifference to shame. But is it desirable, my friend, to +construct our school-system on such a basis that safety and health shall +be monopolized by the stupid and the shameless? + +Is this magnificent system of public instruction, the glory of the +world, to turn out merely a vast machine for grinding down Young +America, just as the system of middle-men, similarly organized, has +ground down the Irish peasantry? Look at it! as now arranged, committees +are responsible to the public, teachers to committees, pupils to +teachers,--all pledged to extract a maximum crop from childish brains. +Each is responsible to the authority next above him for a certain +amount, and must get it out of the victim next below him. Constant +improvements in machinery perfect and expedite the work; improved gauges +and metres (in the form of examinations) compute the comparative yield +to a nicety, and allow no evasion. The child cannot spare an hour, for +he must keep up with the other children; the teacher dares not relax, +for he must keep up with the other schools; the committees must only +stimulate, not check, for the eyes of the editors are upon them, and the +municipal glory is at stake: every one of these, from highest to lowest, +has his appointed place in the tread-mill and must keep step with the +rest; and only once a year, at the summer vacation, the vast machine +stops, and the poor remains of childish brain and body are taken out and +handed to anxious parents (like you, Dolorosus):--"Here, most worthy +tax-payer, is the dilapidated residue of your beloved Angelina; take her +to the sea-shore for a few weeks, and make the most of her." + +Do not you know that foreigners, coming from the contemplation of races +less precociously intellectual, see the danger we are in, if we do not? +I was struck by the sudden disappointment of an enthusiastic English +teacher, (Mr. Calthrop,) who visited the New York schools the other day +and got a little behind the scenes. "If I wanted a stranger to believe +that the Millennium was not far off," he said, "I would take him to some +of those grand ward-schools in New York, where able heads are trained by +the thousand. I spent four or five days in doing little else than going +through these truly wonderful schools. I staid more than three hours in +one of them, wondering at all I saw, admiring the stately order, the +unbroken discipline of the whole arrangements, and the wonderful +quickness and intelligence of the scholars. That same evening I went to +see a friend, whose daughter, a child of thirteen, was at one of these +schools. I examined her, and found that the little girl could hold her +own with many of larger growth. 'Did she go to school to-day?' asked I. +'No,' was the answer, 'she has not been for some time, as she was +beginning to get quite a serious curvature of the spine; so now she goes +regularly to a gymnastic doctor!'" + +I am sure that we have all had the same experience. How exciting it was, +last year, to be sure, to see Angelina at the grammar-school +examination, multiplying mentally 351,426 by 236,145, and announcing the +result in two minutes and thirteen seconds as 82,987,492,770! I +remember how you stood trembling as she staggered under the monstrous +load, and how your cheek hung out the red flag of parental exultation +when she can out safe. But when I looked at her colorless visage, sharp +features, and shiny consumptive skin, I groaned inwardly. It seemed as +if that crop of figures, like the innumerable florets of the whiteweed, +now overspreading your paternal farm, were exhausting the last vitality +from a shallow soil. What a pity it is that the Deity gave to these +children of ours bodies as well as brains! How it interferes with +thorough instruction in the languages and the sciences! You remember the +negro-trader in "Uncle Tom," who sighs for a lot of negroes specially +constructed for his convenience, with the souls left out? Could not some +of our school-committees take measures to secure the companion set, +possessing merely the brains, and with the troublesome bodies +conveniently omitted? + +The truth is, that we Americans, having overcome all other obstacles to +universal education of the people, have thought to overcome even the +limitations imposed by the laws of Nature; and so we were going +triumphantly on, when the ruined health of our children suddenly brought +us to a stand. Now we suddenly discover, that, in the absence of +Inquisitions, and other unpleasant Old-World tortures, our school-houses +have taken their place. We have outgrown war, we think; and yet we have +not outgrown a form of contest which is undeniably more sanguinary, +since one-half the community actually die, under present arrangements, +before they are old enough to see a battle-field,--that is, before the +age of eighteen. It is an actual fact, that, if you can only keep +Angelina alive up to that birthday, even if she be an ignoramus, she +will at least have accomplished the feat of surviving half her +contemporaries. Can there be no Peace Society to check this terrific +carnage? Dolorosus, rather than have a child of mine die, as I have +recently heard of a child's dying, insane from sheer overwork, and +raving of algebra, I would have her come no nearer to the splendors of +science than the man in the French play, who brings away from school +only the general impression that two and two make five for a creditor +and three for a debtor. + +De Quincey wrote a treatise on "Murder considered as one of the Fine +Arts," and it is certainly the fine art which receives most attention in +our schools. "So far as the body is concerned," said Horace Mann of +these institutions, "they provide for all the natural tendencies to +physical ease and inactivity as carefully as though paleness and +languor, muscular enervation and debility, were held to be constituent +elements in national beauty." With this denial of the body on one side, +with this tremendous stimulus of brain on the other, and with a delicate +and nervous national organization to begin with, the result is +inevitable. Boys hold out better than girls, partly because they are not +so docile in school, partly because they are allowed to be more active +out of it, and so have more recuperative power. But who has not seen +some delicate girl, after five consecutive hours spent over French and +Latin and Algebra, come home to swallow an indigestible dinner, and +straightway settle down again to spend literally every waking hour out +of the twenty-four in study, save those scanty meal-times,--protracting +the labor, it may be, far into the night, till the weary eyes close +unwillingly over the slate or the lexicon,--then to bed, to be vexed by +troubled dreams, instead of being wrapt in the sunny slumber of +childhood,--waking unrefreshed, to be reproached by parents and friends +with the nervous irritability which this detestable routine has created? + +For I aver that parents are more exacting than even teachers. It is +outrageous to heap it all upon the pedagogues, as if they were the only +apostolical successors of him whom Charles Lamb lauded "the much +calumniated good King Herod." Indeed, teachers have no objection to +educating the bodies of their small subjects, if they can only be as +well paid for it as for educating their intellects. But, until recently, +they have never been allowed to put the bodies into the bill. And as +charity begins at home, even in a physiological sense,--and as their own +children's bodies required bread and butter,--they naturally postponed +all regard for the physical education of their pupils until the thing +acquired a marketable value. Now that the change is taking place, every +schoolmaster in the land gladly adapts himself to it, and hastens to +insert in his advertisement, "Especial attention given to physical +education." But what good does this do, so long as parents are not +willing that time enough should be deducted from the ordinary tasks to +make the athletic apparatus available,--so long as it is regarded as a +merit in pupils to take time from their plays and give it to extra +studies,--so long as we exult over an inactive and studious child, as +Dr. Beattie did over his, that "exploits of strength, dexterity, and +speed" "to him no vanity or joy could bring," and then almost die of +despair, like Dr. Beattie, because such a child dies before us? With +girls it is far worse. "Girls, during childhood, are liable to no +diseases distinct from those of boys," says Salzmann, "except the +disease of education." What mother in decent society, I ask you, who is +not delighted to have her little girl devote even Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons to additional tasks in drawing or music, rather than run the +risk of having her make a noise somewhere, or possibly even soil her +dress? Papa himself will far more readily appropriate ten dollars to +this additional confinement than five to the gymnasium or the +riding-school. And so, beset with snares on every hand, the poor little +well-educated thing can only pray the prayer recorded of a despairing +child, brought up in the best society,--that she might "die and go to +heaven and play with the Irish children on Saturday afternoons." + +And the Sunday Schools coöperate with the week-day seminaries in the +pious work of destruction. Dolorosus, are all your small neighbors hard +at work in committing to memory Scripture texts for a wager,--I have an +impression, however, that they call it a prize,--consisting of one +Bible? In my circle of society the excitement runs high. At any +tea-drinking, you may hear the ladies discussing the comparative points +and prospects of their various little Ellens and Harriets, with shrill +eagerness; while their husbands, on the other side of the room, are +debating the merits of Ethan Allen and Flora Temple, the famous +trotting-horses, who are soon expected to try their speed on our +"Agricultural Ground." Each horse, and each girl, appears to have +enthusiastic backers, though the Sunday-School excitement has the +advantage of lasting longer. From inquiry, I find the state of the field +to be about as follows:--Fanny Hastings, who won the prize last year, is +not to be entered for it again; she damaged her memory by the process, +her teacher tells me, so that she can now scarcely fix the simplest +lesson in her mind. Carry Blake had got up to five thousand verses, but +had such terrible headaches that her mother compelled her to stop, some +weeks ago; the texts have all vanished from her brain, but the headache +unfortunately still lingers. Nelly Sanborn has reached six thousand, +although her anxious father long since tried to buy her off by offering +her a new Bible twice as handsome as the prize one: but what did she +care for that? she said; she had handsome Bibles already, but she had no +intention of being beaten by Ella Prentiss. Poor child, we see no chance +for her; for Ella has it all her own way; she has made up a score of +seven thousand one hundred texts, and it is only three days to the fatal +Sunday. Between ourselves, I think Nelly does her work more fairly; for +Ella has a marvellous ingenuity in picking out easy verses, like Jack +Horner's plums, and valuing every sacred sentence, not by its subject, +but by its shortness. Still, she is bound to win. + +"How is her health this summer?" I asked her mother, the other day. + +"Well, her verses weigh on her," said the good woman, solemnly. + +And here I pledge you my word, Dolorosus, that to every one of these +statements I might append, as Miss Edgeworth does to every particularly +tough story,--"_N.B. This is a fact._" I will only add that our +Sunday-School Superintendent, who is a physician, told me that he had as +strong objections to the whole thing as I could have; but that it was no +use talking; all the other schools did it, and ours must; emulation was +the order of the day. "Besides," he added, with that sort of cheerful +hopelessness peculiar to his profession, "the boys are not trying for +the prize much, this year; and as for the girls, they would probably +lose their health very soon, at any rate, and may as well devote it to a +sacred cause." + +Do not misunderstand me. The supposed object in this case is a good one, +just as the object in week-day schools is a good one,--to communicate +valuable knowledge and develop the powers of the mind. The defect in +policy, in both cases, appears to be, that it totally defeats its own +aim, renders the employments hateful that should be delightful, and +sacrifices the whole powers, so far as its influence goes, without any +equivalent. All excess defeats itself. As a grown man can work more in +ten hours than in fifteen, taking a series of days together, so a child +can make more substantial mental progress in five hours daily than in +ten. Your child's mind is not an earthen jar, to be filled by pouring +into it; it is a delicate plant, to be wisely and healthfully reared; +and your wife might as well attempt to enrich her mignonette-bed by +laying a Greek Lexicon upon it as try to cultivate that young nature by +a topdressing of Encyclopædias. I use the word on high authority. +"Courage, my boy!" wrote Lord Chatham to his son, "only the Encyclopædia +to learn!"--and the cruel diseases of a lifetime repaid Pitt for the +forcing. I do not object to the severest _quality_ of study for boys or +girls;--while their brains work, let them work in earnest. But I do +object to this immoderate and terrific _quantity_. Cut down every +school, public and private, to five hours' total work _per diem_ for the +oldest children, and four for the younger ones, and they will accomplish +more in the end than you ever saw them do in six or seven. Only give +little enough at a time, and some freshness to do it with, and you may, +if you like, send Angelina to any school, and put her through the whole +programme of the last educational prospectus sent to me,--"Philology, +Pantology, Orthology, Aristology, and Linguistics." + +For what is the end to be desired? Is it to exhibit a prodigy, or to +rear a noble and symmetrical specimen of a human being? Because Socrates +taught that a boy who has learned to speak is not too small for the +sciences,--because Tiberius delivered his father's funeral oration at +the age of nine, and Marcus Aurelius put on the philosophic gown at +twelve, and Cicero wrote a treatise on the art of speaking at +thirteen,--because Lipsius is said to have composed a work the day he +was born, meaning, say the commentators, that he began a new life at the +age of ten,--because the learned Licetus, who was brought into the world +so feeble as to be baked up to maturity in an oven, sent forth from that +receptacle, like a loaf of bread, a treatise called +"Gonopsychanthropologia,"--is it, therefore, indispensably necessary, +Dolorosus, that all your pale little offspring shall imitate these? +Spare these innocents! it is not their fault that they are your +children,--so do not visit it upon them so severely. Turn, Angelina, +ever dear, and out of a little childish recreation we will yet extract a +great deal of maturer wisdom for you, if we can only bring this deluded +parent to his senses. + +To change the sweet privilege of childhood into weary days and restless +nights,--to darken its pure associations, which for many are the sole +light that ever brings them back from sin and despair to the heaven of +their infancy,--to banish those reveries of innocent fancy which even +noisy boyhood knows, and which are the appointed guardians of its purity +before conscience wakes,--to abolish its moments of priceless idleness, +saturated with sunshine, blissful, aimless moments, when every angel is +near,--to bring insanity, once the terrible prerogative of maturer life, +down into the summer region of childhood, with blight and ruin;--all +this is the work of our folly, Dolorosus, of our miserable ambition to +have our unconscious little ones begin, in their very infancy, the race +of desperate ambition, which has, we admit, exhausted prematurely the +lives of their parents. + +The worst danger of it is, that the moral is written at the end of the +fable, not the beginning. The organization in youth is so dangerously +elastic, that the result of these intellectual excesses is not seen +until years after. When some young girl incurs spinal disease for life +from some slight fall which she ought not to have felt for an hour, or +some businessman breaks down in the prime of his years from some +trifling over-anxiety which should have left no trace behind, the +popular verdict may be, "Mysterious Providence"; but the wiser observer +sees the retribution for the folly of those misspent days which +enfeebled the childish constitution, instead of ripening it. One of the +most admirable passages in the Report of Dr. Ray, already mentioned, is +that in which he explains, that, though hard study at school is rarely +the immediate cause of insanity, it is the most frequent of its ulterior +causes, except hereditary tendencies. "It diminishes the conservative +power of the animal economy to such a degree, that attacks of disease, +which otherwise would have passed off safely, destroy life almost before +danger is anticipated. Every intelligent physician understands, that, +other things being equal, the chances of recovery are far less in the +studious, highly intellectual child than in one of an opposite +description. The immediate mischief may have seemed slight, but the +brain is left in a condition of peculiar impressibility, which renders +it morbidly sensitive to every adverse influence." + +Indeed, here is precisely the weakness of our whole national training +thus far,--brilliant immediate results, instead of wise delays. The life +of the average American is a very hasty breakfast, a magnificent +luncheon, a dyspeptic dinner, and no supper. Our masculine energy is +like our feminine beauty, bright and evanescent. As enthusiastic +travellers inform us that there are in every American village a dozen, +girls of sixteen who are prettier than any English hamlet of the same +size can produce, so the same village undoubtedly possesses a dozen very +young men who, tried by the same standard, are "smarter" than their +English peers. Come again fifteen years after, when the Englishmen and +Englishwomen are reported to be just in their prime, and, lo! those +lovely girls are sallow old women, and the boys are worn-out men,--with +fire left in them, it may be, but fuel gone,--retired from active +business, very likely, and just waiting for consumption to carry them +off, as one waits for the omnibus. + +To say that this should be amended is to say little. Either it must be +amended, or the American race fails;--there is no middle ground. If we +fail, (which I do not expect, I assure you,) we fail disastrously. If we +succeed, if we bring up our vital and muscular developments into due +proportion with our nervous energy, we shall have a race of men and +women such as the world never saw. Dolorosus, when in the course of +human events you are next invited to give a Fourth-of-July Oration, +grasp at the opportunity, and take for your subject "Health." Tell your +audience, when you rise to the accustomed flowers of rhetoric as the day +wears on, that Health is the central luminary, of which all the stars +that spangle the proud flag of our common country are but satellites; +and close with a hint to the plumed emblem of our nation, (pointing to +the stuffed one which will probably be exhibited on the platform,) that +she should not henceforward confine her energies to the hatching of +short-lived eaglets, but endeavor rather to educate a few full-grown +birds. + +As I take it, Nature said, some years since,--"Thus far the English is +my best race; but we have had Englishmen enough; now for another turning +of the globe, and a step farther. We need something with a little more +buoyancy than the Englishman; let us lighten the ship, even at the risk +of a little peril in the process. Put in one drop more of nervous fluid +and make the American." With that drop, a new range of promise opened on +the human race, and a lighter, finer, more highly organized type of +mankind was born. But the promise must be fulfilled through unequalled +dangers. With the new drop came new intoxication, new ardors, passions, +ambitions, hopes, reactions, and despairs,--more daring, more invention, +more disease, more insanity,--forgetfulness, at first, of the old, +wholesome traditions of living, recklessness of sin and saleratus, loss +of refreshing sleep and of the power of play. To surmount all this, we +have got to fight the good fight, I assure you, Dolorosus. Nature is yet +pledged to produce that finer type, and if we miss it, she will leave us +to decay, like our predecessors,--whirl the globe over once more, and +choose a new place for a new experiment. + + + + +MY DOUBLE; AND HOW HE UNDID ME. + + +It is not often that I trouble the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly." I +should not trouble them now, but for the importunities of my wife, who +"feels to insist" that a duty to society is unfulfilled, till I have +told why I had to have a double, and how he undid me. She is sure, she +says, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure upon +public servants which alone drives any man into the employment of a +double. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that my +fortunes will never be remade, she has a faint hope, that, as another +Rasselas, I may teach a lesson to future publics, from which they may +profit, though we die. Owing to the behaviour of my double, or, if you +please, to that public pressure which compelled me to employ him, I have +plenty of leisure to write this communication. + +I am, or rather was, a minister, of the Sandemanian connection. I was +settled in the active, wide-awake town of Naguadavick, on one of the +finest water-powers in Maine. We used to call it a Western town in the +heart of the civilization of New England. A charming place it was and +is. A spirited, brave young parish had I; and it seemed as if we might +have all "the joy of eventful living" to our hearts' content. + +Alas! how little we knew on the day of my ordination, and in those +halcyon moments of our first housekeeping! To be the confidential friend +in a hundred families in the town,--cutting the social trifle, as my +friend Haliburton says, "from the top of the whipped-syllabub to the +bottom of the sponge-cake, which is the foundation,"--to keep abreast of +the thought of the age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sunday to +interweave that thought with the active life of an active town, and to +inspirit both and make both infinite by glimpses of the Eternal Glory, +seemed such an exquisite forelock into one's life! Enough to do, and all +so real and so grand! If this vision could only have lasted! + +The truth is, that this vision was not in itself a delusion, nor, +indeed, half bright enough. If one could only have been left to do his +own business, the vision would have accomplished itself and brought out +new paraheliacal visions, each as bright as the original. The misery was +and is, as we found out, I and Polly, before long, that, besides the +vision, and besides the usual human and finite failures in life, (such +as breaking the old pitcher that came over in the "Mayflower," and +putting into the fire the Alpenstock with which her father climbed Mont +Blanc,)--besides these, I say, (imitating the style of Robinson Crusoe,) +there were pitch-forked in on us a great rowen-heap of humbugs, banded +down from some unknown seed-time, in which we were expected, and I +chiefly, to fulfil certain public functions before the community, of the +character of those fulfilled by the third row of supernumeraries who +stand behind the Sepoys in the spectacle of the "Cataract of the +Ganges." They were the duties, in a word, which one performs as member +of one or another social class or subdivision, wholly distinct from what +one does as A. by himself A. What invisible power put these functions on +me, it would be very hard to tell. But such power there was and is. And +I had not been at work a year before I found I was living two lives, one +real and one merely functional,--for two sets of people, one my parish, +whom I loved, and the other a vague public, for whom I did not care two +straws. All this was in a vague notion, which everybody had and has, +that this second life would eventually bring out some great results, +unknown at present, to somebody somewhere. + +Crazed by this duality of life, I first read Dr. Wigan on the "Duality +of the Brain," hoping that I could train one side of my head to do these +outside jobs, and the other to do my intimate and real duties. For +Richard Greenough once told me, that, in studying for the statue of +Franklin, he found that the left side of the great man's face was +philosophic and reflective, and the right side funny and smiling. If you +will go and look at the bronze statue, you will find he has repeated +this observation there for posterity. The eastern profile is the +portrait of the statesman Franklin, the western of Poor Richard. But Dr. +Wigan does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I failed. It +was then, that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look out for a +Double. + +I was, at first, singularly successful. We happened to be recreating at +Stafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day, for one of the +relaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monsonpon House. We +were passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny was +fulfilled! I saw my man! + +He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green +baize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But I +saw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He had +black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He stooped in +walking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine. And--choicest gift of +Fate in all--he had, not "a strawberry-mark on his left arm," but a cut +from a juvenile brickbat over his right eye, slightly affecting the play +of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I!--My fate was sealed! + +A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole thing. +It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow, of the +class known as shiftless, who had scaled his fate by marrying a dumb +wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I left +Stafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to Judge +Pynchon, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the name of +Dennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. We had explained to the Judge, what was +the precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman wished to adopt Dennis +under this new name into his family. It never occurred to him that +Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to shorten this +preface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at Naguadavick, there +entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress, myself, who am Mr. Frederic +Ingham, and my double, who was Mr. Frederic Ingham by as good right as +I. + +Oh, the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my pattern, +cutting his hair to match mine, and teaching him how to wear and how to +take off gold-bowed spectacles! Really, they were electro-plate, and the +glass was plain (for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent). Then in +four successive afternoons I taught, him four speeches. I had found +these would be quite enough for the supernumerary-Sepoy line of life, +and it was well for me they were. For though he was good-natured, he was +very shiftless, and it was, as our national proverb says, "like pulling +teeth" to teach him. But at the end of the next week he could say, with +quite my easy and frisky air,-- + +1. "Very well, thank you. And you?" This for an answer to casual +salutations. + +2. "I am very glad you liked it." + +3. "There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time." + +4. "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of the room." + +At first I had a feeling that I was going to be at great cost for +clothing him. But it proved, of course, at once, that, whenever he was +out, I should be at home. And I went, during the bright period of his +success, to so few of those awful pageants which require a black +dress-coat and what the ungodly call, after Mr. Dickens, a white choker, +that in the happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and jackets my days +went by as happily and cheaply as those of another Thalaba. And Polly +declares there was never a year when the tailoring cost so little. He +lived (Dennis, not Thalaba) in his wife's room over the kitchen. He had +orders never to show himself at that window. When he appeared in the +front of the house, I retired to my sanctissimum and my dressing-gown. +In short, the Dutchman and his wife, in the old weather-box, had not +less to do with each other than he and I. He made the furnace-fire and +split the wood before daylight; then he went to sleep again, and slept +late; then came for orders, with a red silk bandanna tied round his +head, with his overalls on, and his dress-coat and spectacles off. If we +happened to be interrupted, no one guessed that he was Frederic Ingham +as well as I; and, in the neighborhood, there grew up an impression that +the minister's Irishman worked day-times in the factory-village at New +Coventry. After I had given him his orders, I never saw him till the +next day. + +I launched him by sending him to a meeting of the Enlightenment Board. +The Enlightenment Board consists of seventy-four members, of whom +sixty-seven are necessary to form a quorum. One becomes a member under +the regulations laid down in old Judge Dudley's will. I became one by +being ordained pastor of a church in Naguadavick. You see you cannot +help yourself, if you would. At this particular time we had had four +successive meetings, averaging four hours each,--wholly occupied in +whipping in a quorum. At the first only eleven men were present; at the +next, by force of three circulars, twenty-seven; at the third, thanks to +two days canvassing by Auchmuty and myself, begging men to come, we had +sixty. Half the others were In Europe. But without a quorum we could do +nothing. All the rest of us waited grimly for our four hours, and +adjourned without any action. At the fourth meeting we had flagged, and +only got fifty-nine together. But on the first appearance of my +double,--whom I sent on this fatal Monday to the fifth meeting,--he was +the sixty-seventh man who entered the room. He was greeted with a storm +of applause! The poor fellow had missed his way,--read the street signs +ill though his spectacles, (very ill, in fact, without them,)--and had +not dared to inquire. He entered the room,--finding the president and +secretary holding to their chairs two judges of the Supreme Court, who +were also members _ex officio_, and were begging leave to go away. On +his entrance all was changed. _Presto_, the by-laws were amended, and +the Western property was given away. Nobody stopped to converse with +him. He voted, as I had charged him to do, in every instance, with the +minority. I won new laurels as a man of sense, though a little +unpunctual,--and Dennis, _alias_ Ingham, returned to the parsonage, +astonished to see with how little wisdom the world is governed. He cut a +few of my parishioners in the street; but he had his glasses off, and I +am known to be near-sighted. Eventually he recognized them more readily +than I. + +I "set him again" at the exhibition of the New Coventry Academy; and +here he undertook a "speaking part,"--as, in my boyish, worldly days, I +remember the bills used to say of Mlle. Céleste. We are all trustees of +the New Coventry Academy; and there has lately been "a good deal of +feeling" because the Sandemanian trustees did not regularly attend the +exhibitions. It has been intimated, indeed, that the Sandemanians are +leaning towards Free-Will, and that we have, therefore, neglected these +semi-annual exhibitions, while there is no doubt that Auchmuty last year +went to Commencement at Waterville. Now the head master at New Coventry +is a real good fellow, who knows a Sanskrit root when he sees it, and +often cracks etymologies with me,--so that, in strictness, I ought to go +to their exhibitions. But think, reader, of sitting through three long +July days in that Academy chapel, following the programme from + + TUESDAY MORNING. _English Composition_. + "SUNSHINE." Miss Jones. + +round to + + Trio on Three Pianos. Duel from the Opera + of "Midshipman Easy." _Marryatt_. + +coming in at nine, Thursday evening! Think of this, reader, for men who +know the world is trying to go backward, and who would give their lives +if they could help it on! Well! The double had succeeded so well at the +Board, that I sent him to the Academy. (Shade of Plato, pardon!) He +arrived early on Tuesday, when, indeed, few but mothers and clergymen +are generally expected, and returned in the evening to us, covered with +honors. He had dined at the right hand of the chairman, and he spoke in +high terms of the repast. The chairman had expressed his interest in the +French conversation. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis; and the +poor chairman, abashed, supposed the accent had been wrong. At the end +of the day, the gentlemen present had been called upon for +speeches,--the Rev. Frederic Ingham first, as it happened; upon which +Dennis had risen, and had said, "There has been so much said, and, on +the whole, so well said, that I will not occupy the time." The girls +were delighted, because Dr. Dabney, the year before, had given them at +this occasion a scolding on impropriety of behavior at lyceum lectures. +They all declared Mr. Ingham was a love,--and _so_ handsome! (Dennis is +good-looking.) Three of them, with arms behind the others' waists, +followed him up to the wagon he rode home in; and a little girl with a +blue sash had been sent to give him a rosebud. After this _début_ in +speaking, he went to the exhibition for two days more, to the mutual +satisfaction of all concerned. Indeed, Polly reported that he had +pronounced the trustees' dinners of a higher grade than those of the +parsonage. When the next term began, I found six of the Academy girls +had obtained permission to come across the river and attend our church. +But this arrangement did not long continue. + +After this he went to several Commencements for me, and ate the dinners +provided; he sat through three of our Quarterly Conventions for +me,--always voting judiciously, by the simple rule mentioned above, of +siding with the minority. And I, meanwhile, who had before been losing +caste among my friends, as holding myself aloof from the associations of +the body, began to rise in everybody's favor. "Ingham's a good +fellow,--always on hand"; "never talks much,--but does the right thing +at the right time"; "is not as unpunctual as he used to be,--he comes +early, and sits through to the end." "He has got over his old talkative +habit, too. I spoke to a friend of his about it once; and I think Ingham +took it kindly," etc., etc. + +This voting power of Dennis was particularly valuable at the quarterly +meetings of the Proprietors of the Naguadavick Ferry. My wife inherited +from her father some shares in that enterprise, which is not yet fully +developed, though it doubtless will become a very valuable property. The +law of Maine then forbade stockholders to appear by proxy at such +meetings. Polly disliked to go, not being, in fact, a "hens'-rights +hen," and transferred her stock to me. I, after going once, disliked it +more than she. But Dennis went to the next meeting, and liked it very +much. He said the armchairs were good, the collation good, and the free +rides to stockholders pleasant. He was a little frightened when they +first took him upon one of the ferry-boats, but after two or three +quarterly meetings he became quite brave. + +Thus far I never had any difficulty with him. Indeed, being of that type +which is called shiftless, he was only too happy to be told daily what +to do, and to be charged not to be forthputting or in any way original +in his discharge of that duty. He learned, however, to discriminate +between the lines of his life, and very much preferred these +stockholders' meetings and trustees' dinners and Commencement collations +to another set of occasions, from which he used to beg off most +piteously. Our excellent brother, Dr. Fillmore, had taken a notion at +this time that our Sandemanian churches needed more expression of mutual +sympathy. He insisted upon it that we were remiss. He said, that, if the +Bishop came to preach at Naguadavick, all the Episcopal clergy of the +neighborhood were present; if Dr. Pond came, all the Congregational +clergymen turned out to hear him; if Dr. Nichols, all the Unitarians; +and he thought we owed it to each other, that, whenever there was an +occasional service at a Sandemanian church, the other brethren should +all, if possible, attend. "It looked well," if nothing more. Now this +really meant that I had not been to hear one of Dr. Fillmore's lectures +on the Ethnology of Religion. He forgot that he did not hear one of my +course on the "Sandemanianism of Anselm." But I felt badly when he said +it; and afterwards I always made Dennis go to hear all the brethren +preach, when I was not preaching myself. This was what he took +exceptions to,--the only thing, as I said, which he ever did except to. +Now came the advantage of his long morning-nap, and of the green tea +with which Polly supplied the kitchen. But he would plead, so humbly, to +be let off, only from one or two! I never excepted him, however. I knew +the lectures were of value, and I thought it best he should be able to +keep the connection. + +Polly is more rash than I am, as the reader has observed in the outset +of this memoir. She risked Dennis one night under the eyes of her own +sex. Governor Gorges had always been very kind to us; and when he gave +his great annual party to the town, asked us. I confess I hated to go. I +was deep in the new volume of Pfeiffer's "Mystics," which Haliburton had +just sent me from Boston. "But how rude," said Polly, "not to return the +Governor's civility and Mrs. Gorges's, when they will be sure to ask why +you are away!" Still I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eve +and of Semiramis conjoined, let me off by saying, that, if I would go in +with her, and sustain the initial conversations with the Governor and +the ladies staying there, she would risk Dennis for the rest of the +evening. And that was just what we did. She took Dennis in training all +that afternoon, instructed him in fashionable conversation, cautioned +him against the temptations of the supper-table,--and at nine in the +evening he drove us all down in the carryall. I made the grand +star-_entrée_ with Polly and the pretty Walton girls, who were staying +with us. We had put Dennis into a great rough top-coat, without his +glasses,--and the girls never dreamed, in the darkness, of looking at +him. He sat in the carriage, at the door, while we entered. I did the +agreeable to Mrs. Gorges, was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda,--I +complimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in the great case of +D'Aulnay _vs_. Laconia Mining Co.,--I stepped into the dressing-room for +a moment,--stepped out for another,--walked home, after a nod with +Dennis, and tying the horse to a pump;--and while I walked home, Mr. +Frederic Ingham, my double, stepped in through the library into the +Gorges's grand saloon. + +Oh! Polly died of laughing as she told me of it at midnight! And even +here, where I have to teach my hands to hew the beech for stakes to +fence our cave, she dies of laughing as she recalls it,--and says that +single occasion was worth all we have paid for it. Gallant Eve that she +is! She joined Dennis at the library-door, and in an instant presented +him to Dr. Ochterlong, from Baltimore, who was on a visit in town, and +was talking with her, as Dennis came in. "Mr. Ingham would like to hear +what you were telling us about your success among the German +population." And Dennis bowed and said, in spite of a scowl from Polly, +"I'm very glad you liked it." But Dr. Ochterlong did not observe, and +plunged into the tide of explanation, Dennis listening like a +prime-minister, and bowing like a mandarin,--which is, I suppose, the +same thing. Polly declared it was just like Haliburton's Latin +conversation with the Hungarian minister, of which he is very fond of +telling. "_Quæne sit historia Reformationis in Ungariâ_?" quoth +Haliburton, after some thought. And his _confrère_ replied gallantly, +"_In seculo decimo tertio_," etc., etc., etc.; and from _decimo +tertio_[8] to the nineteenth century and a half lasted till the oysters +came. So was it that before Dr. Ochterlong came to the "success," or +near it, Governor Gorges came to Dennis and asked him to hand Mrs. +Jeffries down to supper, a request which he heard with great joy. + +Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, gay as a lark. Auchmuty came +to her "in pity for poor Ingham," who was so bored by the stupid +pundit,--and Auchmuty could not understand why I stood it so long. But +when Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could not resist standing +near them. He was a little flustered, till the sight of the eatables and +drinkables gave him the same Mercian courage which it gave Diggory. A +little excited then, he attempted one or two of his speeches to the +Judge's lady. But little he knew how hard it was to get in even a +_promptu_ there edgewise. "Very well, I thank you," said he, after the +eating elements were adjusted; "and you?" And then did not he have to +hear about the mumps, and the measles, and arnica, and belladonna, and +chamomile-flower, and dodecathem, till she changed oysters for +salad,--and then about the old practice and the new, and what her sister +said, and what her sister's friend said, and what the physician to her +sister's friend said, and then what was said by the brother of the +sister of the physician of the friend of her sister, exactly as if it +had been in Ollendorff? There was a moment's pause, as she declined +Champagne. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis again, which he +never should have said, but to one who complimented a sermon. "Oh! you +are so sharp, Mr. Ingham! No! I never drink any wine at all,--except +sometimes in summer a little currant spirits,--from our own currants, +you know. My own mother,--that is, I call her my own mother, because, +you know, I do not remember," etc., etc., etc.; till they came to the +candied orange at the end of the feast,--when Dennis, rather confused, +thought he must say something, and tried No. 4,--"I agree, in general, +with my friend the other side of the room,"--which he never should have +said but at a public meeting. But Mrs. Jeffries, who never listens +expecting to understand, caught him up instantly with, "Well, I'm sure +my husband returns the compliment; he always agrees with you,--though we +do worship with the Methodists;--but you know, Mr. Ingham," etc., etc., +etc., till the move was made up-stairs;--and as Dennis led her through +the hall, he was scarcely understood by any but Polly, as he said, +"There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time." + +His great resource the rest of the evening was, standing in the library, +carrying on animated conversations with one and another in much the same +way. Polly had initiated him in the mysteries of a discovery of mine, +that it is not necessary to finish your sentences in a crowd, but by a +sort of mumble, omitting sibilants and dentals. This, indeed, if your +words fail you, answers even in public extempore speech,--but better +where other talking is going on. Thus,--"We missed you at the Natural +History Society, Ingham." Ingham replies,--"I am very gligloglum, that +is, that you were mmmmm." By gradually dropping the voice, the +interlocutor is compelled to supply the answer. "Mrs. Ingham, I hope +your friend Augusta is better." Augusta has not been ill. Polly cannot +think of explaining, however, and answers,--"Thank you, Ma'am; she is +very rearason wewahwewoh," in lower and lower tones. And Mrs. +Throckmorton, who forgot the subject of which she spoke, as soon as she +asked the question, is quite satisfied. Dennis could see into the +card-room, and came to Polly to ask if he might not go and play +all-fours. But, of course, she sternly refused. At midnight they came +home delighted,--Polly, as I said, wild to tell me the story of victory; +only both the pretty Walton girls said,--"Cousin Frederic, you did not +come near me all the evening." + +We always called him Dennis at home, for convenience, though his real +name was Frederic Ingham, as I have explained. When the election-day +came round, however, I found that by some accident there was only one +Frederic Ingham's name on the voting-list; and, as I was quite busy that +day in writing some foreign letters to Halle, I thought I would forego +my privilege of suffrage, and stay quietly at home, telling Dennis that +he might use the record on the voting-list and vote. I gave him a +ticket, which I told him he might use, if he liked to. That was that +very sharp election in Maine which the readers of the "Atlantic" so well +remember, and it had been intimated in public that the ministers would +do well not to appear at the polls. Of course, after that, we had to +appear by self or proxy. Still, Naguadavick was not then a city, and +this standing in a double queue at town-meeting several hours to vote +was a bore of the first water; and so, when I found that there was but +one Frederic Ingham on the list, and that one of us must give up, I +staid at home and finished the letters, (which, indeed, procured for +Fothergill his coveted appointment of Professor of Astronomy at +Leavenworth,) and I gave Dennis, as we called him, the chance. Something +in the matter gave a good deal of popularity to the Frederic Ingham +name; and at the adjourned election, next week, Frederic Ingham was +chosen to the legislature. Whether this was I or Dennis, I never really +knew. My friends seemed to think it was I; but I felt, that, as Dennis +had done the popular thing, he was entitled to the honor; so I sent him +to Augusta when the time came, and he took the oaths. And a very +valuable member he made. They appointed him on the Committee on +Parishes; but I wrote a letter for him, resigning, on the ground that he +took an interest in our claim to the stumpage in the minister's +sixteenths of Gore A, next No. 7, in the 10th Range. He never made any +speeches, and always voted with the minority, which was what he was sent +to do. He made me and himself a great many good friends, some of whom I +did not afterwards recognize as quickly as Dennis did my parishioners. +On one or two occasions, when there was wood to saw at home, I kept him +at home; but I took those occasions to go to Augusta myself. Finding +myself often in his vacant seat at these times, I watched the +proceedings with a good deal of care; and once was so much excited that +I delivered my somewhat celebrated speech on the Central School-District +question, a speech of which the "State of Maine" printed some extra +copies. I believe there is no formal rule permitting strangers to speak; +but no one objected. + +Dennis himself, as I said, never spoke at all. But our experience this +session led me to think, that, if, by some such "general understanding" +as the reports speak of in legislation daily, every member of Congress +might leave a double to sit through those deadly sessions and answer to +roll-calls and do the legitimate party-voting, which appears stereotyped +in the regular list of Ashe, Bocock, Black, etc., we should gain +decidedly in working-power. As things stand, the saddest State prison I +ever visit is that Representatives' Chamber in Washington. If a man +leaves for an hour, twenty "correspondents" may be howling, "Where was +Mr. Pendergrast when the Oregon bill passed?" And if poor Pendergrast +stays there! Certainly, the worst use you can make of a man is to put +him in prison! + +I know, indeed, that public men of the highest rank have resorted to +this expedient long ago. Dumas's novel of the "Iron Mask" turns on the +brutal imprisonment of Louis the Fourteenth's double. There seems little +doubt, in our own history, that it was the real General Pierce who shed +tears when the delegate from Lawrence explained to him the sufferings of +the people there,--and only General Pierce's double who had given the +orders for the assault on that town, which was invaded the next day. My +charming friend, George Withers, has, I am almost sure, a double, who +preaches his afternoon sermons for him. This is the reason that the +theology often varies so from that of the forenoon. But that double is +almost as charming as the original. Some of the most well-defined men, +who stand out most prominently on the background of history, are in this +way stereoscopic men, who owe their distinct relief to the slight +differences between the doubles. All this I know. My present suggestion +is simply the great extension of the system, so that all public +machine-work may be done by it. + +But I see I loiter on my story, which is rushing to the plunge. Let me +stop an instant more, however, to recall, were it only to myself, that +charming year while all was yet well. After the double had become a +matter of course, for nearly twelve months before he undid me, what a +year it was! Full of active life, full of happy love, of the hardest +work, of the sweetest sleep, and the fulfilment of so many of the fresh +aspirations and dreams of boyhood! Dennis went to every school-committee +meeting, and sat through all those late wranglings which used to keep me +up till midnight and awake till morning. He attended all the lectures to +which foreign exiles sent me tickets begging me to come for the love of +Heaven and of Bohemia. He accepted and used all the tickets for charity +concerts which were sent to me. He appeared everywhere where it was +specially desirable that "our denomination," or "our party," or "our +class," or "our family," or "our street," or "our town," or "our +county," or "our State," should be fully represented. And I fell back to +that charming life which in boyhood one dreams of, when he supposes he +shall do his own duty and make his own sacrifices, without being tied up +with those of other people. My rusty Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, +Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, German, and English began to take +polish. Heavens! how little I had done with them while I attended to my +_public_ duties! My calls on my parishioners became the friendly, +frequent, homelike sociabilities they were meant to be, instead of the +hard work of a man goaded to desperation by the sight of his lists of +arrears. And preaching! what a luxury preaching was when I had on +Sunday the whole result of an individual, personal week, from which to +speak to a people whom all that week I had been meeting as hand-to-hand +friend! I never tired on Sunday, and was in condition to leave the +sermon at home, if I chose, and preach it extempore, as all men should +do always. Indeed, I wonder, when I think that a sensible people, like +ours,--really more attached to their clergy than they were in the lost +days, when the Mathers and Nortons were noblemen,--should choose to +neutralize so much of their ministers' lives, and destroy so much of +their early training, by this undefined passion for seeing them in +public. It springs from our balancing of sects. If a spirited +Episcopalian takes an interest in the alms-house, and is put on the Poor +Board, every other denomination must have a minister there, lest the +poor-house be changed into St. Paul's Cathedral. If a Sandemanian is +chosen president of the Young Men's Library, there must be a Methodist +vice-president and a Baptist secretary. And if a Universalist +Sunday-School Convention collects five hundred delegates, the next +Congregationalist Sabbath-School Conference must be as large, "lest +'they'--whoever _they_ may be--should think 'we'--whoever _we_ may +be--are going down." + +Freed from these necessities, that happy year, I began to know my wife +by sight. We saw each other sometimes. In those long mornings, when +Dennis was in the study explaining to map-peddlers that I had eleven +maps of Jerusalem already, and to school-book agents that I would see +them hanged before I would be bribed to introduce their textbooks into +the schools,--she and I were at work together, as in those old dreamy +days,--and in these of our log-cabin again. But all this could not +last,--and at length poor Dennis, my double, over-tasked in turn, undid +me. + +It was thus it happened.--There is an excellent fellow,--once a +minister,--I will call him Isaacs,--who deserves well of the world till +he dies, and after,--because he once, in, a real exigency, did the right +thing, in the right way, at the right time, as no other man could do it. +In the world's great football match, the ball by chance found him +loitering on the outside of the field; he closed with it, "camped" it, +charged it home,--yes, right through the other side,--not disturbed, not +frightened by his own success,--and breathless found himself a great +man,--as the Great Delta rang applause. But he did not find himself a +rich man; and the football has never come in his way again. From that +moment to this moment he has been of no use, that one can see, at all. +Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember him +kindly; and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewhere again. +In that vague hope, he had arranged a "movement" for a general +organization of the human family into Debating-Clubs, County Societies, +State Unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all children to take +hold of the handles of their knives and forks, instead of the metal. +Children have bad habits in that way. The movement, of course, was +absurd; but we all did our best to forward, not it, but him. It came +time for the annual county-meeting on this subject to be held at +Naguadavick. Isaacs came round, good fellow! to arrange for it,--got the +town-hall, got the Governor to preside, (the saint!--he ought to have +triplet doubles provided him by law,) and then came to get me to speak. +"No," I said, "I would not speak, if ten Governors presided. I do not +believe in the enterprise. If I spoke, it should be to say children +should take hold of the prongs of the forks and the blades of the +knives. I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill." So +poor Isaacs went his way, sadly, to coax Auchmuty to speak, and +Delafield. I went out. Not long after, he came back, and told Polly that +they had promised to speak,--the Governor would speak,--and he himself +would close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotes +regarding Miss Biffin's way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis's way +of footing his fork. "Now if Mr. Ingham will only come and sit on the +platform, he need not say one word; but it will show well in the +paper,--it will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in the +movement as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians, and will be a great +favor to me." Polly, good soul! was tempted, and she promised. She knew +Mrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies,--she knew Dennis was at +home,--and she promised! Night came, and I returned. I heard her story. +I was sorry. I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, and I dared +all! I told Dennis to hold his peace, under all circumstances, and sent +him down. + +It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild with +excitement,--in a perfect Irish fury,--which it was long before I +understood. But I knew at once that he had undone me! + +What happened was this.--The audience got together, attracted by +Governor Gorges's name. There were a thousand people. Poor Gorges was +late from Augusta. They became impatient. He came in direct from the +train at last, really ignorant of the object of the meeting. He opened +it in the fewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present +who would entertain them better than he. The audience were disappointed, +but waited. The Governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, "The Honorable Mr. +Delafield will address you." Delafield had forgotten the knives and +forks, and was playing the Ruy Lopez opening at the chess-club. "The +Rev. Mr. Auchmuty will address you." Auchmuty had promised to speak +late, and was at the school-committee. "I see Dr. Stearns in the hall; +perhaps he will say a word." Dr. Stearns said he had come to listen and +not to speak. The Governor and Isaacs whispered. The Governor looked at +Dennis, who was resplendent on the platform; but Isaacs, to give him his +due, shook his head. But the look was enough. A miserable lad, ill-bred, +who had once been in Boston, thought it would sound well to call for me, +and peeped out, "Ingham!" A few more wretches cried, "Ingham! Ingham!" +Still Isaacs was firm; but the Governor, anxious, indeed, to prevent a +row, knew I would say something, and said, "Our friend Mr. Ingham is +always prepared,--and though we had not relied upon him, he will say a +word, perhaps." Applause followed, which turned Dennis's head. He rose, +fluttered, and tried No. 3: "There has been so much said, and, on the +whole, so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!" and sat +down, looking for his hat; for things seemed squally. But the people +cried, "Go on! go on!" and some applauded. Dennis, still confused, but +flattered by the applause, to which neither he nor I are used, rose +again, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you liked it!" in a +sonorous, clear delivery. My best friends stared. All the people who did +not know me personally yelled with delight at the aspect of the evening; +the Governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs thought he was undone! +Alas, it was I! A boy in the gallery cried in a loud tone, "It's all an +infernal humbug," just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, +and tried No. 4: "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of +the room." The poor Governor doubted his senses, and crossed to stop +him,--not in time, however. The same gallery-boy shouted, "How's your +mother?"--and Dennis, now completely lost, tried, as his last shot, No. +1, vainly: "Very well, thank you; and you?" + +I think I must have been undone already. But Dennis, like another +Lockhard, chose "to make sicker." The audience rose in a whirl of +amazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other impertinence, aimed at Dennis, +broke all restraint, and, in pure Irish, he delivered himself of an +address to the gallery, inviting any person who wished to fight to come +down and do so,--stating, that they were all dogs and cowards and the +sons of dogs and cowards,--that he would take any five of them +single-handed. "Shure, I have said all his Riverence and the Misthress +bade me say," cried he, in defiance; and, seizing the Governor's cane +from his hand, brandished it, quarterstaff fashion, above his head. He +was, indeed, got from the hall only with the greatest difficulty by the +Governor, the City Marshal, who had been called in, and the +Superintendent of my Sunday-School. + +The universal impression, of course, was, that the Rev. Frederic Ingham +had lost all command of himself in some of those haunts of intoxication +which for fifteen years I have been laboring to destroy. Till this +moment, indeed, that is the impression in Naguadavick. This number of +the "Atlantic" will relieve from it a hundred friends of mine who have +been sadly wounded by that notion now for years;--but I shall not be +likely ever to show my head there again. + +No! My double has undone me. + +We left town at seven the next morning. I came to No. 9, in the Third +Range, and settled on the Minister's Lot. In the new towns in Maine, the +first settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land. I am the +first settled minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina are my +parish. We raise corn enough to live on in summer. We kill bear's meat +enough to carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on my "Traces of +Sandemanianism in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries," which I hope to +persuade Phillips, Sampson, & Co. to publish next year. We are very +happy, but the world thinks we are undone. + + +[8] Which means, "In the thirteenth century," my dear little +bell-and-coral reader. You have rightly guessed that the question means, +"What is the history of the Reformation in Hungary?" + + + + +THE SINGER. + + +A star into our twilight fell, + 'Mong peasant homes in vales remote; +Men marvelled not till all the dell + Was waked as by a bugle-note. + +They wondered at the wild-eyed boy, + And drank his song like draughts of wine; +And yet, amid their new-born joy, + They bade him tend the herds and swine. + +But he knew neither swine nor herds,-- + His shepherd soul was otherwhere; +The flocks he tended were the birds, + And stars that fill the folds of air. + +To sweeter song the wind would melt + That fanned him with its perfumed wing; +Flowers thronged his path as if they felt + The warm and flashing feet of Spring. + +The brooklet flung its ringlets wide, + And leapt to him, and kept his pace,-- +Sang when he sang, and when he sighed, + Turned up to him its starry face. + +Through many a dawn and noon and night, + The singing boy still kept his course; +For in his heart that meteor light + Still burned with all its natal force. + +He sang,--nor cherished thought of care,-- + As when, upon the garden-vine, +A blue-bird thrills the April air, + Regardless of the herds and swine. + +The children in their May-time plays, + The maidens in their rosy hours, +And matrons in their autumn days, + All heard and flung him praise or flowers. + +And Age, to chimney-nooks beguiled, + Caught the sweet music's tender closes, +And, gazing on the embers, smiled + As on a bed of summer roses. + +And many a heart, by hope forsook, + Received his song through depths of pain, +As the dry channels of a brook + The freshness of a summer rain. + +But when he looked for house or bread, + The stewards of earth's oil and wine +Shook sternly the reproving head, + And bade him tend the herds and swine! + +He strayed into the harvest plains, + And 'mid the sultry windrows sung, +Till glowing girls and swarthy swains + Caught music from his charmed tongue,-- + +Caught music that from heart to brain + Went thrilling with delicious measure, +Till toil, which late had seemed a pain, + Became a sweet Arcadian pleasure. + +The farmer, at the day's decline, + Sat listening till the eve was late; +Then, offering neither bread nor wine, + Arose, and barred the outer gate,-- + +And said, "Would you have where to sleep + On wholesome straw, good brother mine, +You need but plow, and sow, and reap, + And daily tend the herds and swine." + +The poet's locks shook out reply; + He turned him gayly down the rill; +Yet left a light which shall not die, + A sunshine on the farmer's sill. + +He strewed the vale with flowers of song; + He filled the homes with lighter grace, +Which round those hearth-stones lingered long, + And still makes beautiful the place. + +The country, hamlet, and the town + Grew wiser, better, for his songs;-- +The roaring city could not drown + The voice that to the world belongs. + +To beds of pain, to rooms of death, + The soft and solemn music stole, +And soothed the dying with its breath, + And passed into the mourner's soul. + +And yet what was the poet's meed? + Such, Bard of Alloway, was thine! +The soul that sings, the heart must bleed, + Or tend the common herds and swine. + +The nation heard his patriot lays, + And rung them, like an anthem, round, +Till Freedom waved her branch of bays, + Wherewith the world shall yet be crowned. + +His war-songs fired the battle-host, + His mottoes on their banners burned; +And when the foe had fled the coast, + Wild with his songs the troops returned. + +Then at the feast's triumphal board, + His thrilling music cheered the wine;-- +But when the singer asked reward, + They pointed to the herds and swine. + +"What! he a bard? Then bid him go + And beg,--it is the poet's trade! +Dan Homer was the first to show + The rank for which the bards were made! + +"A living bard! What's he to us? + A bard, to live, must first be dead! +And when he dies, we may discuss + To whom belongs the poet's head!" + +'Neath suns that burn, through storms that drench, + He went, an outcast from his birth, +Still singing,--for they could not quench + The fire that was not born of earth. + +At last, behind cold prison-bars, + By colder natures unforgiven, +His frail dust starved! but 'mid the stars + His spirit found its native heaven. + +Now, when a meteor-spark, forlorn, + Descends upon its fiery wing, +I sigh to think a soul is born, + Perchance, to suffer and to sing:-- + +Its own heart a consuming pyre + Of flame, to brighten and refine:-- +A singer, in the starry choir, + That will not tend the herds and swine. + + + + +THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +WHAT HE SAID, WHAT HE HEARD, AND WHAT HE SAW. + + +One of our boarders--perhaps more than one was concerned in it--sent in +some questions to me, the other day, which, trivial as some of them are, +I felt bound to answer. + +1.--Whether a lady was ever known to write a letter covering only a +single page? + +To this I answered, that there was a case on record where a lady had but +half a sheet of paper and no envelope; and being obliged to send through +the post-office, she _covered_ only one side of the paper (crosswise, +lengthwise, and diagonally). + +2.--What constitutes a man a gentleman? + +To this I gave several answers, adapted to particular classes of +questions. + +a. Not trying to be a gentleman. + +b. Self-respect underlying courtesy. + +c. Knowledge and observance of the _fitness of things_ in social +intercourse. + +d. £. _s.d._ (as many suppose.) + +3.--Whether face or figure is most attractive in the female sex? + +Answered in the following epigram, by a young man about town:-- + + Quoth Tom, "Though fair her features be, + it is her figure pleases me." + "What may her figure be?" I cried. + "_One hundred thousand_!" he replied. + +When this was read to the boarders, the young man John said he should +like a chance to "step up" to a figger of that kind, if the girl was one +of the right sort. + +The landlady said them that merried for money didn't deserve the +blessin' of a good wife. Money was a great thing when them that had it +made a good use of it. She had seen better days herself, and knew what +it was never to want for anything. One of her cousins merried a very +rich old gentleman, and she had heerd that he said he lived ten year +longer than if he'd staid by himself without anybody to take care of +him. There was nothin' like a wife for nussin' sick folks and them that +couldn't take care of themselves. + +The young man John got off a little wink, and pointed slyly with his +thumb in the direction of our diminutive friend, for whom he seemed to +think this speech was intended. + +If it was meant for him, he didn't appear to know that it was. Indeed, +he seems somewhat listless of late, except when the conversation falls +upon one of those larger topics that specially interest him, and then he +grows excited, speaks loud and fast, sometimes almost savagely,--and, I +have noticed once or twice, presses his left hand to his right side, as +if there were something that ached, or weighed, or throbbed in that +region. + +While he speaks in this way, the general conversation is interrupted, +and we all listen to him. Iris looks steadily in his face, and then he +will turn as if magnetized and meet the amber eyes with his own +melancholy gaze. I do believe that they have some kind of understanding +together, that they meet elsewhere than at our table, and that there is +a mystery, which is going to break upon us all of a sudden, involving +the relations of these two persons. From the very first, they have taken +to each other. The one thing they have in common is the heroic will. In +him, it shows itself in thinking his way straightforward, in doing +battle for "free trade and no right of search" on the high seas of +religious controversy, and especially in fighting the battles of his +crooked old city. In her, it is standing up for her little friend with +the most queenly disregard of the code of boarding-house etiquette. +People may say or look what they like,--she will have her way about this +sentiment of hers. + +The poor relation is in a dreadful fidget whenever the little gentleman +says anything that interferes with her own infallibility. She seems to +think Faith must go with her face tied up, as if she had the +toothache,--and that if she opens her mouth to the quarter the wind +blows from, she will catch her "death o' cold." + +The landlady herself came to him one day, as I have found out, and tried +to persuade him to hold his tongue.--The boarders was gettin' +uneasy,--she said,--and some of 'em would go, she mistrusted, if he +talked any more about things that belonged to the ministers to settle. +She was a poor woman, that had known better days, but all her livin' +depended on her boarders, and she was sure there wasn't any of 'em she +set so much by as she did by him; but there was them that never liked to +hear about such things, except on Sundays. + +The little gentleman looked very smiling at the landlady, who smiled +even more cordially in return, and adjusted her cap-ribbon with an +unconscious movement,--a reminiscence of the long-past pairing-time, +when she had smoothed her locks and softened her voice, and won her mate +by these and other bird-like graces.--My dear Madam,--he said,--I will +remember your interests, and speak only of matters to which I am totally +indifferent.--I don't doubt he meant this; but a day or two after, +something stirred him up, and I heard his voice uttering itself aloud, +thus:-- + +--It must be done, Sir!--he was saying,--it must be done! Our religion +has been Judaized, it has been Romanized, it has been Orientalized, it +has been Anglicized, and the time is at hand when it must be +AMERICANIZED! Now, Sir, you see what Americanizing is in politics;--it +means that a man shall have a vote because he is a man,--and shall vote +for whom he pleases, without his neighbor's interference. If he chooses +to vote for the Devil, that is his lookout;--perhaps he thinks the Devil +is better than the other candidates; and I don't doubt he's often right, +Sir! Just so a man's soul has a vote in the spiritual community; and it +doesn't do, Sir, or it won't do long, to call him "schismatic" and +"heretic" and those other wicked names that the old murderous +Inquisitors have left us to help along "peace and good-will to men"! + +As long as you could catch a man and drop him into an _oubliette_, or +pull him out a few inches longer by machinery, or put a hot iron through +his tongue, or make him climb up a ladder and sit on a board at the top +of a stake so that he should be slowly broiled by the fire kindled round +it, there was some sense in these words; they led to something. But +since we have done with those tools, we had better give up those words. +I should like to see a Yankee advertisement like this!--(the little +gentleman laughed fiercely as he uttered the words,--) + +--Patent thumb-screws, warranted to crush the bone in three turns. + +--The cast-iron boot, with wedge and mallet,--only five dollars! + +--The celebrated extension-rack, warranted to stretch a man six inches +in twenty minutes,--money returned, if it proves unsatisfactory. + +I should like to see such an advertisement, I say, Sir! Now, what's the +use of using the words that belonged with the thumb-screws, and the +Blessed Virgin with the knives under her petticoats and sleeves and +bodice, and the _dry pan and gradual fire_, if we can't have the things +themselves, Sir? What's the use of _painting_ the fire round a poor +fellow, when you think it won't do to kindle one under him,--as they did +at Valencia or Valladolid, or wherever it was? + +--What story is that?--I said. + +Why,--he answered,--at the last _auto-da-fé_, in 1824 or '5, or +somewhere there,--it's a traveller's story, but a mighty knowing +traveller he is,--they had a "heretic" to use up according to the +statutes provided for the crime of private opinion. They couldn't quite +make up their minds to burn him, so they only _hung_ him in a hogshead +painted all over with flames! + +No, Sir! when a man calls you names because you go to the ballot-box and +vote for your candidate, or because you say this or that is your +opinion, he forgets in which half of the world he was born, Sir! It +won't be long, Sir, before we have Americanized religion as we have +Americanized government; and then, Sir, every soul God sends into the +world will be good in the face of all men for just so much of His +"inspiration" as "giveth him understanding"!--None of my words, Sir! +none of my words! + +--If Iris does not love this little gentleman, what does love look like +when one sees it? She follows him with her eyes, she leans over toward +him when he speaks, her face changes with the changes of his speech, so +that one might think it was with her as with Christabel,-- + + That all her features were resigned + To this sole image in her mind. + +But she never looks at him with such intensity of devotion as when he +says anything about the soul and the soul's atmosphere, religion. + +Women are twice as religious as men;--all the world knows that. Whether +they are any _better_, in the eyes of Absolute Justice, might be +questioned; for the additional religious element supplied by sex hardly +seems to be a matter of praise or blame. But in all common aspects they +are so much above us that we get most of our religion from them,--from +their teachings, from their example,--above all, from their pure +affections. + +Now this poor little Iris had been talked to strangely in her childhood. +Especially she had been told that she hated all good things,--which +every sensible parent knows well enough is not true of a great many +children, to say the least. I have sometimes questioned whether many +libels on human nature had not been a natural consequence of the +celibacy of the clergy, which was enforced for so long a period. + +The child had met this and some other equally encouraging statements as +to her spiritual conditions, early in life, and fought the battle of +spiritual independence prematurely, as many children do. If all she did +was hateful to God, what was the meaning of the approving or else the +disapproving conscience, when she had done "right" or "wrong"? No +"shoulder-striker" hits out straighter than a child with its logic. Why, +I can remember lying in my bed in the nursery and settling questions +which all that I have heard since and got out of books has never been +able to raise again. If a child does not assert itself in this way in +good season, it becomes just what its parents or teachers were, and is +no better than a plaster image.--How old was I at the time? I suppose +about 5823 years old,--that is, counting from Archbishop Usher's date of +the Creation, and adding the life of the race, whose accumulated +intelligence is a part of my inheritance, to my own. A good deal older +than Plato, you see, and much more experienced than my Lord Bacon and +most of the world's teachers.--Old books are books of the world's youth, +and new books are fruits of its age. How many of all these old folios +round me are like so many old cupels! The gold has passed out of them +long ago, but their pores are full of the dross with which it was +mingled. + +And so Iris--having thrown off that first lasso, which not only fetters, +but _chokes_ those whom it can hold, so that they give themselves up +trembling and breathless to the great soul-subduer, who has them by the +windpipe--had settled a brief creed for herself, in which love of the +neighbor, whom we have seen, was the first article, and love of the +Creator, whom we have not seen, grew out of this as its natural +development, being necessarily second in order of time to the first +unselfish emotions which we feel for the fellow-creatures who surround +us in our early years. + +The child must have some place to worship. What would a young girl be +who never mingled her voice with the songs and prayers that rose all +around her with every returning day of rest? And Iris was free to +choose. Sometimes one and sometimes another would offer to carry her to +this or that place of worship; and when the doors were hospitably +opened, she would often go meekly in by herself. It was a curious fact, +that two churches as remote from each other in doctrine as could well be +divided her affections. + +The Church of Saint Polycarp had very much the look of a Roman Catholic +chapel. I do not wish to run the risk of giving names to the +ecclesiastical furniture which gave it such a Romish aspect; but there +were pictures, and inscriptions in antiquated characters, and there were +reading-stands, and flowers on the altar, and other elegant +arrangements. Then there were boys to sing alternately in choirs +responsive to each other, and there was much bowing, with very loud +responding, and a long service and a short sermon, and a bag, such as +Judas used to hold in the old pictures, was carried round to receive +contributions. Everything was done not only "decently and in order," +but, perhaps one might say, with a certain air of magnifying their +office on the part of the dignified clergymen, often two or three in +number. The music and the free welcome were grateful to Iris, and she +forgot her prejudices at the door of the chapel. For this was a church +with open doors, with seats for all classes and all colors alike,--a +church of zealous worshippers after their faith, of charitable and +serviceable men and women, one that took care of its children and never +forgot its poor, and whose people were much more occupied in looking out +for their own souls than in attacking the faith of their neighbors. In +its mode of worship there was a union of two qualities,--the taste and +refinement, which the educated require just as much in their churches as +else where, and the air of stateliness, almost of pomp, which impresses +the common worshipper, and is often not without its effect upon those +who think they hold outward forms as of little value. Under the +half-Romish aspect of the Church of Saint Polycarp, the young girl found +a devout and loving and singularly cheerful religious spirit. The +artistic sense, which betrayed itself in the dramatic proprieties of its +ritual, harmonized with her taste. The mingled murmur of the loud +responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so simple, yet so fervent, almost +as if every tenth heartbeat, instead of its dull _tic-tac_, articulated +itself as "Good Lord, deliver us!"--the sweet alternation of the two +choirs, as their holy song floated from side to side,--the keen young +voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that passes from one grove +to another, carrying its music with it back and forward,--why should she +not love these gracious outward signs of those inner harmonies which +none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of her +fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint +Polycarp? + +The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had +introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of +our boarders as were not otherwise provided for. I saw them looking over +the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two +such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety +for a great while. But they seemed to mind nothing but their +prayer-book. By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.--I don't believe +she will;--so awkward, you know;--besides, she only came by invitation. +There she is, with her hand in her pocket, though,--and sure enough, her +little bit of silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath. God bless +her! she hasn't much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, +and that is all Heaven asks.--That was the first time I noticed these +young people together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming +propriety,--in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with +them, whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good +behavior. A day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had +left his seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that +of Iris, so that they have been as far removed from each other as they +could be at the table. His new seat is three or four places farther down +the table. Of course I made a romance out of this, at once. So stupid +not to see it! How could it be otherwise?--Did you speak, Madam? I beg +your pardon. (To my lady-reader.) + +I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl +treats her little deformed neighbor. If he were in the way of going to +church, I know she would follow him. But his worship, if any, is not +with the throng of men and women and staring children. + +I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer. I should +go for various reasons, if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to +find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can +accept all their creeds or not. One place of worship comes nearer than +the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our +young girl. + +The Church of the Galileans, as it is called, is even humbler in outside +pretensions than the Church of Saint Polycarp. Like that, it is open to +all comers. The stranger who approaches it looks down a quiet street and +sees the plainest of chapels,--a kind of wooden tent, that owes whatever +grace it has to its pointed windows and the high, sharp roof,--traces, +both, of that upward movement of ecclesiastical architecture which +soared aloft in cathedral-spires, shooting into the sky as the spike of +a flowering aloe from the cluster of broad, sharp-wedged leaves below. +This suggestion of mediæval symbolism, aided by a minute turret in which +a hand-bell might have hung and found just room enough to turn over, was +all of outward show the small edifice could boast. Within there was very +little that pretended to be attractive. A small organ at one side, and a +plain pulpit, showed that the building was a church; but it was a church +reduced to its simplest expression. + +Yet when the great and wise monarch of the East sat upon his throne, in +all the golden blaze of the spoils of Ophir and the freights of the navy +of Tarshish, his glory was not like that of this simple chapel in its +Sunday garniture. For the lilies of the field, in their season, and the +fairest flowers of the year, in due succession, were clustered every +Sunday morning over the preacher's desk. Slight, thin-tissued blossoms +of pink and blue and virgin white in early spring, then the +full-breasted and deep-hearted roses of summer, then the velvet-robed +crimson and yellow flowers of autumn, and in the winter delicate exotics +that grew under skies of glass in the false summers of our crystal +palaces without knowing that it was the dreadful winter of New England +which was rattling the doors and frosting the panes,--the whole year +told its history of life and growth and beauty from that simple desk. +There was always at least one good sermon,--this floral homily. There +was at least one good prayer,--that brief space when all were silent, +after the manner of the Friends at their devotions. + +Here, too, Iris found an atmosphere of peace and love. The same gentle, +thoughtful faces, the same cheerful but reverential spirit, the same +quiet, the same life of active benevolence. But in all else how +different from the Church of Saint Polycarp! No clerical costume, no +ceremonial forms, no carefully trained choirs. A liturgy they have, to +be sure, which does not scruple to borrow from the time-honored manuals +of devotion, but also does not hesitate to change its expressions to its +own liking. + +Perhaps the good people seem a little easy with each other;--they are +apt to nod cheerfully, and have even been known to whisper before the +minister came in. But it is a relief to get rid of that old +Sunday--no,--_Sabbath_ face, which suggests the idea that the first day +of the week is commemorative of some most mournful event. The truth is, +these people meet very much as a family does for its devotions, not +putting off their humanity in the least, considering it on the whole +quite a cheerful matter to come together for prayer and song and good +counsel from kind and wise lips. And if they are freer in their demeanor +than some very precise congregations, they have not the air of a worldly +set of people. Clearly they have _not_ come to advertise their tailors +and milliners, nor for the sake of exchanging criticisms on the literary +character of the sermon they may hear. There is no restlessness and no +restraint among this quiet, cheerful people. One thing that keeps them +calm and happy during the season so evidently trying to many +congregations is, that they join very generally in the singing. In this +way they get rid of that accumulated nervous force which escapes in all +sorts of fidgety movements, so that a minister trying to keep his +congregation still reminds one of a boy with his hand over the nose of a +pump which another boy is working,--this spirting impatience of the +people is so like the jets that find their way through his fingers, and +the grand rush out at the final Amen! has such a wonderful likeness to +the gush that takes place when the boy pulls his hand away, with such +immense relief, as it seems, to both the pump and the officiating +youngster. + +How sweet is this blending of all voices and all hearts in one common +song of praise! Some will sing a little loud, perhaps,--and now and then +an impatient chorister will get a syllable or two in advance, or an +enchanted singer so lose all thought of time and place in the luxury of +a closing cadence that he holds on to the last semibreve upon his +private responsibility; but how much more of the spirit of the old +Psalmist in the music of these imperfectly trained voices than in the +academic niceties of the paid performers who take our musical worship +out of our hands! + +I am of the opinion that the creed of the Church of the Galileans is not +quite so precisely laid down as that of the Church of Saint Polycarp. +Yet I suspect, if one of the good people from each of those churches had +met over the bed of a suffering fellow-creature, or for the promotion of +any charitable object, they would have found they had more in common +than all the special beliefs or want of beliefs that separated them +would amount to. There are always many who believe that the fruits of a +tree afford a better test of its condition than a statement of the +composts with which it is dressed,--though the last has its meaning and +importance, no doubt. + +Between these two churches, then, our young Iris divides her affections. +But I doubt if she listens to the preacher at either with more devotion +than she does to her little neighbor when he talks of these matters. + +What does he believe? In the first place, there is some deep-rooted +disquiet lying at the bottom of his soul, which makes him very bitter +against all kinds of usurpation over the right of private judgment. Over +this seems to lie a certain tenderness for humanity in general, bred out +of life-long trial, I should say, but sharply streaked with fiery lines +of wrath at various individual acts of wrong, especially if they come in +an ecclesiastical shape, and recall to him the days when his mother's +great-grandmother was strangled on Witch Hill, with a text from the Old +Testament for her halter. With all this, he has a boundless belief in +the future of this experimental hemisphere, and especially in the +destiny of the free thought of its northeastern metropolis. + +--A man can see further, Sir,--he said one day,--from the top of Boston +State-House, and see more that is worth seeing, than from all the +pyramids and turrets and steeples in all the places in the world! No +smoke, Sir; no fog, Sir; and a clean sweep from the Outer Light and the +sea beyond it to the New Hampshire mountains! Yes, Sir,--and there are +great truths that are higher than mountains and broader than seas, that +people are looking for from the tops of these hills of ours,--such as +the world never saw, though it might have seen them at Jerusalem, if its +eyes had been open!--Where do they have most crazy people? Tell me that, +Sir! + +I answered, that I had heard it said there were more in New England than +in most countries, perhaps more than in any part of the world. + +Very good. Sir,--he answered.--When have there been most people killed +and wounded in the course of this century? + +During the wars of the French Empire, no doubt,--I said. + +That's it! that's it!--said the little gentleman;--where the battle of +intelligence is fought, there are most minds bruised and broken! We're +battling for a faith here, Sir. + +The divinity-student remarked, that it was rather late in the world's +history for men to be looking out for a new faith. + +I didn't say a new faith,--said the little gentleman;--old or new, it +can't help being different here in this American mind of ours from +anything that ever was before; the _people_ are new, Sir, and that makes +the difference. One load of corn goes to the sty, and makes the fat of +swine,--another goes to the farm-house, and becomes the muscle that +clothes the right arms of heroes. It isn't where a pawn stands on the +board that makes the difference, but what the game round it is when it +is on this or that square. + +Can any man look round and see what Christian countries are now doing, +and how they are governed, and what is the general condition of society, +without seeing that Christianity is the flag under which the world +sails, and not the rudder that steers its course? No, Sir! There was a +great raft built about two thousand years ago,--call it an ark, +rather,--the world's great ark! big enough to hold all mankind, and made +to be launched right out into the open waves of life,--and here it has +been lying, one end on the shore and one end bobbing up and down in the +water, men fighting all the time as to who should be captain and who +should have the state-rooms, and throwing each other over the side +because they could not agree about the points of compass, but the great +vessel never gelling afloat with its freight of nations and their +rulers;--and now, Sir, there is and has been for this long time a fleet +of "heretic" lighters sailing out of Boston Bay, and they have been +saying, and they say now, and they mean to keep saying, "Pump out your +bilge-water, shovel over your loads of idle ballast, get out your old +rotten cargo, and we will carry it out into deep waters and sink it +where it will never be seen again; so shall the ark of the world's hope +float on the ocean, instead of sticking in the dock-mud where it is +lying!" + +It's a slow business, this of getting the ark launched. The Jordan +wasn't deep enough, and the Tiber wasn't deep enough, and the Rhone +wasn't deep enough, and the Thames wasn't deep enough,--and perhaps the +Charles isn't deep enough; but I don't feel sure of that, Sir, and I +love to hear the workmen knocking at the old blocks of tradition and +making the ways smooth with the oil of the Good Samaritan. I don't know, +Sir,--but I do think she stirs a little,--I do believe she slides;--and +when I think of what a work that is for the dear old three-breasted +mother of American liberty, I would not take all the glory of all the +greatest cities in the world for my birthright in the soil of little +Boston! + +--Some of us could not help smiling at this burst of local patriotism, +especially when it finished with the last two words. + +And Iris smiled, too. But it was the radiant smile of pleasure which +always lights up her face when her little neighbor gets excited on the +great topics of progress in freedom and religion, and especially on the +part which, as he pleases himself with believing, his own city is to +take in that consummation of human development to which he looks +forward. + +Presently she looked into his face with a changed expression,--the +anxiety of a mother that sees her child suffering. + +You are not well,--she said. + +I am never well,--he answered.--His eyes fell mechanically on the +death's-head ring he wore on his right hand. She took his hand as if it +had been a baby's, and turned the grim device so that it should be out +of sight. One slight, sad, slow movement of the head seemed to say, "The +death-symbol is still there!" + +A very odd personage, to be sure! Seems to know what is going on,--reads +books, old and new,--has many recent publications sent him, they tell +me,--but, what is more curious, keeps up with the every-day affairs of +the world, too. Whether he hears everything that is said with +preternatural acuteness, or whether some confidential friend visits him +in a quiet way, is more than I can tell. I can make nothing more of the +noises I hear in his room than my old conjectures. The movements I +mention are less frequent, but I often hear the plaintive cry,--I +observe that it is rarely laughing of late;--I never have detected one +articulate word, but I never heard such tones from anything but a human +voice. + +There has been, of late, a deference approaching to tenderness, on the +part of the boarders generally, so far as he is concerned. This is +doubtless owing to the air of suffering which seems to have saddened his +look of late. Either some passion is gnawing at him inwardly, or some +hidden disease is at work upon him. + +--What's the matter with Little Boston?--said the young man John to me +one day.--There a'n't much of him, anyhow; but 't seems to me he looks +peakeder than ever. The old woman says he's in a bad way, 'n' wants a +nuss to take care of him. Them nusses that take care of old rich folks +marry 'em sometimes,--'n' they don't commonly live a great while after +that. _No, Sir!_ I don't see what he wants to die for, after he's taken +so much trouble to live in such poor accommodations as that crooked body +of his. I should like to know how his soul crawled into it, 'n' how it's +goin' to get out. What business has he to die, I should like to know? +Let Ma'am Allen (the gentleman with the _diamond_) die, if he likes, and +be (this is a family-magazine); but we a'n't goin' to have _him_ dyin'. +Not by a great sight. Can't do without him anyhow. A'n't it fun to hear +him blow off his steam? + +I believe the young fellow would take it as a personal insult, if the +little gentleman should show any symptoms of quitting our table for a +better world. + +--In the mean time, what with going to church in company with our young +lady, and taking every chance I could get to talk with her, I have found +myself becoming, I will not say intimate, but well acquainted with Miss +Iris. There is a certain frankness and directness about her that perhaps +belong to her artist nature. For, you see, the one thing that marks the +true artist is a clear perception and a firm, bold hand, in distinction +from that imperfect mental vision and uncertain touch which give us the +feeble pictures and the lumpy statues of the mere artisans on canvas or +in stone. A true artist, therefore, can hardly fail to have a sharp, +well-defined character. Besides this, many young girls have a strange +audacity blended with their instinctive delicacy. Even in physical +daring many of them are a match for boys; whereas you will find few +among mature women, and especially if they are mothers, who do not +confess, and not unfrequently proclaim, their timidity. One of these +young girls, as many of us hereabouts remember, climbed to the top of a +jagged, slippery rock lying out in the waves,--an ugly height to get up, +and a worse one to get down, even for a bold young fellow of sixteen. +Another was in the way of climbing tall trees for crows' nests,--and +crows generally know about how far boys can "shin up," and set their +household establishments above high-water-mark. Still another of these +young ladies I saw for the first time in an open boat, tossing on the +ocean ground-swell, a mile or two from shore, off a lonely island. She +lost all her daring, after she had some girls of her own to look out +for. + +Many blondes are very gentle, yielding in character, impressible, +unelastic. But the _positive_ blondes, with the golden tint running +through them, are often full of character. They come from those +deep-bosomed German women that Tacitus portrayed in such strong colors. +The _negative_ blondes, or those women whose tints have faded out as +their line of descent has become impoverished, are of various blood, and +in them the soul has often become pale with that blanching of the hair +and loss of color in the eyes which makes them approach the character of +Albinesses. + +I see in this young girl that union of strength and sensibility which, +when directed and impelled by the strong instinct so apt to accompany +this combination of active and passive capacity, we call _genius_. She +is not an accomplished artist, certainly, as yet; but there is always an +air in every careless figure she draws, as it were of upward +aspiration,--the _elan_ of John of Bologna's Mercury,--a lift to them, +as if they had on winged sandals, like the herald of the gods. I hear +her singing sometimes; and though she evidently is not trained, yet is +there a wild sweetness in her fitful and sometimes fantastic +melodies,--such as can come only from the inspiration of the +moment,--strangely enough, reminding me of those long passages I have +heard from my little neighbor's room, yet of different tone, and by no +means to be mistaken for those weird harmonies. + +I cannot pretend to deny that I am interested in the girl. Alone, +unprotected, as I have seen so many young girls left in boarding-houses, +the centre of all the men's eyes that surround the table, watched with +jealous sharpness by every woman, most of all by that poor relation of +our landlady, who belongs to the class of women that like to catch +others in mischief when they are too mature for indiscretions, (as one +sees old rogues turn to thief-catchers,) one of Nature's _gendarmerie_, +clad in a complete suit of wrinkles, the cheapest coat-of-mail against +the shafts of the great little enemy,--so surrounded, Iris spans this +commonplace household-life of ours with her arch of beauty, as the +rainbow, whose name she borrows, looks down on a dreary pasture with its +feeding flocks and herds of indifferent animals. + +These young girls that live in boarding-houses can do pretty much as +they will. The female _gendarmes_ are off guard occasionally. The +sitting-room has its solitary moments, when any two boarders who wish to +meet may come together accidentally, (_accidentally_, I said, Madam, and +I had not the slightest intention of Italicizing the word,) and discuss +the social or political questions of the day, or any other subject that +may prove interesting. Many charming conversations take place at the +foot of the stairs, or while one of the parties is holding the latch of +a door,--in the shadow of porticos, and especially on those outside +balconies which some of our Southern neighbors call "stoops," the most +charming places in the world when the moon is just right and the roses +and honeysuckles are in full blow,--as we used to think in eighteen +hundred and never mention it. + +On such a balcony or "stoop," one evening, I walked with Iris. We were +on pretty good terms now, and I had coaxed her arm under mine,--my left +arm, of course. That leaves one's right arm free to defend the lovely +creature, if the rival--odious wretch!--attempt to ravish her from your +side. Likewise if one's heart should happen to beat a little, its mute +language will not be without its meaning, as you will perceive when the +arm you hold begins to tremble,--a circumstance like to occur, if you +happen to be a good-looking young fellow, and you two have the "stoop" +to yourselves. + +We had it to ourselves that evening. The Koh-i-noor, as we called him, +was in a corner with our landlady's daughter. The young fellow John was +smoking out in the yard. The _gendarme_ was afraid of the evening air, +and kept inside. The young Marylander came to the door, looked out and +saw us walking together, gave his hat a pull over his forehead and +stalked off. I felt a slight spasm, as it were, in the arm I held, and +saw the girl's head turn over her shoulder for a second. What a kind +creature this is! She has no special interest in this youth, but she +does not like to see a young fellow going off because he feels as if he +were not wanted. + +She had her locked drawing-book under her arm.--Let me take it,--I said. + +She gave it to me to carry. + +This is full of caricatures of all of us, I am sure,--said I. + +She laughed, and said,--No,--not all of you. + +I was there, of course? + +Why, no,--she had never taken so much pains with me. + +Then she would let me see the inside of it? + +She would think of it. + +Just as we parted, she took a little key from her pocket and handed it +to me.--This unlocks my naughty book,--she said,--you shall see it. I am +not afraid of you. + +I don't know whether the last words exactly pleased me. At any rate, I +took the book and hurried with it to my room. I opened it, and saw, in a +few glances, that I held the heart of Iris in my hand. + + * * * * * + +--I have no verses for you this month, except these few lines suggested +by the season. + + +MIDSUMMER. + +Here! sweep these foolish leaves away,-- +I will not crush my brains to-day!-- +Look! are the southern curtains drawn? +Fetch me a fan, and so begone! + +Not that,--the palm-tree's rustling leaf +Brought from a parching coral-reef! +Its breath is heated;--I would swing +The broad gray plumes,--the eagle's wing. + +I hate these roses' feverish blood!-- +Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, +A long-stemmed lily from the lake, +Cold as a coiling water-snake. + +Rain me sweet odors on the air, +And wheel me up my Indian chair, +And spread some book not overwise +Flat out before my sleepy eyes. + +--Who knows it not,--this dead recoil +Of weary fibres stretched with toil,-- +The pulse that flutters faint and low +When Summer's seething breezes blow? + +O Nature! bare thy loving breast +And give thy child one hour of rest,-- +One little hour to lie unseen +Beneath thy scarf of leafy green! + +So, curtained by a singing pine, +Its murmuring voice shall blend with mine, +Till, lost in dreams, my faltering lay +In sweeter music dies away. + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Life and Liberty in America_: or Sketches of a Tour in the United +States and Canada in 1857-8. By CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D., F.S.A. London: +Smith, Elder, & Co. 1859. + +"Let him come back and write a book about the 'Merrikins as'll pay all +his expenses and more, if he blows 'em up enough," urged Mr. Anthony +Weller, by way of climax to his scheme for Mr. Pickwick's liberation from +the Fleet Prison. Whether Mr. Dickens, in putting forth this suggestion +through one of his favorite characters, had or had not a view to +subsequent operations of his own, has long been a sore question among +his admirers on this side of the Atlantic. We believe that he had not; +and that such "blowing-up" as he imparted to the people of this country +was wholly unpremeditated and spontaneous, besides being of so harmless +a nature that the patriot of most uneasy virtue need have been nowise +distressed in consequence. The language can show few more amusing books +than the "American Notes," especially the serious parts thereof. + +Mr. Dickens had plenty of objects besides his future self at which to +aim his satirical shot. At the time he discharged it, the literary +market of England was overstocked with books on America, the authors of +which had apparently tasked the best energies of their lungs in +incessant "blowings-up" of all that came within range of their breath. +Up to that period, though viewing America from various stand-points, +they had seldom failed to recognize this one essential element of +success. Since then, however, attempts have been made to satisfy the +prejudices of all sides,--in which the bitter and the sweet have been +deftly mingled, with the obvious belief that persons aggrieved, while +suffering from the authors' stings, would derive comfort from the +consciousness of accompanying honey. These hopes generally proved +fallacious, and the authors, falling to the ground between the two +stools of American sensitiveness and British asperity, were regarded in +the light of stern warnings by many of their successors, who straightway +became pitiless. + +The critical works on America by English writers, published during the +last fifty years, may be numbered by hundreds. Of these, nearly half +have at different times been reprinted in this country. Most of them are +now unknown, having passed to that oblivion of letters from whose bourn +no short-sighted and narrow-minded traveller ever ought to return. The +annual harvest began to appear about a half-century ago, when little +more than descriptions of scenery and geographical statistics were +ventured upon,--although one quaint explorer, John Lambert, vouchsafed, +in 1810, some sketches of society, from which we learn, among other +interesting facts, that a species of Bloomerism pervaded New York, and +flourished on Broadway, even at that early day. Our visitors very soon +enlarged the sphere of their observations, and entered upon the widest +discussions of republican manners and morals. Slavery, as was to be +expected, received immediate attention. In the course of ten years, +"American Tours" had set in with such rigor, that one writer felt called +upon to apologize for adding another to the already profuse supply. This +was in 1818. For the next fifteen years, the principle of unlimited +mockery was quite faithfully observed. The Honorable De Roos, who made a +naval examination in 1826, and satisfied himself that the United States +could never be a maritime power,--Colonel Maxwell, who entered upon a +military investigation, and came to a similar conclusion respecting our +prospects as to army, and who gained great credit for independent +judgment by pronouncing Niagara a humbug,--Mrs. Kemble, frisky and +fragmentary, excepting when her father was concerned, and then filially +diffuse,--Mrs. Trollope, who refused to incumber herself with amiability +or veracity,--Mr. Lieber, who was principally troubled by a camp meeting +at which he assisted,--Miss Martineau, who retailed too much of the +gossip that had been decanted through the tunnel of her trumpet,--and +Captain Marryatt, who was simply clownish,--afford fair examples of the +style which dominated until about 1836 or 1837. Then works of a better +order began to appear. America received scientific attention. It had +been agriculturally worked up in 1818 by Cobbett, whose example was now +followed by Shirreff and others. In 1839, George Combe subjected us to +phrenological treatment, and had the frankness to acknowledge that it +was impossible for an individual to properly describe a great nation. +Afterwards came Lyell, the geologist, who did not, however, confine +himself to scientific research, but also analyzed the social deposits, +and ascertained that Slavery was triturable. The manufacturers of +gossip, meanwhile, had revolutionized the old system. Mr. Dickens blew +hot and cold, uniting extremes. Godley, in 1841, disavowed satire, and +was solemnly severe. Others evinced a similar disposition, but the +result was not triumphant. Alexander Mackay, in 1846, returned to +ridicule; and Alfred Bunn, a few years after, surpassed even Marryatt in +his flippant falsehood. Mr. Arthur Cunynghame, a Canadian officer, +entertained his friends, in 1850, with a dainty volume, in which the +first personal pronoun averaged one hundred to a page, and the manner of +which was as stiff as the ramrods of his regiment. Of our more recent +judges, the best remembered are Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley who gave to +the world the details of her private experiences,--Mr. Chambers, of +whose book there is really nothing in particular to say,--Mr. Baxter, +who considered Peter Parley a shining light of American +literature,--Miss Murray, who sacrificed her interests at St. James's +upon the shrine of Antislavery,--Mr. Phillipps, scientific,--Mr. +Russell, agricultural,--Mr. Jobson, theological,--and Mr. Colley +Grattan, who may be termed the Sir Anthony Absolute of American censors, +insisting that the Lady Columbia shall be as ugly as he chooses, shall +have a hump on each shoulder, shall be as crooked as the crescent, and +so forth. + +Last of all comes Mr. Charles Mackay's book. Before proceeding to the +few general words we have to say of it, let us look for a moment at a +question which he, like a number of his predecessors, has considered +with some attention. Why it is that the people of the United States +manifest such acute sensibility to the strictures of English writers, +and receive their criticisms with so much suspicion, Mr. Mackay is +unable fully to determine. He is forced to believe that it is only their +anxiety "to stand well in English opinion which causes them to wince"; +particularly as "French and Germans may condemn, and nobody cares what +they say." This is but a part of the truth. Unquestionably, Americans +do, as Mr. Mackay says, "attach undue importance to what English +travellers may say"; but this does not account for the universal feeling +of mortification which follows the appearance of each new tourist's +story. Americans have not failed to observe, that, of the hundreds of +writers who come over, only a few of the most prominent of whom we have +mentioned above, not one in fifty is animated by a sincere impulse of +honest good-will. They have learned to mistrust them all, as triflers +with our reputation, if not predetermined calumniators. They have +witnessed over and over again the childish ignorance, the discourtesy, +the vulgar deceptions of this class of bookmakers. They are not blind to +these repeated struggles to digest a mass of mental food for years, in +days or weeks. They know their nation cannot be understood by these +chance viewers, feebly glancing through greenest spectacles, any more +than the Atlantic can be sounded with a seven-fathom line. They have +become familiar with the English traveller only to regard him with +contempt. Each new production has opened the old wound. Each new +announcement awakens only derisive expectations. As for "French and +Germans," with them it is very different; and Mr. Mackay ought to know +it. They commonly write, if not with comprehensive vision, at least with +integrity of purpose. The best works on America are by Frenchmen. What +Englishman has shown the sincerity and fairness of De Tocqueville or +Chevalier? Knowing, then, that absurd malice and a capacity for +microscopic investigation of superficial irregularities in a society not +yet defined are the principal, and in many cases the only, +qualifications deemed necessary to accomplish an English book on +America, is it matter for wonder that Americans should hesitate to kiss +the clumsy rods so liberally dispensed? + +We hasten to say that Mr. Charles Mackay's "Life and Liberty in America" +is unusually free from the worst of these faults. Hasty judgments, +offences against taste, inaccuracies, occasional revelations of personal +pique it has; but it is not malicious. Sometimes it is even affecting in +its tenderness. It breathes a spirit of paternal regard. But it is, +perhaps, the dullest of books. If not "icily regular," it is "splendidly +null." The style is as oppressive as a London fog. It is marked, to use +the author's own words, by "elegant and drowsy stagnation." After the +first few pages, it is with weariness that we follow him. We are +inclined to think Mr. Mackay has written too much, Mr. Squeers had milk +for three of his pupils watered up to the necessities of five. Mr. +Mackay's experiences might have sustained him through a single small +volume, but he has diluted them to the requirements of two large ones. +This would injure the prospects of his work in America, but may not +interfere with them in England. Minute details of toilet agonies, +pecuniary miseries, laundry tribulations, and anxieties of appetite may +possess an interest abroad which we are unable to appreciate here. We +are not excited by the intelligence that Mr. Mackay had an altercation +with a negro servant on board a Sound steamer, because he could not have +lager-beer at table. Such things have been noticed before. We do not +shed a sympathetic tear over the two dollars which he once had to +disgorge in New York, in payment for a ride of two miles; nor do we +mourn for the numerous other dollars with which he reluctantly parted to +satisfy the rapacity of hack-drivers all over the Union. We do not +thrill with indignation, when we learn that he was, on a certain +occasion, swept by crinolines into the middle of Broadway. Neither are +we in any way stirred by such information as, that he, like an English +lord of whom he tells, was accustomed to eat oysters every night in New +York; or that he "was pervaded, permeated, steeped, and bathed in a +longing desire to behold Niagara," and that, when he beheld it, his +"feelings were not so much those of astonishment as of an overpowering +sense of Law"; or that a peddler in a railroad-car sold nine bottles of +quack medicine at a dollar a bottle; or that he had eight pages of +interview with a Baltimore madman, who proved his insanity by +perpetually calling Mr. Mackay the "Prince of the Poets of England." The +dreary solemnity with which these incidents are narrated renders them +doubly tedious. A flash of humor might enliven them, but we never see a +spark. Mr. Mackay's comic stories, too, of which there are not a few, +are most lamentable specimens of wit, suggesting forcibly the +poppy-seeds spoken of by Mr. Pillicoddy, which are soporific in +tendency, and which, if taken incessantly for a period of three weeks, +produce instant death. + +Mr. Mackay's experiences were not of a startling character. He travelled +leisurely, and recorded discreetly. His blunders on a large scale are +not numerous; but of minor facts, he announces many which may be classed +among the remarkable discoveries of the season. He states that New York, +New Jersey,(!) and Brooklyn form one city; that Broadway, N.Y., is +decorated with elms, willows, and mountain-ashes, "drooping in green +beauty"; that persons with decent coats and clean shirts in Boston may +be safely put down as lecturers, Unitarian ministers, or poets; that +Maryland and Virginia are one commonwealth; that eighteen months before +every Presidential election, a cause of quarrel is made with England by +both the principal political parties, for the purpose of securing the +Irish rote; that measly pork is caused by too hasty insertion in brine +after killing, and consequent rapid fermentation; that the people of +the United States, unless they have travelled in Europe, are quite +unable to appreciate wit. [Mr. Mackay's wit? If so, certainly.] These +are but random pluckings from a rich blossoming. + +The subject upon which the author has labored most earnestly is that of +Slavery. If the views he sets forth are the result of his own +investigation, he is entitled to credit for unusual exactness. There is +nothing new about them, to be sure; but there is also nothing absurd, +which is a great point. He maintains the argument against Slavery, that +it is to be practically considered in its injurious influences on the +white people of the Slave States, and, through them, on the nation at +large. When he undertakes an emotional view of the "institution," he +becomes feeble again. He thus describes his sensations while visiting a +slave-market in New Orleans:--"I entertained at that moment such a +hatred of slavery, that, had it been in my power to abolish it in an +instant off the face of the earth by the mere expression of my will, +slavery at that moment would have ceased to exist,"--an avowal which +will hardly be likely to confound the American people by its boldness. + +The statistical information in these volumes is as accurate as that of +ordinary gazetteers. In most cases, the author appears to have drawn his +information from proper sources. The principal exceptions to this are +shown in one or two statements which he makes on the authority of his +Pylades, Colonel Fuller, and in his remarks upon Canada, which are +colored with excessive warmth. Mr. Mackay rests greater hopes upon the +future of Canada than upon that of the United States. He considers the +Canadians as the rivals in energy, enterprise, and industry of the +people of the United States. His testimony differs from that of Lord +Durham, who had good opportunities for knowing something about the +matter when he had charge of Canadian affairs, and who declared, that +"on the American side of the frontier all is activity and bustle," etc., +"on the British side all seems waste and desolate." + +Mr. Mackay gives correctly the most prominent names of American +literature, but his list of artists is very imperfect. The little that +he says about American music is all wrong. The first opera by an +American was produced in 1845; and it is not true that this is a +solitary example. Were it possible for us to pursue them, we should run +down more errors of this kind than a prudent man would have put into +print. + +Altogether, while we readily admit that Mr. Mackay has honestly, and, in +general, good-naturedly, performed his duty as an American chronicler, +renouncing in a great measure the old principle of "blowing-up," and +that his essays do not reek with ignorance, like those of many of his +predecessors, it is yet proper to say that he has achieved a stupendous +bore. His two volumes are to us a melancholy remembrance. Their life is +spiced with no variety. The same dead level of dry personal detail +speaks through each chapter; or if occasional relief is afforded, it is +"in liquid lines mellifluously bland," and prosier than all the rest. +The one source of amusement that the reader will discover is the +complacent self-confidence which no assumption of modesty can hide. "A +controversy had been raging for at least a week" in Philadelphia about +the author's letters in the "Illustrated London News." His defender was +"one of the most influential and best-conducted papers of the Union"; +his assailant behaved "scurvily." We cannot lavish examples. This is the +type of a hundred. Mr. Mackay seems to expect that his Jeremiad on +tobacco-chewing and spitting will act in America as St. Patrick's spells +did on the vermin of Ireland. Unfortunately, it will not. Mr. Dickens +attempted the same thing in a much better manner,--excepting where Mr. +Mackay has copied him exactly, as he has once or twice,--and even the +novelist's efforts were fruitless. On the other hand, the main source of +annoyance will be found in the needless elevation of minute evils, and +the determination to form general judgments from isolated experiences. +But of this we do not much complain. Rome derived some benefit from the +cackling of a goose. Possibly we may be made in some respects a wiser +and a better nation through Mr. Mackay's influence. For ourselves, +however, if our aspirations ever turn toward a literary Paradise, we +shall pray that it may be one where travellers cease from troubling and +dull tourists are at rest. + + * * * * * + +1. _The New and the Old_; or California and India in Romantic Aspects. +By J.W. PALMER, M.D. New York: Rudd & Carleton. 1859. + +2. _Up and Down the Irawaddi_; being Passages of Adventure in the Burman +Empire. By the Same. + +It has passed into a scornful proverb, that it needs good optics to see +what is not to be seen; and yet we should be inclined to say that the +first essential of a good traveller was to be gifted with eyesight of +precisely that kind. All his senses should be as delicate as eyes; and, +above all, he should be able to see with the fine eye of imagination, +compared with which all the other organs with which the mind grasps and +the memory holds are as clumsy as thumbs. The demand for this kind of +traveller and the opportunity for him increase as we learn more and more +minutely the dry facts and figures of the most inaccessible corners of +the earth's surface. There is no hope of another Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, +with his statistics of Dreamland, who makes no difficulty of impressing +"fourscore thousand rhinocerots" to draw the wagons of the King of +Tartary's army, or of killing eight hundred and fifty thousand men with +a flourish of his quill,--for what were a few ciphers to him, when his +inkhorn was full and all Christendom to be astonished?--but there is all +the more need of voyagers who give us something better than a census of +population, and who know of other exports from strange countries than +can be expressed by $----. Give us the traveller who makes us feel the +mystery of the Figure at Saïs, whose veil has a new meaning for every +beholder, rather than him who brings back a photograph of the uncovered +countenance, with its one unvarying granite story for all. There is one +glory of the Gazetteer with his fixed facts, and another of the Poet +with his variable quantities of fancy. The fixed fact may be unfixed +next year, like an almanac, but the hasty sketch of the true artist is +good forever. + +Critics have a good-natured way of stigmatizing, for the initiated, all +poetry that is not poetry, by saying that it is "elegant," "harmonious," +or, worse than all, "descriptive." This last commonly means that the +author has done for his readers precisely what they could do for +themselves,--that he has made a catalogue of the natural objects to be +found in a certain number of acres, which differs from the literary +efforts of an auctioneer only in this, that each line begins with a +capital and contains the same number of syllables. He counts the number +of cabbages in a field, of cows in a pasture, and tells us how many +times a squirrel ran up (or down) a given tree in a given time. He +informs us that the bark of the shagbark is shaggy, that the +sleep-at-noon slumbers at mid-day, that moss is apt to grow on fallen +tree-trunks in damp places,--treats us as the old alchemists do, who +give us a list of the materials out of which gold (if it had any moral +sense) would at once consent to be made, but somehow won't,--and leaves +us impressed with that very dead certainty, that things are so-and-so, +which is the result of verses that are only so-so. + +Readers of the "Atlantic" need not be told that Dr. Palmer is not a +descriptive poet of this fashion. They have known how to appreciate his +sketches of East Indian life, so vivid, picturesque, and imaginative +that they could make "Griffins" feel twinges of liver-complaint, and so +true that we have heard them pronounced "incomparable" by men familiar +with India. Dr. Palmer is no mere describer; he sees with the eye of a +poet, touches only what is characteristic, and, while he seems to +surrender himself wholly to the Circe Imagination, retains the polished +coolness of the man of the world, and the _brownness_ of the man of the +nineteenth century. He not only knows how to observe, but how to +write,--both of them accomplishments rare enough in an age when +everybody is ready to contract for their display by the column. His +style is nervous and original, not harassingly pointed like a +chestnut-burr, but full of _esprit_ or wit diffused,--that Gallic leaven +which pervades whole sentences and paragraphs with an indefinable +lightness and palatableness. It is a thoroughly American style, too, a +little over-indifferent to tradition and convention, but quite free of +the _sic-semper-tyrannis_ swagger. Uncle Bull, who is just like his +nephew in thinking that he has a divine right to the world's oyster, +cannot swallow it properly till he has donned a white choker, and +refuses to be comforted when Jonathan disposes of it in his rapid way +with the shell for a platter. We confess that we prefer the +free-and-easy manner in its proper place to the diplomatic way of always +treating the reader with sentiments of the highest consideration, and +like a book all the more for having an Occidental flavor. + +But it is not merely or chiefly as being among the cleverest and +liveliest of modern light literature that we value Dr. Palmer's books. +They have a true poetic value, and instruct as much as they entertain. +While he is telling us a San Francisco story, the truth of the +accessories and the skill with which they are grouped bring the +California of 1849 before us with unmatched vividness. We have been +getting knowledge and learning a deep moral without suspecting it, as if +by our own observation and experience. In the same way "Asirvadam the +Brahmin" is a prose poem that lets us into the secret of the Indian +revolt. It is seldom that we meet with volumes of more real power than +these, or whose force is so artistically masked under ease and +playfulness. We prefer the "Old" part of the book to the "New." It seems +to us to show a better style of handling. There is something of +melodrama in the style of the California stories,--a flavor of blue +lights and burnt cork. At the same time, we must admit that there is a +melodramatic taint in our American life:--witness the Sickles vulgarity. +Young America is _b'hoyish_ rather than boyish, and perhaps the "New" +may be all the truer to Nature for what we dislike in it. + +"The New and the Old" is fittingly dedicated to the Autocrat of all the +Breakfast-Tables, than whom no man has done more to demonstrate that wit +and mirth are not incompatible with seriousness of purpose and +incisiveness of thought. + + * * * * * + +_Napoleonic Ideas_. By Prince NAPOLEON LOUIS BONAPARTE. Translated by +JAMES A. DORR. New York: D. Appleton & Company. 1859. + +This publication has at least that merit which is one of the first in +literature,--it is timely. Though we look upon the Emperor of the French +as a kind of imperial Jonathan Wild, it does not the less concern us to +make a true estimate of his intellectual capacity. Nothing is more +unwise than to assume that a man's brain must be limited because his +moral sense is small; yet no mistake is more common. Napoleon the Third +may play an important part in History, though by no possibility an +heroic one. In reading this little volume, one cannot fail to be struck +with the presence of mind and the absence of heart of which it gives +evidence. It is the advertisement of a charlatan, whose sole inheritance +is the right to manufacture the Napoleonic pill, and we read with +unavoidable distrust the vouchers of its wonderful efficacy. We do not +fancy the Bonapartist grape-cure, nor believe in it. + +Mr. Dorr's translation is excellent. He understands French, and is able +to do it into English elegantly and accurately without any trace of +foreign idiom. This is no easy thing; for our general experience has +been that translators read French like Englishmen and write English like +Frenchmen. + + * * * * * + +_Country Life_. By R. MORRIS COPELAND. Boston: John P. Jewett & Company. +1859. + +In an article on "Farming Life in New England," published in a former +volume of the "Atlantic," a valued contributor drew attention to the +painful lack of beauty in the lives and homes of our rural population. +Some attempts were made to show that his statements were exaggerated; +but we are satisfied that they were true in all essential particulars. +The abolition of entails, (however wise in itself,) and the consequent +subdivision of estates, will always put country life, in the English +sense of the words, out of the question here. Our houses will continue +to be tents; trees, without ancestral associations, will be valued by +the cord; and that cumulative charm, the slow result of associations, of +the hereditary taste of many generations, must always be wanting. Age is +one of the prime elements of natural beauty; but among us the love of +what is new so predominates, that we have known the largest oak in a +county to be cut down by the selectmen to make room for a shanty +schoolhouse, simply because the tree was of "no account," being hollow +and gnarled, and otherwise delightfully picturesque. Our people are +singularly dead also to the value of beauty in public architecture; and +while they clear away a tree which the seasons have been two centuries +in building, they will put up with as little remorse a stone or brick +abomination that shall be a waking nightmare for a couple of centuries +to come. But selectmen are not chosen with reference to their knowledge +of Price or Ruskin. + +Mr. Copeland's book is specially adapted to the conditions of a +community like ours. Its title might have been "Rural Æsthetics for Men +of Limited Means, or the Laws of Beauty considered in their Application +to Small Estates." It is a volume happily conceived and happily +executed, and meets a palpable and increasing want of our civilization. +Whatever adds grace to the daily lives of a people, and awakens in them +a perception of the beauty of outward Nature and its healthful reaction +on the nature of man,--whatever tends to make toil unsordid, and to put +it in relations of intelligent sympathy with the beautiful progression +of the seasons,--adds incalculably to the wealth of a country, though +the increase may not appear in the Report of the Secretary of the +Interior. + +Mr. Copeland's volume is calculated to do this, and his own +qualifications for the task he has undertaken are manifold. Chief among +them we should reckon a true enthusiasm for the cause he advocates, and +a hearty delight in out-of-doors-life. He writes with the zeal and +warmth of a reformer; but these are tempered by practical knowledge, and +such a respect for the useful as will not sacrifice it to the merely +pretty. His volume contains not only suggestions in landscape-gardening, +guided always by the true principle of making Nature our ally rather +than attempting to subdue her, but minute directions for the greenhouse, +grapery, conservatory, farm, and kitchen-garden. One may learn from it +how to plant whatever grows, and to care for it afterwards. Engravings +and plans make clear whatever needs illustration. The book has also the +special merit of _not_ being adapted to the meridian of Greenwich. + +We do not always agree with Mr. Copeland; we dissent especially from his +prejudice against the noble horsechestnut-tree, with its grand +thunder-cloud of foliage, its bee-haunted cones of bloom, and its +polished fruit so uselessly useful to children,--Bushy Park is answer +enough on that score; but we cordially appreciate his taste and ability. +His book will justify a warm commendation. It is laid out on true +principles of landscape-farming. The stiff and square economical details +are relieved by passages of great beauty and picturesqueness. The +cockney who owns a snoring-privilege in the suburbs will be stimulated +to a sense of latent beauty in clouds and fields; and the farmer who +looks on the cosmic forces as mere motive-power for the wheels of his +money-mill will find the truth of the proverb, that more water runs over +the dam than the miller wots of, and learn that Nature is as lavish of +Beauty as she is frugal in Use. Even to the editor, whose only fields +are those of literature, and whose only leaves grow from a +composing-stick, the advent of a book like this is refreshing. It +enables him to lay out with a judicious economy the gardens attached to +his Spanish manor-houses, and to do his farming without risk of loss, in +the most charming way of all, (especially in July weather,)--by proxy. +Without leaving our study, we have already raised some astonishing +prize-vegetables, and our fat cattle have been approvingly mentioned in +the committee's report. We have found an afternoon's reading in Mr. +Copeland's book almost as good as owning that "place in the country" +which almost all men dream of as an ideal to be realized whenever their +visionary ship comes in. + + * * * * * + +_High Life in New York_. By JONATHAN SLICK. Philadelphia: Peterson & +Brothers. + +The advantages of a favorable introduction are very obvious. A person +who enters society fortified with eulogistic letters, giving assurance +of his trustworthiness, so far as respectability and good behavior are +concerned, is tolerably sure of a comfortable reception. But if, unable +to sustain the character his credentials ascribe to him, he immediately +begin to display bad manners, ignorance, and folly, he not only forfeits +the position to which he has gained accidental access, but also brings +discredit upon his too hasty indorser. + +In literature it is not different. The collection of printed matter +which appears under the title of "High Life in New York" is accompanied +by a note, signed by the publishers, who are naturally supposed to know +something of the real value of the works they issue, in which "editors +are forewarned that it is a volume which, for downright drollery and +hearty humor, has never had its equal in the productions of any American +pen," and are otherwise admonished in various ways calculated to inspire +lofty expectations, and to fill the mind with exalted visions of coming +joy. But when it appears, on examination, that the book is as utterly +unworthy of these elaborate commendations as any book can possibly +be,--that it is from beginning to end nothing but a dead level of +stagnant verbiage, a desolate waste of dreary platitude,--the reader +cannot but regard the publishers' ardent expressions of approbation as +going quite beyond the license allowable in preliminary puffs. + +"High Life in New York" represents a class of publications which has, of +late, in many ways, been set before the public with too great +liberality. The sole object seems to be to exhibit the "Yankee" +character in its traditional deformities of stupidity and +meanness,--otherwise denominated simplicity and shrewdness. Mr. Jonathan +Slick is in no respect different from the ordinary fabulous Yankee. An +illiterate clown he is, who, visiting New York, contrives by vice of +impudence, to interfere very seriously with certain conventionalities of +the metropolis. He overthrows, by his indomitable will, a great many +social follies. He eats soup with a knife and fork; wears no more than +one shirt a week; forces his way into ladies' chambers at unseemly +hours, to cure them of timidity; and introduces sundry other reforms, +all of which are recorded as evidences of glorious independence and a +true nobility of spirit. Sometimes he goes farther,--farther than we +care to follow him. It would be easy to show wherein he is offensive, +not to say disgusting; but we are not so disposed. It is not considered +necessary for the traveller who has dragged his way over a muddy road to +prove the nastiness of his pilgrimage by imparting the stain to our +carpets. + +In this book, as in most of its class, the Yankee dialect is employed +throughout, the author evidently believing that bad spelling and bad +grammar are the legitimate sources of New England humor. This shows that +he mistakes means for ends,--just as one who supposes that Mr. Merryman, +in the circus, must, of necessity, be funny, because he wears the motley +and his nose is painted red. The Yankee dialect is Mr. Jonathan Slick's +principal element of wit; his second is the onion. The book is redolent +of onions. That odorous vegetable breathes from every page. A woman +weeps, and onions are invoked to lend aromatic fragrance to a stale +comparison. In one place, onions and education are woven together by +some extraordinary rhetorical machinery; in another, religion is +glorified through the medium of the onion; until at last the narrative +seems to resolve itself into a nauseating nightmare, such as might +torture the brain of some unhappy dreamer in a bed of onions. + +Why such works are ever written at all, it is difficult to imagine; but +how it is, that, when written, they find publishers, is inconceivable. + + * * * * * + +_Great Auction-Sale of Slaves, at Savannah, Georgia_. New York: +Published by the American Anti-Slavery Society. + +This little pamphlet, reprinted from the columns of the "New York +Tribune," possesses a double interest. It furnishes the best and most +minute description of an auction-sale of slaves that has ever been +published; and it admirably illustrates the enterprise and prompt energy +which often distinguish the journalism of America above that of any +other country. + +The slave-sale of which it is a record took place on the second and +third days of March last, in the city of Savannah. For many reasons, it +had been looked forward to with more than usual interest. The position +of the owner, Mr. Pierce M. Butler, of Philadelphia, and the large +number (no less than four hundred and thirty-six) and superior quality +of the human chattels offered for sale, added to the importance of the +event. The "Tribune" had one of its best descriptive writers, Mr. +Mortimer Thomson, on the spot. The duty Mr. Thomson undertook was not +without danger; for a somewhat extensive notoriety as an _attaché_ of +the "Tribune" was not likely to insure him the most cordial reception at +the South. Had his presence been discovered, the temper of the people of +Savannah would speedily have betrayed itself; and had his purpose been +suspected, their wrath would assuredly have culminated in wreakages of a +nature unfavorable to his personal comfort. But with caution, and the +aid of Masonic influences, he escaped detection, and accomplished his +aim. The result of his observations was a report of considerable length, +in which every striking incident of the sale was narrated with accurate +fidelity. Although written mostly on the rail and against time, under +circumstances which would be fatal to the labors of any man not inured +by newspaper experience to all sorts of literary hardships, the style is +clear, distinct, and often eloquent. The scene and the transaction are +brought vividly to the reader's mind. The throng of eager +speculators,--the heavy-eyed and brutal drivers,--the sprightlier +representatives of Chivalry,--the unhappy slaves, abandoning hope as +they enter the mart, excepting in rare cases, where, grasping at straws, +they pray in trembling tones that their ties of love may remain +unsevered,--the operations of the sale,--the shrinking women, standing +submissively under the vile jests of the reckless crowd,--are portrayed +with all the emphasis of truth. One little episode in particular, the +love-story of Jeffrey and Dorcas, is a more affecting history than +romance can show. + +The effect of this publication in the "Tribune" was prodigious. It was +widely circulated through all the journals of the North. The +Anti-Slavery Society preserved it in a pamphlet. The ire of a good +portion of the Southern journals was ludicrous to witness, and proved +how keenly the blow was felt. The report was republished in Great +Britain,--first in the London "Times," and subsequently, as a pamphlet, +in Edinburgh, in Glasgow, and in Belfast. In one publisher's +announcement, at least, it was advertised as "Greeley's Account of the +Great Slave-Sale." + + * * * * * + +_Popular Tales from the Norse_. By GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L. With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. lxix., 379. + +The tales of which this volume presents the first English +translation--though, as regards some of them, hardly the first English +version--appear to have been collected about twenty or twenty-five years +ago. Two gentlemen, Messrs. Asbjörnsen and Moe, (the name of the first +of whom begets much confidence in his ability for the task,) went out +among the most unlettered and rudest of the common folk of Norway and +Sweden, and there, from the lips of old women and little children, +gathered these stories of the antique time. Of what age the stories are, +nobody knows,--those who listened to them in their childhood, to relate +them in turn in their declining years, least perhaps of all. For they +are a part of the inheritance common to all the races that have sprung +from the Asiatic ancestor, who, at periods the nearest of which is far +beyond the ken of history, and at intervals of centuries, sent off +descendants to find a resting-place in Europe; and it is one great +object, if not the principal object, of the original collectors and the +translator of these tales to exhibit in them a bond of union among all +European peoples. + +Indeed, the tales in their present form may be regarded as examples in +point appended to the translator's Essay which opens the volume. For +they will add little to our stock of available stories, for either +youthful or adult reading. The best of them already are a part of our +nursery lore, and are known to the English race under forms better +adapted to English taste and sympathies than those under which they are +here presented; and nearly all of those that are exceptions to this +remark are unfitted for "home consumption," either by the objectionable +nature of their subjects, by the still more objectionable tendency of +their teaching, or by a yet more fatal demerit,--their lack of interest. +They are in some respects notably tame and puerile,--with a puerility +which is not childish simplicity, but a lack of inventive fancy, and +which exhibits itself in bald repetition. The giant, for instance, +always complains of a smell of Christian blood, and is always answered +by the formula, that a crow flew over the chimney and must have dropped +a bone down it; the hero almost always meets three old women, or three +Trolls, or three enchanted beasts or birds, of whom he in that case +always asks the same questions, receiving the same replies, _verbatim_. +There is a reason for this sameness, which is indicative of the rude +condition of the people among whom the tales have been perpetuated; but +the sameness palls none the less upon more cultivated minds. Mr. Dasent +characterizes these people as "an honest and manly race,--not the race +of the towns and cities, but of the dales and fells, free and unsubdued, +holding its own in a country where there are neither lords nor ladies, +but simple men and women. Brave men and fair women," etc. (p. lxviii.) +And he says of the tales, that in no other collection is "the general +tone so chaste, are the great principles of morality better worked out, +and right and wrong kept so steadily in sight." (p. lxii.) We cannot +agree with him in this appreciation of the moral tone of the stories, +many of which certainly speak ill for the honesty and manliness of the +race among which they have been for centuries cherished +household-treasures. For in a large proportion of those that have a +successful hero, he obtains his success either by lying or some kind of +deceit or treachery, by stealing, or by imposing upon the credulity or +feebleness of age; and of those in which the hero is himself victorious +over oppression, we are not able to recollect one which exhibits the +beauty of moderation and magnanimity, not to say of Christian charity +and forgiveness. Mr. Dasent mentions it as an admirable trait of the +tales, that, "in the midst of every difficulty and danger, arises that +old Norse feeling of making the best of everything and keeping a good +face to the foe." Certainly the heroes of these tales do make the best +of everything, but they are not at all scrupulous as to their way of +making it; and they do also keep a good face to the foe, when (often by +craft, theft, or violence) they have obtained some implement or other +gift of supernatural power which places their opponents entirely at +their mercy and with no risk to themselves. But of a manful contest on +equal terms, or of a victory obtained over tyrannous power by a union of +patience, boldness, and honest skill, or even by undegrading stratagem, +the collection affords no instance that we remember. + +The story of Shortshanks may be taken as a fair, and even a favorable +example of the tone of these Norse tales. Shortshanks and King Sturdy +are twin brothers, who set out to seek their fortunes within a few +minutes of their birth, driven thereto by a precocious perception of the +_res angustæ domi_. They part at two roads almost immediately, and the +story follows the fortunes of Shortshanks, the younger; for in these +miniature romances the elder is, as usual, continually snubbed, and the +younger is always the great man. Shortshanks has not gone far before he +meets "an old crook-backed hag," who has only one eye; and he commences +his career by gouging out or "snapping up" the single comfort of this +helpless creature. To get her eye back again, she gives Shortshanks a +sword that will put a whole army to flight; and he, charmed with the +result of his first manoeuvre, puts it in practice successively upon two +other decrepit, half-blind women, who, to get their eyes again, give +him, one, a ship that can sail over fresh water and salt water and over +high hills and deep dales, the other, the art how to brew a hundred +lasts of malt at one strike. The ship takes him to the king's palace, on +arriving at which he puts his vessel in his pocket, when he summons his +craft to his aid, and gets a place in the king's kitchen to carry wood +and water for the maid. The king's daughter has for some inscrutable +reason been promised to three ogres, who come successively to fetch her; +and a certain Ritter Red professes to be man enough to rescue her, but +on the approach of the first ogre proves to be a coward and climbs a +tree. But Shortshanks slips off from his scullery; and having a weapon +which can put a whole army to flight by a single stroke, he is very +brave, and keeps a remarkably good face to the foe, giving him with his +tongue as good as he sends, and, laughing the ogres' dubs to scorn, cuts +off the ogrous heads, (there are five on the first individual, ten on +the second, and fifteen on the third,) and carries off much treasure +from the ships in which his foes came to fetch their victim. Ritter Red +descends, and takes the lungs and the tongues of the ogres, (though, as +the latter were thirty in number and of gigantic size, he must have had +trouble in carrying them,) and wishes to pass them off as evidence that +he is the deliverer of the princess, of which they would seem to have +been very satisfactory proof: but the gold, silver, and diamonds carry +the day; Shortshanks has the princess and half the kingdom, and Ritter +Red is thrown into a pit full of snakes,--on the French general's +principle, we suppose, who hung his cowards "_pour encourager les +autres_." But the king has another daughter, whom an ogre has carried +off to the bottom of the sea. Shortshanks discovers her while the ogre +is out looking for a man who can brew a hundred lasts of malt at one +strike. He finds the man at home, of course, and puts him to his task. +Shortshanks gets the ogre and all his kith and kin to help the brew, and +brews the wort so strong, that, on tasting it, they all fall down dead, +except one, an old woman, "who lay bed-ridden in the chimney-corner," +and to her our hero carries his wort and kills her too. He then carries +off the treasure of the ogres, and gives this princess and the other +half of the kingdom to his brother Sturdy. + +Now we have no particular fault to find with such stories as these, when +they are produced as characteristic specimens of the folk-lore of a +people; as such, they have a value beside their intrinsic interest;--but +when we are asked to receive them as part of the evidence that that +people is an honest and manly race, and as an acceptable addition to our +stock of household tales, we demur. The truth is, that the very worth of +these tales is to be found not only in the fact that they form a part of +the stock from which our own are derived, but in the other fact that +they represent that stock as it existed at an earlier and ruder stage of +humanitarian development. They were told by savage mothers to savage +children; and although some of them teach the few virtues common to +barbarism and civilization, they are filled with the glorification of +savage vice and crime;--deceit, theft, violence, even ruthless vengeance +upon a cruel parent, are constantly practised by the characters which +they hold up to favor. Such humor as they have, too, is of the coarsest +kind, and is expressed chiefly in rude practical jokes, or the bloody +overreaching of the poor thick-headed Trolls, who are the butts of the +stories and the victims of their heroes. There is good ethnological and +mythological reason why the Trolls should be butts and victims, it is +true; but that is not to the present purpose. + +But although this judgment must be passed upon the collection, +considered merely as tales to be told and read at this stage of the +world's progress, there are several notable exceptions to it,--tales +which are based upon healthy instincts, and which appeal to sympathies +that are never entirely undeveloped in the breasts of human beings above +the grade of Bushmen, or in which the fun does not depend upon the +exhibition of unexpected modes of inflicting death, pain, or discomfort. +It is not, however, in these that we are to look for the chief +attraction and compensating value of the collection. Those are to be +found, as we have already hinted, in the relative aspects of the tales, +which the general reader might consider for a long time fruitlessly, +save for the help of Mr. Dasent's Introductory Essay. This is at once an +acute and learned commentary upon the tales themselves, and a thoroughly +elaborated monograph upon mythology in its ethnological relations. We +know no other essay upon this subject that is so comprehensive, so +compact, so clear, and so well adapted to interest intelligent readers +who have little previous knowledge on the subject, as Mr. Dasent's, +although, of necessity, it presents us with results, not processes. A +perusal of this Essay will give the intelligent and attentive reader so +just a general notion of the last results of philological and +ethnological investigation into the history of the origin and progress +of the Indo-European races, that he can listen with understanding to the +conversation of men who have made that subject their special study, and +appreciate, in a measure at least, the value of the many references to +it which he meets in the course of his miscellaneous reading. And should +he be led by the contagion of Mr. Dasent's intelligent enthusiasm to +desire a more intimate acquaintance with a topic which rarely fails to +fascinate those whose tastes lead them to enter at all upon it, he may +start from this Essay with hints as to the plan and purpose of his +reading which will save him much otherwise blind and fruitless labor. + +This, however, is not all. It is but right also to say that the readers +whose religion is one of extreme orthodoxy, that is, who deem it their +bounden duty to believe exactly and literally as somebody else believed +before them,--such readers will find their orthodoxy often shocked by +the tales which Mr. Dasent has translated, and yet oftener and more +violently by conclusions which Mr. Dasent draws from a comparison of +these stories with others that bear the same relation to other races +which these do to the Norsemen. The man who believes that Hell is a +particular part of the universe, filled with flames and melted +brimstone, into which actual devils, with horns, hoofs, and tails, dip, +or are to dip, wicked people, whom, for greater convenience, they have +previously perforated with three-tined pitchforks,--such a man will be +puzzled by the story, "Why the Sea is Salt," and horrified with this +comment in Mr. Dasent's Essay:-- + + "The North had its own notion on this point. Its mythology + was not without its own dark powers; but though they, too, + were ejected and dispossessed, they, according to that + mythology, had rights of their own. To them belonged all the + universe that had not been seized and reclaimed by the + younger race of Odin and Æsir; and though this upstart + dynasty, as the Frost-Giants in Æschylean phrase would have + called it, well knew that Hel, one of this giant progeny, was + fated to do them all mischief, and to outlive them, they took + her and made her queen of Niflheim, and mistress over nine + worlds. There, in a bitterly cold place, she received the + souls of all who died of sickness or old age; care was her + bed, hunger her dish, starvation her knife. Her walls were + high and strong, and her bolts and bars huge. 'Half blue was + her skin, and half the color of human flesh. A goddess easy + to know, and in all things very stern and grim.' But though + severe, she was not an evil spirit. She only received those + who died as no Norseman wished to die. For those who fell on + the gory battle-field, or sank beneath the waves, Valhalla + was prepared, and endless mirth and bliss with Odin. Those + went to Hel who were rather unfortunate than wicked, who died + before they could be killed. But when Christianity came in + and ejected Odin and his crew of false divinities, declaring + them to be lying gods and demons, then Hel fell with the + rest,--but, fulfilling her fate, outlived them. From a person + she became a place; and all the Northern nations, from the + Goth to the Norseman, agreed in believing Hell to be the + abode of the Devil and his wicked spirits, the place prepared + from the beginning for the everlasting torments of the + damned. One curious fact connected with this explanation of + Hell's origin will not escape the reader's attention. The + Christian notion of Hell is that of a place of heat; for in + the East, whence Christianity came, heat is often an + intolerable torment,--and cold, on the other hand, everything + that is pleasant and delightful. But to the dweller in the + North heat brings with it sensations of joy and comfort, and + life without fire has a dreary outlook; so their Hel ruled in + a cold region, over those who were cowards by implication, + while the mead-cup went round, and huge logs blazed and + crackled, for the brave and beautiful who had dared to die on + the field of battle. But under Christianity the extremes of + heat and cold have met, and Hel, the cold, uncomfortable + goddess, is now our Hell, where flames and fires abound, and + where the devils abide in everlasting flame." + +Still more will orthodoxy be shocked by Mr. Dasent's neglect to except +Christianity from the conclusion, (no new one, it need hardly be said, +to those who know anything of the subject,) that the mythologies or +personal histories of all religions have been evolved the one from the +other, or grafted the one upon the other,--and by his intimation, that +Christianity, keeping pure in its spirit and undiverted from its +purpose, has yet not hesitated to adapt its outward forms to the tough +popular traditions which it found deeply rooted in the soil where it +sought to grow, thus making itself "all things to all men, that it might +by all means save some." + +It will be seen that this book is not milk for babes, but meat for +strong men. Among the tales are some--and those, perhaps, the most +interesting--which Mr. Dasent justly characterizes as "intensely +heathen," and yet in which the Saviour of the world or his apostles +appear as interlocutors or actors, which alone unfits the volume for the +book-table of the household room. We are led to insist upon this trait +of the collection the more, because the translator's choice of language +often seems to be the result of a desire to adapt himself to very +youthful readers,--though why should even they be led to believe that +such phrases as the following are correct by seeing them in +print?--"Tore it up like nothing"; "ran away like anything"; "it was no +good" [_i.e._ of no use]; "in all my born days"; "after a bit" [_i.e._ a +little while]; "she had to let him in, and when he was, he lay," etc.; +"the Giant got up cruelly early." These, and others like them, are +profusely scattered through the tales, apparently from the mistaken +notion that they have some idiomatic force. They jar upon the ear of the +reader who comes to them from Mr. Dasent's admirably written +Introductory Essay. + +The book is one which we can heartily recommend to all who are +interested in popular traditions for their own sake, or in their +ethnological relations. + + * * * * * + +_Love_, From the French of M.J. Michelet. Translated from the Fourth +Paris Edition, by J.W. Palmer, M.D., Author of "The New and The Old," +"Up and Down the Irawaddi," etc. + +M. Michelet perhaps longs, like Anacreon, to tell the story of the +Atrides and of Cadmus, but here we find him singing only of Love. It is +a surprise to us that the historian should have chosen this +subject;--the book itself is another surprise. It starts from a few +facts which it borrows from science, and out of them it builds a +poem,--a drama in five acts called _Books_, to disguise them. Two +characters figure chiefly on the stage,--a husband and a wife. The unity +of time is not very strictly kept, for the pair are traced from youth to +age, and even beyond their mortal years. Moral reflections and +occasional rhapsodies are wreathed about this physiological and +psychological love-drama. + +Here, then, is a book with the most taking word in the language for its +title, and one of the most distinguished personages in contemporary +literature for its author. It has been extensively read in France, and +is attracting general notice in this country. Opinions are divided among +us concerning it; it is extravagantly praised, and hastily condemned. + +On the whole, the book is destined, we believe, to do much more good +than harm. Admit all its high-flown sentimentalism to be +half-unconscious affectation, such as we pardon in writers of the Great +Nation,--admit that the author is wild and fanciful in many of his +statements, that he talks of a state of society of which it has been +said that the law is that a man shall hate his neighbor and love his +neighbor's wife,--admit all this and what lesser faults may be added to +them, its great lessons are on the side of humanity, and especially of +justice to woman, founded on a study of her organic and spiritual +limitations. + +_Woman is an invalid_. This is the first axiom, out of which flow the +precepts of care, bodily and mental, of tenderness, of consideration, +with which the book abounds. To show this, M. Michelet has recourse to +the investigations of the physiologists who during the present century +have studied the special conditions which according to the old axiom +make woman what she is. As nothing short of this can by any possibility +enable us to understand the feminine nature, we must not find fault with +some details not commonly thought adapted to the general reader. They +are given delicately, but they are given, and suggest a certain reserve +in introducing the book to the reading classes. Not only is woman an +invalid, but the _rhythmic character of her life_, "as if scanned by +Nature," is an element not to be neglected without total failure to read +her in health and in disease. There is a great deal relating to this +matter, some of it seeming fanciful and overwrought, but not more so +than the natures of many women. For woman herself is an hyperbole, and +the plainest statement of her condition is a figure of speech. Some of +those chapters that are written, as we might say, in hysteric +paragraphs, only more fitly express the extravagances which belong to +the nervous movements of the woman's nature. + +_The husband must create the wife_. Much of the book is taken up with +the precepts by which this new birth of the woman is to be brought +about, M. Michelet's "entire affection" hateth those "nicer hands" winch +would refuse any, even the humblest offices. The husband should be at +once nurse and physician. He should regulate the food of the body, and +measure out the doses of mental nourishment. All this is kind and good +and affectionate; but there is just a suspicion excited that _Madame_ +might become slightly _ennuyée_, if she were subjected to this minute +surveillance over her physical and spiritual hygiene. Everything must +depend on individual tendencies and aptitudes; we have known husbands +that were born for nurses,--and others, not less affectionate, that +worried more than they helped in that capacity. + +We cannot follow M. Michelet through his study of the reaction of the +characters of the husband and wife upon each other, of the influence of +maternity on conjugal relations, of the languishing of love and its +rejuvenescence. Still less can we do more than remotely allude to those +chapters in which his model woman is represented as ready on the +slightest occasion to prove the name of her sex synonymous with frailty. +We really do not know what to make of such things. The cool calculations +of temptation as certain, and failure as probable,--the serious advice +not to strike a wife under any circumstances,--such words have literally +no meaning to most of our own American readers. Our women are educated +to self-reliance,--and our men are, at least, too busy for the trade of +tempters. + +In a word, this book was written for French people, and is adjusted to +the meridian of Paris. We must remember this always in reading it, and +also remember that a Frenchman does not think English any more than he +_talks_ it. We sometimes flatter ourselves with the idea that we as a +people are original in our tendency to extravagance of thought and +language. It is a conceit of ours. Remember Sterne's _perruquier_. + +"'You may immerge it,' replied he, 'into the ocean, and it will stand.' + +"'What a great scale is everything upon, in this city!' thought I. 'The +utmost stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas could have gone no +farther than to have dipped it into a pail of water.'" + + * * * * * + +How much such experiences as the following amount to we must leave to +the ecclesiastical bodies to settle. + +"The Church is openly against her, [woman,] owing her a grudge for the +sin of Eve." + +"It is very easy for us, educated in the religion of the indulgent God +of Nature, to look our common destiny in the face. But she, impressed +with the dogma of eternal punishment, though she may have received other +ideas from you, still, in her suffering and debility, has painful +foreshadowings of the future state." + +But here are physiological statements which we take the liberty to +question on our own responsibility. + +"A French girl of fifteen is as mature as an English one of eighteen." +What will Mr. Roberton of Manchester, who has exploded so many of our +fancies about the women of the East, say to this? + +"A wound, for which the German woman would require surgical aid, in the +French woman cures itself." We must say of such an unproved assertion as +the French General said of the charge at Balaklava,--"_C'est magnifique, +mais ce n'est pas la_"--_médecine_. + +"Generally, she [woman] is sick from love,--man, from indigestion." What +a pity Nature never makes such pretty epigrams with her facts as wits do +with their words! + +We have enough, too, of that self-assertion which Carlyle and Ruskin and +some of our clerical neighbors have made us familiar with, and which +gives flavor to a work of genius. "I was worth more than my writings, +more than my discourses. I brought to this teaching of philosophy and +history a soul as yet entire,--a great freshness of mind, under forms +often subtle,--a true simplicity of heart," etc. + +M. Michelet does not undervalue the importance of his work. He thinks he +has ruined the dancing-gardens by the startling revelations respecting +woman contained in his book. He announces a still greater triumph:--"I +believe I have effectually suppressed old women. They will no longer be +met with." M. Michelet has not seen the columns of some of our weekly +newspapers. + +These are scales from the husk of his book, which, with all its +fantasies, is a generous plea for woman. Wise persons may safely read +it, though they be not Parisians. + +The translation is, and is generally considered, excellent. We notice +two errors,--_Jerres_, instead of _Serres_,--and _would_, for _should_, +after the Scotch and Southern provincial fashion;--with some +questionable words, as _reliable_, for which we have Sir Robert Peel's +authority, which cannot make it as honest a word as _trustworthy_,-- +_masculize_, which is at least intelligible,--and _fast_, used as +college-boys use it in their loose talk, but not with the meaning which +sober scholars are wont to give it. With these slight exceptions, the +translation appears to us singularly felicitous, notwithstanding the +task must have been very difficult, which Dr. Palmer has performed with +such rare success. + + * * * * * + +_Farm-Drainage_. The Principles, Processes, and Effects of Draining +Land, with Wood, Stones, Ploughs, and Open Ditches, and especially with +Tiles; including Tables of Rainfall, Evaporation, Filtration, +Excavation, Capacity of Pipes; Cost, and Number to the Acre, of Tiles, +etc., etc.; and more than One Hundred Illustrations. By HENRY E. FRENCH. +New York: A.O. Moore & Co. 1859. 8vo. pp. 384. + +We remember standing, thirty years ago, upon the cupola of a court-house +in New Jersey, and, while enjoying the whole panorama, being +particularly impressed with the superior fertility and luxuriance of one +farm on the outskirts of the town. We recollect further, that, on +inquiry, we found this farm to belong to a Judge of the Court of Common +Pleas, who also exercised the trade of a potter, and underdrained his +land with tile-drains. His neighbors attributed the improvement in his +farm to manure and tillage, and thought his attempts to introduce +tile-drains into use arose chiefly from his desire to make a market for +his tiles. Thirty years have made a great change; and a New Hampshire +Judge of the Court of Common Pleas gives us a book on Farm-Drainage +which tells us that in England twenty millions of dollars have been +loaned by the government to be used in underdraining with tile! + +We believe that Judge French has given the first practical guide in +draining to the American farmer,--indeed, the first book professing to +be a complete practical guide to the farmers of any country. His right +to speak is derived from successful experiments of his own, from a visit +to European agriculturists, and from a personal correspondence with the +best drainage-engineers of England and America, as well as from the +study of all available magazines and journals. No one could handle the +subject in a more pleasant and lucid style; flashes of wit, and even of +humor, are sparkling through every chapter, but they never divert the +mind of the reader from the main purpose of elucidating the subject of +deep drainage. The title-page does not promise so much as the book +performs; and we feel confident that its reputation will increase, as +our farmers begin to understand the true effects of deep drainage on +upland, and seek for a guide in the improvement of their farms. + +The rain-tables, furnished by Dr. E. Hobbs, of Waltham, afford some very +interesting statistics, by which our climate may be definitely compared +with that of our mother country. In England, they have about 156 rainy +days _per annum_, and we but 56. In England, one inch in 24 hours is +considered a great rain; but in New England six inches and seven-eighths +(6.88) has been known to fall in 24 hours. In England, the annual fall +is about 21,--in New England, 42 inches. The experiments on the +retention of water by the soil are also interesting; showing that +ordinary arable soil is capable of holding nearly six inches of water in +every foot of soil. + +Not the least valuable portion of the book is a brief discussion of some +of the legal questions connected with drainage; the rights of +land-owners in running waters, and in reference to the water in the +soil; the rights of mill-owners and water-power companies; and the +subject of flowage, by which so many thousand acres of valuable arable +land are ruined to support unprofitable manufacturing companies. The +rights of agriculturists, and the interests of agriculture, demand the +care of our governments, and the hearty aid of our scientific men; and +we are glad to find a judge who, at least when off the bench, speaks +sound words in their behalf. + +Agriculture in the Atlantic States is beginning to attract the attention +which its great importance demands. Thorough draining is, as yet, little +used among us, but a beginning has been made; and Judge French's book +will, doubtless, be of value in extension of the practice. If any reader +has not yet heard what thorough draining is, we would say, in brief, +that it consists in laying tile-pipes, from one and a half to three +inches in diameter, four feet under ground, at from twenty to sixty feet +apart, so inclined as to drain out of your ground all the water that may +be within three feet of the surface. This costs from $30 to $60 per +acre, and is in almost all kinds of arable land an excellent investment +of capital,--making the spring earlier, the land warmer, rain less +injurious, drought less severe, the crops better in quality and greater +in quantity. In short, thorough draining is, as our author says, +following Cromwell's advice, "trusting in Providence, but keeping the +powder dry." + + * * * * * + +_The Novels of James Fenimore Cooper_. Illustrated with Steel Engravings +from Drawings by Darley. New York: W.A. Townsend & Co. + +The British Museum, it is said, has accumulated over twenty-seven +thousand novels written since the publication of "Waverley." With the +general diffusion of education the ambition of authorship has had a +corresponding increase; and people who were not inspired to make rhymes, +nor learned enough to undertake history, philosophy, or science, as well +as those who despaired of success in essays, travels, or sermons, have +all thought themselves capable of representing human life in the form of +fiction. Very few of the twenty-seven thousand, probably, are wholly +destitute of merit. Each author has drawn what he saw, or knew, or did, +or imagined; and so has preserved something worthy, for those who live +upon his plane and see the world with his eyes. The difficulty is, that +the vision of most men is limited; they observe human nature only in a +few of its many aspects; they cannot so far lift themselves above the +trivial affairs around them as to take in the whole of humanity at a +glance. Even when rare types of character are presented to view, it is +only a genius who can for the time assimilate himself to them, and so +make their portraits life-like upon his canvas. In every old-fashioned +town there are models for new Dogberrys and Edie Ochiltrees; our +seaports have plenty of Bunsbys; every great city has its Becky Sharpe +and Major Pendennis. One has only to listen to a group of Irish laborers +in their unrestrained talk to find that the delicious _non sequitur_, +which is the charm of the grave-diggers' conversation in "Hamlet," is by +no means obsolete. But who can write such a colloquy? It would be +easier, we fancy, for a clever man to give a sketch of Lord Bacon, with +all his rapid and profound generalization, than to follow the slow and +tortuous mental processes of a clodhopper. + +To secure the attention of his readers, the novelist must construct a +plot and create the characters whose movements shall produce the +designed catastrophe, and, by the incidents and dialogue, exhibit the +passions, the virtues, the aspirations, the weaknesses, and the villany +of human nature. It is needless to say that most characters in fiction +are as shadowy as Ossian's ghosts; the proof is, that, when the +incidents of the story have passed out of memory, the persons are +likewise forgotten. Of all the popular novelists, not more than half a +dozen have ever created characters that survive,--characters that are +felt to be "representative men." After Shakspeare and Scott, Dickens +comes first, unquestionably; although, in analysis, philosophy, force, +and purity of style, he is far inferior to Thackeray. Parson Adams will +not be forgotten, nor that gentle monogamist, the good Vicar of +Wakefield. But as for Bulwer, notwithstanding his wonderful art in +construction and the brilliancy of his style, who remembers a character +out of his novels, unless it be Doctor Riccabocca? + +After this rather long preamble, let us hasten to say, that Cooper, in +spite of many and the most obvious faults, has succeeded in portraying a +few characters which stand out in bold relief,--and that his works, +after years of criticism and competition, still hold their place, on +both continents, among the most delightful novels in the language. Other +writers have appeared, with more culture, with more imagination, with +more spiritual insight, with more attractiveness of style; but +Leatherstocking, in the virgin forest, with the crafty, painted savage +retreating before him, and the far-distant hum of civilization following +his trail, is a creation which no reader ever can or would forget,--a +creation for which the merely accomplished writer would gladly exchange +all the fine sentences and word-pictures that he had ever put on paper. +It is also due to Cooper to say, that "The Pilot" was the first, and +still is the best, of nautical novels; we say this in fell recollection +of its trace of stupid heroines. The very air of the book is salt. As +you read, you hear the wind in the rigging,--a sound that one never +forgets. The form and motion of waves, the passing of distant ships, the +outlines of spars and cordage against the sky, the blue above and the +blue below, all the scenery of the sea, here for the first time found an +appreciative artist. + +We have not space to mention these novels separately. We are glad to see +an edition which is worthy of the author's genius,--each volume graced +with the designs of Darley. The style in which the work has been issued +is creditable to the publishers, and cannot fail to be remunerative. + + * * * * * + +_Ettore Fieramosca; or, the Challenge of Barletta_. The Struggles of an +Italian against Foreign Invaders and Foreign Protectors. By MASSIMO D' +AZEGLIO. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 16mo. + +The recent war led to the publication of a great number of books upon +the state of Italy and the relative positions of the contending powers; +now that the wave has receded, all these are left high and dry. This +novel, however, does not depend upon any transient interest in the +affairs of Italy for its success. As the production of an eminent +author, who is also one of the first of Italian statesmen, it demands a +respectful consideration. The condition of the country in the sixteenth +century presents a striking counterpart to that of the present year: two +foreign monarchs were at war in the Peninsula; and then, as now, it was +a question whether unhappy Italy had not as much to fear from her allies +as from her invaders. + +The scene of the story is laid in the little town of Barletta, on the +Adriatic coast, in the present kingdom of Naples. The action turns upon +the fortunes of the day in a contest _à l'outrance_, wherein a dozen +French knights, the flower of the invading army, were met and vanquished +by an equal number of Italians, of whom the hero, Ettore Fieramosca, was +the chief. The English reader will not expect to find in this book any +of the traits with which he is familiar in the novels of our own +authors. There is little scenery-painting, few wayside reflections, and +no attempt at portraying the comic side of human nature, or even the +ordinary gayety of domestic life. The times did not suggest such topics; +and if they did, we suspect that the Italian novelists would turn from +such commonplace affairs to the more stirring events with which History +has been heretofore concerned. But the story before us has no lack of +incident. When the persons of the drama are fairly brought upon the +stage, the action begins at once; surprise follows surprise, plot is +matched by plot, until the fortunes of the actors are entwined +inextricably. The portraits of the famous Colonna and of the infamous +Cæsar Borgia (the latter being the arch "villain" of the story) are +drawn in sharp and decisive lines. The tournament which forms the scene +of the catastrophe is a brilliant picture, though not a pleasing one for +a Friend or a member of the Peace Society. + +Of course the element of Love is not wanting; two golden threads run +through the crimsoned web; but whether they meet before Atropos comes +with the fatal shears, it is not best to say. When the modern +novel-reader can answer the momentous question, "Did they marry?" the +charm of the most exciting story, for him, is gone. + +Aside from the interest which one feels in the changing fortunes of the +hero, the book is especially valuable for the light it throws upon that +period of Italian history, and upon the subtilties of Italian character. + + + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS. + + +The Goodness of God. Sermons by Charles Kingsley. New York. Burt, +Hutchinson, & Abbey. 12mo. pp. 370. $1.00. + +Theodore Parker's Experience as a Minister; with some Account of his +Early Life and Education for the Ministry. Contained in a Letter from +him to the Members of the Twenty-Eighth Congregationalist Society of +Boston. Boston. Rufus Leighton, Jr. 16mo. pp. 182. 50 cts. + +The Roman Question. By E. About. Translated from the French, by H.C. +Coape. New York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 219. 60 cts. + +Tent and Harem. Notes of an Oriental Trip. By Caroline Paine. New York. +D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 300. $1.00. + +The French Revolution of 1789, as viewed in the Light of Republican +Institutions. By J.S.C. Abbott. With One Hundred Engravings. New York. +Harper & Brothers. 8vo. pp. 439. $2.50. + +Popular Tales from the Norse. By George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L. With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 379. $1.00. + +Personal Recollections of the American Revolution. A Private Journal. +Prepared from Authentic Domestic Records. Together with Reminiscences of +Washington and Lafayette. Edited by Sidney Barclay. New York. Rudd & +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 251. $1.00. + +Hartley Norman. A Tale of the Times. By Allen Hampden. New York. Rudd & +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 429. $1.25. + +The Science of Education and Art of Teaching. In Two Parts. By John +Ogden, A.M. Cincinnati. Moore, Wilstach, & Keys. 12mo. pp. 478. $1.25. + +Observations on the Growth of the Mind. By Sampson Reed. Fifth Edition. +Boston. Crosby, Nichols, & Co. 16mo. pp. 99. 50 cts. + +Italy and the War of 1859. With Biographical Notices of Sovereigns, +Statesmen, and Military Commanders; Description and Statistics of the +Country; Causes of the War, etc. By Julia de Marguerittes. With an +Introduction, by Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie. With Map and Portraits. +Philadelphia. Geo. G. Evans. 12mo. pp. 359. $1.25. + +Here and Beyond; or, The New Man, the True Man. By Hugh Smith Carpenter. +New York. Mason Brothers. 12mo. pp. 345. $1.00. + +Temper. A Novel. By Miss Marryatt. (Daughter of Captain Marryatt.) New +York. Dick and Fitzgerald. 12mo. pp. 365. $1.00. + +Shelley Memorials: from Authentic Sources. Edited by Lady Shelley. To +which is added an Essay on Christianity, by Percy Bysshe Shelley: now +first Printed. Boston. Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 308. 75 cts. + +Sparks from a Locomotive; or, Life and Liberty in Europe. By the Author +of "Belle Brittan." New York. Derby & Jackson. 12mo. pp. 305. $1.00. + +The Life of General Garibaldi. Written by Himself. With Sketches of his +Companions in Arms. Translated by his Friend and Admirer, Theodore +Dwight. Embellished with a Fine Portrait, engraved on Steel. New York. +A.S. Barnes & Burr. 12mo. pp. 820. $1.00. + +Ettore Fieramosca; or, The Challenge of Barletta. The Struggles of an +Italian against Foreign Invaders and Foreign Protectors. By Massimo +d'Azeglio. Boston. Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 16mo. pp. 356. $1.00. + +Idyls of the King. By Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet Laureate. Boston. +Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 227. 75 cts. + +Lectures for the People. By the Rev. Hugh Stowell Brown, of Liverpool. +First Series. With a Biographical Introduction, by Dr. Shelton +Mackenzie. Authorized Edition. Philadelphia. G.G. Evans. 12mo. pp. 414. +$1.26. + +The Roman Question. Translated from the French of Edmund About, by Mrs. +Annie T. Wood. Edited, with an Introduction, by Rev. E.N. Kirk, D.D. +Boston. J.E. Tilton & Co. 16mo. pp. 308. 60 cts. + +The Pilot. A Tale of the Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper. Illustrated from +Drawings by F.O.C. Darley. New York. W.A. Townsend & Co. crown 8vo. pp. +486. $1.50. + +The Mathematical Monthly for July and August. Cambridge. John Bartlett. + +From Dawn to Daylight; or, The Simple Story of a Western Home. By a +Minister's Wife. New York. Derby & Jackson. 12mo. pp. 339. $1.00. + +A System of Surgery; Pathological, Diagnostic, Therapeutic, and +Operative. By Samuel D. Gross, M.D., Professor of Surgery in the +Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia, etc. Illustrated by Nine +Hundred and Thirty-Six Illustrations, a Large Number of which are from +Original Drawings. Philadelphia. Blanchard & Lea. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 1162, +1198. $12.00. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 4, No. +23, September, 1859, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME *** + +***** This file should be named 16430-8.txt or 16430-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/3/16430/ + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Jon +King and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 4, No. 23, September, 1859 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 4, 2005 [EBook #16430] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Jon +King and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1> + +<h2>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</h2> + +<h2>VOL. IV.—SEPTEMBER, 1859.—NO. XXIII.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='2' summary=''> + <tr><td><a href='#ARY_SCHEFFER'><b><span class="smcap">The Life and Works of Ary Scheffer</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#MARTHAS_VINEYARD'><b><span class="smcap">A Visit to Martha's Vineyard</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#THE_ELEUSINIA'><b><span class="smcap">The Eleusinia</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#THE_MINISTER'><b><span class="smcap">The Minister's Wooing</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#ONCE_AND_NOW'><b><span class="smcap">Once and Now</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#CUBA'><b><span class="smcap">A Trip to Cuba</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#ZELMAS_VOW'><b><span class="smcap">Zelma's Vow</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#INNOCENTS'><b><span class="smcap">The Murder of the Innocents</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#MY_DOUBLE'><b><span class="smcap">My Double; and How He Undid Me</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#THE_SINGER'><b><span class="smcap">The Singer</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#THE_PROFESSOR'><b><span class="smcap">The Professor at the Breakfast-Table</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#REVIEWS'><b><span class="smcap">Reviews and Literary Notices</span></b></a></td></tr> + <tr><td><a href='#PUBLICATIONS'><b><span class="smcap">Recent American Publications</span></b></a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3><a name="ARY_SCHEFFER" id="ARY_SCHEFFER" /><span class='smcap'>The Life and Works of Ary Scheffer.</span></h3> + + +<p>No painter of this age has made so deep an impression on the popular +mind of America as Ary Scheffer. Few, if any other contemporary artists +are domesticated at our firesides, and known and loved in our remotest +villages and towns. Only a small number, indeed, of his original works +have been exhibited here,—yet engravings from them are not only +familiar to every person of acknowledged taste and culture, but are dear +to the hearts of many who scarcely know the artist's name. Young maidens +delight in their tender pathos, and the suffering heart is consoled and +elevated by their pure and lofty religious aspiration. An effect so +great must have an adequate and peculiar cause; and we shall not have +far to seek for it, but shall find it in the aim and character of the +artist. Scheffer has two prominent qualities, by which he has won his +place in the popular estimation. The first is his sentiment. His works +are full of simple, tender pathos. His pictures always tell their story, +first to the eye, next to the heart and soul of the beholder. His +admirable knowledge of composition is always subordinate to expression. +His meaning is not merely historical or poetical, but is true to life +and every-day experience. "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie" is felt and +appreciated by those who have never sung,</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +"Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühen,"— +</p> + +<p>and "Faust" and "Margaret" tell their story to all who have felt life's +struggles and temptations, whether they have read them in Goethe's +version or not. Added to this power of pathos and sentiment is the deep +religious feeling which pervades every work of his pencil, whatever be +its outward form. His religion is of no dogma or sect, but the inflowing +of a life which makes all things holy and full of infinite meaning. +Whether he paint the legends of the Catholic Church, as in "St. +Augustine" and "St. Monica," or illustrate the life-poem of the +Protestant Goethe, or tell a simple story of childhood, the same +feelings are kindled, in our heart's faith in God, love to man, the sure +hope of immortality. It is this genuine and earnest religion of humanity +which has made his works familiar to every lover of Art and sentiment, +and given us a feeling of personal love and reverence for the made +artist.</p> + +<p>It is now nearly a year since his labors on earth terminated, and yet no +adequate account of his life and labors has appeared. It is very +difficult to satisfy the craving desire to know more of the personal +life and character of him who has been a household friend so long. Yet +it is rather the privilege of succeeding generations, than of +contemporaries, to draw aside the veil from the sanctuary, and to behold +the works of a man in his greatest art,—the art of life. But the cold +waters of the Atlantic, like the river of Death, make the person of a +European artist sacred to us; and it is hard for us to realize that +those whom we have surrounded with a halo of classic reverence were +partakers of the daily jar and turmoil of our busy age,—that the good +physician who tended our sick children so faithfully had lived in +familiar intercourse with Goethe, and might have listened to the first +performance of those symphonies of Beethoven which seem to us as eternal +as the mountains. Losing the effluence of his personal presence, which +his neighbors and countrymen enjoyed, we demand the privilege of +posterity to hear and tell all that can be told of him. We can wait +fifty years more for a biography of Allston, because something of his +gracious presence yet lingers among us; but we can touch Scheffer only +with the burin or the pen. So we shall throw in our mite to fill up this +chasm. A few gleanings from current French literature, a few anecdotes +familiarly told of the great artist, and the vivid recollection of one +short interview are all the aids we can summon to enable our readers to +call up in their own minds a living image which will answer to the name +that has so long been familiar to our lips and dear to our hearts.</p> + +<p>Ary Scheffer was born about the year 1795, in the town of Dordrecht, in +Holland; but, as at that period Holland belonged to the French Empire, +the child was entitled by birth to those privileges of a French citizen +which opened to him important advantages in his artistic career. French +by this accident of birth, and still more so by his education and long +residence at Paris, he yet always retained traces of his Teutonic origin +in the form of his head, in his general appearance, and in his earnest +and religious character. He always cherished a warm affection for his +native land.</p> + +<p>Many distinguished artists have been the sons of painters or designers +of superior note. Raffaello, Albert Dürer, Alonzo Cano, Vandyck, Luca +Giordano are familiar instances. It seems as if the accumulation of two +generations of talent were necessary to produce the fine flower of +genius. The father of Ary Scheffer was an artist of considerable +ability, and promised to become an eminent painter, when he was cut off +by an early death. He left a widow, many unfinished pictures, and three +sons, yet very young. The character of the mother we infer only from her +influence on her son, from the devoted affection he bore to her, and +from the wisdom with which she guided his early education; but these +show her to have been a true woman,—brave, loving, and always loyal to +the highest. The three sons all lived to middle age, and all became +distinguished men. Ary, the eldest, very early gave unequivocal signs of +his future destiny. His countrymen still remember a large picture +painted by him at Amsterdam when only twelve years old, indicating +extraordinary talent, even at that early age. His mother did not, +however, overrate this boyish success, as stamping him a prodigy, but +regarded it only as a motive for giving him a thorough artistic +education. He went, accordingly, to Paris, and entered the <i>atelier</i> of +Guérin, the teacher then most in vogue.</p> + +<p>It was in the latter days of the Empire that Ary Scheffer commenced his +studies,—a period of great stagnation in Art. The whole force of the +popular mind had for many years been turned to politics and war; and if +French Art had striven to emancipate itself from slavish dependence on +the Greek, it still clung to the Roman models, which are far less +inspiring. "The autocrat David, with his correct, but soulless +compositions, was more absolute than his master, the Emperor." Only in +the Saloon of 1819 did the Revolution, which had already affected every +other department of thought and life, reach the <i>ateliers</i>. It commenced +in that of Guérin. The very weakness of the master, who himself halted +between two opinions, left the pupils in freedom to pursue their own +course. Scheffer did not esteem this a fortunate circumstance for +himself. His own nature was too strong and living to be crushed by a +severe master or exact study, and he felt the want of that thorough +early training which would have saved him much struggle in after life. +He used to speak of Ingres as such a teacher as he would have chosen for +himself. From the pupil of David, the admirer of Michel Angelo, the +conservator of the sacred traditions of Art, the student might learn all +the treasured wisdom of antiquity,—while the influences around him, and +his own genius, would impel him towards prophesying the hope of the +future. His favorite companions of the <i>atelier</i> at this time were +Eugène Delacroix and Géricault. Delacroix ranks among the greatest +living French artists; and if death early closed the brilliant career of +Géricault, it has not yet shrouded his name in oblivion. The trio made +their first appearance together in the Saloon of 1819. Géricault sent +his "Wreck of the Medusa," Delacroix "The Barque of Dante," and Ary +Scheffer "The Citizens of Calais."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1" /><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>The works of these friends may be considered as the commencement of the +modern French school of Art, still so little known, and so ill +appreciated by us, but which is really an expression of the new ideas of +Art and Humanity which have agitated France to its centre for half a +century. Their hour of triumph has not yet come; but as the poet sings +most touchingly of his love, neither when he rejoices in its happy +consummation, nor in the hour of utter despair, but when doubt still +tempers hope,—so does the artist labor with prophetic zeal to express +those sentiments of humanity and brotherhood which are not yet organized +into institutions. A careless eye might have perceived little departure +from the old models in these pictures, but a keener one would have +already discovered that Scheffer and his friends worked with a different +aim from that of their predecessors. Not merely to paint a well-composed +picture on a classical theme, but to give expression to thought and +feeling, was now the object. "The Wreck of the Medusa" of Géricault is +full of earnest, if niggling life. Delacroix has followed his own bent +with such independent zeal as has made him the object of intense +admiration to some, of bitter hatred to others. But Ary Scheffer has +taken his rank at the head of the Spiritualist school, and has awakened +a wider love and obtained a fuller appreciation than either of them. The +spirit which found in them its first expression is continually +increasing in power, and developing into richer life. The living artists +of France are the exponents of her genuine Christian democracy.</p> + +<p>"The entire collection of Rosa Bonheur's works," says a French writer, +"might be called the Hymn to Labor. Here she shows us the ploughing, +there the reaping, farther on the gathering in of the hay, then of the +harvests, elsewhere the vintage,—always and everywhere labor." Edouard +Frère, in his scenes from humble life, which the skilful lithographer +places within the means of all, represents the incidents of domestic +existence among the poor. "The Prayer at the Mother's Knee," "The Woman +at her Ironing Table," "The Child shelling Peas," "The Walk to School +amid Rain and Sleet," are all charming idyls of every-day life. With yet +greater skill and deeper pathos does the peasant Millet tell the story +of his neighbors. The washerwomen, as the sun sets upon their labors, +and they go wearily homeward; the digger, at his lonely task, who can +pause but an instant to wipe the sweat from his brow; the sewing-women +bending over their work, while every nerve and muscle are strained by +the unremitting toil; the girl tending her geese; the woman her +cows:—such are the subjects of his masterly pencil. Do not all these +facts point to the realization of Christian democracy? If the king is +now but the servant of the people, so the artist who is royal in the +kingdom of the mind finds his true glory in serving humanity. What a +change from the classic subjects or monkish legends which occupied the +pencils of David and his greater predecessors, Le Sueur and Poussin!</p> + +<p>And yet those students of the antique have done French Art good service; +they have furnished it with admirable tools, so that to them we are +indebted for the thorough drawing, the masterly knowledge, which render +Paris the great school for all beginners in Art. Such men as we have +named do not scorn the past, but use it in the service of the present. +While Scheffer always subordinated the material part of Art to its +expression, he was never afraid of knowing too much, but often regretted +the loss of valuable time in youth from incompetent instruction.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by the success of his first essay, Scheffer continued to +paint a series of small pictures, representing simple and affecting +scenes from common life, some of which are familiar to all. "The +Soldier's Widow," "The Conscript's Return," "The Orphans at their +Mother's Tomb," "The Sister of Charity," "The Fishermen before a Storm," +"The Burning of the Farm," and "The Scene of the Invasion in 1814," are +titles which give an idea of the range of his subjects and the tenor of +his thoughts at this time. The French have long excelled in the art of +composition. It is this quality which gives the greatest value to the +works of Le Sueur and Poussin. Scheffer possessed this power in a +remarkable degree, but it was united to a directness and truth of +feeling which made his art the perfection of natural expression. A very +charming little engraving, entitled "The Lost Children," which appeared +in "The Token" for 1830, is probably from a picture of this period. A +little boy and girl are lost in a wood. Wearied with their fruitless +attempts to find a path, the boy has at length sunk down upon a log and +buried his face in his hands; while the little girl, still patient, +still hopeful, stands, with folded hands, looking earnestly into the +wood, with a sweet, sad look of anxiety, but not of despair. The +contrast in the expression of the two figures is very touching and very +true to Nature;—the boy was hopeful so long as his own exertions +offered a chance of escape, but the courage of the girl appears when +earthly hope is most dim and faint. The sweet unconsciousness of this +early picture has hardly been surpassed by any subsequent work. +"Naturalness and the charm of composition," says a French critic, "are +the secrets of Scheffer's success in these early pictures, to which may +be added a third,—the distinction of the type of his faces, and +especially of his female heads,—a kind of suave and melancholy ideal, +which gave so new a stamp to his works."</p> + +<p>These small pictures were very successful in winning popular favor; but +this success, far from intoxicating the young artist, only opened his +eyes to his own faults. He applied himself diligently to repairing the +deficiencies which he recognized in his work, by severe studies and +labors. He knew the danger of working too long on small-sized pictures, +in which faults may be so easily hidden. About the year 1826 he turned +resolutely from his "pretty jewels," as he called them, and commenced +his "Femmes Suliotes," on a large canvas, with figures the size of life. +M. Vitet describes the appearance of the canvas when Scheffer had +already spent eight days "in the fire of his first thought." It seemed +to him rather like a vision than a picture, as he saw the dim outlines +of those heroic women, who cast themselves from the rock to escape +slavery by death. He confesses that the finished picture never moved him +as did the sketch. Three years earlier Scheffer had sent to the Saloon +of 1824, in company with three or four small pictures, a large picture +of Gaston de Foix after the Battle of Ravenna. It was a sombre picture, +painted with that lavish use of pigment and that unrestrained freedom +which distinguished the innovators of that day. The new school were in +raptures, and claimed Scheffer as belonging to them. The public judged +less favorably; "they admired the noble head of Gaston de Foix, but, +uninterested in the remainder of the picture, they turned off to look at +'The Soldier's Widow.'" Scheffer did not listen to his flatterers; but, +remembering Michel Angelo's words to the young sculptor, "The light of +the public square will test its value," he believed in the verdict of +the people, and never again painted in the same manner. It was one of +his peculiar merits, that, although open to conviction, and ready to try +a new path which seemed to offer itself, he was also ready to turn from +it when he found it leading him astray. "Les Femmes Suliotes" did not +seem to have been designed by the same hand or with the same pencil as +the "Gaston de Foix." The first sketch was particularly +pleasing,—already clear and harmonious in color, although rather low in +tone. Many counselled him to leave the picture, thus. "No," said +Scheffer, "I did not take a large canvas merely to increase the size of +my figures and to paint large in water-colors, but to give greater truth +and thoroughness to my forms." In 1827 this picture was exhibited with +ample success, and the critics were forced to acknowledge the great +improvement in his style, although he had not entirely escaped from the +influence of his companions, and some violent contrasts of color mar the +general effect. The picture is now in the Luxembourg Gallery.</p> + +<p>M. Vitet divides Scheffer's artistic life into three portions: that in +which he painted subjects from simple life; that devoted to poetic +subjects; and the last, or distinctively religious period. These +divisions cannot, of course, be very sharply drawn, but may help us to +understand the progress of his mind; and "Les Femmes Suliotes" will mark +the transition from the first to the second period. Turning from the +simple scenes of domestic sorrow, he now sought inspiration in +literature. The vigorous and hearty Northern Muse especially won his +favor; yet the greatest Italian poet was also his earnest study. Goethe, +Schiller, Byron, Dante, all furnished subjects for his pencil. The story +of Faust and Margaret took such hold of his imagination that it pursued +him for nearly thirty years. Their forms appeared before him in new +attitudes and situations almost to his last hour, so that, in the midst +of his labors on religious pictures, he seized his pencils to paint yet +another Faust, another Margaret. Nor can we wonder at this absorbing +interest, when we reflect on the profound significance and touching +pathos of this theme, which may wear a hundred faces, and touch every +chord of the human heart. It is intellect and passion, in contrast with +innocence and faith; it is natural and spontaneous love, thwarted by +convention and circumstance; it is condemnation before men, and +forgiveness before God; it is the ideal and the worldly; it is an +epitome of human life,—love, joy, sorrow, sin,—birth, life, death, and +the sure hope of resurrection. How pregnant with expression was it to a +mind like Scheffer's, where the intellectual, the affectional, and the +spiritual natures were so nicely blended! He first painted "Margaret at +her Wheel," in 1831,—accompanied by a "Faust tormented by Doubt." These +were two simple heads, each by itself, like a portrait, but with all the +fine perception of character which constitutes an ideal work. Next he +painted "Margaret at Church." Here other figures fill up the canvas; but +the touching expression of the young girl, whose soul is just beginning +to be torn by the yet new joy of her love and the bitter consciousness +of her lost innocence, fills the mind of the spectator. This is the +most inspired and the most touching of all the pictures; it strikes the +key-note of the whole story; it is the meeting of the young girl's own +ideal world of pure thought with the outward world. The sense of guilt +comes from the reflection in the thoughts of those about her; and where +all before was peace and love, now come discord and agony;—she has +eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and is already cast out +of her paradise. "Margaret on the Sabbath," "Margaret going out of +Church," and "Margaret walking in the Garden," are all charming idyls, +but have less expression. The last picture, painted just before +Scheffer's death, and soon to be engraved, represents "Margaret at the +Fountain." "It is full of expression, and paints the joy and pain of +love still struggling in the young girl's heart, while conscience begins +to make its chiding voice heard."</p> + +<p>The "Mignons" are the best known of all Scheffer's works of this period. +The youngest one, "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie," is the most +satisfactory in its simple, unconscious expression. The wonderful child +stands in the most natural attitude, absorbed in her own thought, and +struggling to recall those dim memories, floating in beauty before her +mind, which seem almost to belong to a previous state of existence. +There is less of the weird and fantastic than Goethe has given to +her,—but the central, deep nature is beautifully reproduced. "Mignon +aspirant au Ciel," although full of spiritual beauty, is a little more +constrained; the longing after her heavenly home is less naturally +expressed than her childish regret; the pose is a little mannered; and +the feeling is more conscious, but less deep. "Mignon with the Old +Harper" is far less interesting; the old man's head does not express +that mixture of inspiration and insanity, the result of a life of love, +misery, and wrong, which Goethe has portrayed in this strange character.</p> + +<p>A very different picture, painted at this period, is peculiarly +interesting to us as our first acquaintance among Scheffer's works. An +excellent copy or duplicate of it belongs to the Boston Athenæum. The +original is in the Luxembourg at Paris. The subject is taken from +Schiller's ballad of "Count Eberhard." After the victory in which his +son has fallen, though the old Count has said to those who would have +paused to mourn his death, "My son is like another man; on, comrades, to +the foe!"—yet now he sits alone in his tent and looks upon the dead +body of his child. The silent grief of the stern old man is very +touching. This sorrow, so contrary to Nature, when old age stands by the +grave of youth, always moves the deepest feeling; and Scheffer, in the +noble old man and the brave and beautiful boy before him, has given it +its simplest and most appropriate expression. This picture was painted +in 1834. At that period Scheffer was engaged in some experiments in +color, and this sad subject led him to employ the dark tints of +Rembrandt. In 1850 he painted a duplicate of it, lighter and more +agreeable in tone. He painted "The Giaour" and "Medora," from Byron, +which pictures we have never seen. The wayward and morbid Muse of the +English Lord does not seem to us a fit inspiration for the pure pencil +of Scheffer.</p> + +<p>The well-known composition of "Francesca da Rimini" may well conclude +our brief notice of the pictures of this second epoch. M. Vitet regards +it as the most harmonious and complete of all his works; but we think it +has taken less hold on the popular heart than the "Mignons" and +"Margaret." Yet it is a work of great skill and beauty. The difficult +theme is managed with that moderation and good taste which recognize the +true limits of the art. The crowd of spirits which Dante so powerfully +describes as driven by the wind without rest are only dimly seen in the +background. The horrors of hell are shown only in the anguish of those +faces, in the despairing languor of the attitude, which not even mutual +love can lighten. The love which made them one in guilt, one in +condemnation, is stronger than death, stronger than hell; but it cannot +bring peace and joy to these souls shut out from heaven and God.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>Se fosse amico il Re dell' universo,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>Noi pregheremmo."</span></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>But even prayer is denied to him who feels that he has not God for a +friend. There is no mark of physical torture; it is pure spiritual +suffering,—restless, aimless weariness,—the loss of hope; it is +death,—and love demands life. How strangely appropriate is this +punishment of spirits driven hither and thither by the winds, with no +hope of rest, to those who reject the firm anchorage of duty and +principle, and allow themselves to float at the mercy of their impulses +and passions! The overpowering compassion and sympathy of the poets is +shown in their earnest faces. Neither here, nor in the well-known "Dante +and Beatrice," which is too familiar to need description, does Scheffer +quite do justice to our ideal of the sublime poet of Heaven and Hell; +but neither do the portraits which remain of him. The picture was first +exhibited in 1835. As it had suffered very much in 1850, Scheffer +painted a repetition of it, with a few slight alterations, in which, +however, his progress in his art during twenty years was very evident. +This copy is very far superior to the engraving.</p> + +<p>About this period Scheffer seems to have wandered a little from the true +mission of Art, and to have esteemed it her province to represent +abstract theological truths. His religious feeling seems to have become +morbid, and his natural melancholy intensified. The death of his wife, +and consequent loneliness, may have given this ascetic tinge to his +feelings. But we must acknowledge, if it were so, that the sorrow which +oppressed did not embitter his heart, and that a brave and humane spirit +appears even in those works which have the least artistic merit to +recommend them. The "Christus Consolator" is the best known of this +class of pictures. It is cold, abstract, and inharmonious; but its +religious spirit and the beautiful truth which it expresses have won for +it a welcome which it seems hardly to merit. Yet it has touching beauty +in the separate figures. The woman who leans so trustingly on her +Saviour's arm has a very high and holy face, whose type we recognize in +more than one of his pictures; and the mother and her dead child form a +very touching group. But the various persons are not connected by any +common story or mutual relation, and we feel a want of unity in the +whole work. Perhaps the strongest tribute to its power of expression is +the story, that religious publishers found it necessary to blot out the +figure of the slave who takes his place among the recipients of Christ's +blessing, in order to fit their reprint for a Southern market. As a +companion to it, he painted the "Christus Remunerator," which is less +interesting. To this same class of pictures we should probably refer +"The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven," which we have never seen, but +which is thus described by M. Anatole de la Lorge:—</p> + +<p>"There are also treasures of disappointed pleasure and of bitterness in +this picture of 'The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven,'—dim symbol of +human suffering. How does one, in the presence of this poem, feel filled +with the spirit of St. Augustine, the nothingness of what we call joy, +happiness, glory, here below,—delights of a moment, which at most only +aid us to traverse in a dream this valley of tears! Certain pages of +'The City of God,' funeral prayers of Bossuet, can alone serve us for a +comparison, in order to express the effect produced upon those who have +visited this <i>chef d'oeuvre</i> in Ary Scheffer's <i>atelier</i>. Before +producing it, the artist must have thought long, suffered long; for each +stroke of the pencil seems to hide a grief, each figure speaks to you in +passing, and utters a complaint, a sigh, a prayer,—sad echoes of the +despair of life! The religious tendency of the thinker is here fully +shown; his poetic sympathy, his aspirations, his dreams, have found a +free course. We must mark, also, with what freedom his lamentations +spring from the ground, to carry even to the feet of the Creator the +overwhelming weight of earthly woe. Ary Scheffer's picture is like the +epitaph destined some day for the obsequies of the world; it breathes of +death, and has the sombre harmony of the Miserere. And nevertheless,—a +strange thing!—this dreaming painter, who seizes and afflicts us, is +the same man who at the same time reassures and consoles us,—without +doubt, because by dint of spiritualizing our thoughts he raises them +above our sufferings, by showing the consoling light of eternity to +those whom he would sever from the deceitful joys of earth."</p> + +<p>If the picture be not overcolored by the critic's eye, we must believe +this to be the culmination of the morbidly spiritualistic tendency which +we meet in Scheffer's works. Yet it never exists unrelieved by redeeming +qualities. Many will remember the original picture of the "Dead Christ," +which was exhibited here by an Art Union about ten years ago. The +engraving gives but a faint idea of the touching expression of the whole +group. The deathly pallor of the corpse was in strange harmony with the +face of the mother which bent over it, her whole being dissolved in +grief and love. No picture of this scene recalls to us more fully the +simple account in the Gospels. The cold, wan color of the whole scene +seems like that gray pall which a public grief will draw across the sky, +even when the meridian sun is shining in its glory. We have seen such +days even in Boston. No wonder that darkness covered the land to the +believing disciples even until the ninth hour.</p> + +<p>His "St. Monica," which appeared in 1846, met with great success. "Ruth +and Naomi" is yet unknown to us, but it seems to be a subject specially +adapted to his powers. Of those works which he produced within the last +twelve years, very few are yet engraved. When thus placed before the +public, we believe the popular estimate of Scheffer will be raised even +higher than at present.</p> + +<p>His pictures of Christ are of very superior merit. His representation of +the person of Jesus was not formal and conventional, but fresh in +expression and feeling, and full of touching pathos and sentiment. He +has neither the youthful beauty with which the Italians represent him, +nor the worn and wasted features which the early Germans often gave him, +but a thoughtful, earnest, tender beauty. The predominant expression is +the love and tenderness born of suffering. Three of his finest +representations of the life of Jesus of Nazareth are, "The Christ +weeping over Jerusalem," the "Ecce Homo," and "The Temptation." The last +is as original in design and composition; it is noble in expression. The +two figures stand on the summit of a mountain, and the calm, still air +around them gives a wonderful sense of height and solitude. You almost +feel the frost of the high, rare atmosphere. Satan is a very powerful +figure,—not the vulgar devil, but the determined will, the unsanctified +power. The figure of Christ is simple and expressive,—even the flow of +the drapery being full of significance and beauty. Another composition +of great beauty represents a group of souls rising from earth, and +soaring upwards to heaven. The highest ones are already rejoicing in the +heavenly light, while those below seem scarcely awakened from the sleep +of death. The whole picture is full of aspiration; everything seems +mounting upwards.</p> + +<p>Scheffer also painted a few pictures which can hardly be called his own. +Such are "The Battle of Tolbiac," and "Charlemagne dictating his +Statutes." These were painted by the command of Louis Philippe, who was +his constant friend and patron. The young princes were his pupils; and +Scheffer was careful to form them to better taste than that of the +citizen monarch who has lined Versailles with poor pictures. For the +King he painted "The Battle of Tolbiac," and we can only regret the time +which was thus wasted; <i>but for his pupils</i> he designed "Francesca da +Rimini" and the "Mignons."</p> + +<p>A few masterly portraits by Scheffer's hand indicate his power of +reproducing individual character. Among these we may name that of his +mother, which is said to be his finest work,—one of the Queen,—a +picture of Lamennais,—and another of Emilia Manin, to which we shall +again refer. He occasionally modelled a bust, and sometimes engaged in +literary labor, contributing some valuable articles on Art to "La Revue +Française."</p> + +<p>It would be impossible for us to analyze or even enumerate all of +Scheffer's works. They are scattered throughout France and Holland, and +a few have found their way to this country. Most of the engravings from +his pictures are too well known to require description; and we feel that +we have said enough to justify our placing Scheffer in the high rank +which we claim for him. Engravings give us a juster idea of the French +than of the Dutch or Italian artists; for their merit is rather in +design and composition than in color. We agree with M. Vitet, that color +need not be a prominent excellence in a work of high spiritual beauty, +and that it should always be toned to a complete harmony with the +prevailing feeling of the picture. In this aspect we look upon the cold +color of the "Dead Christ" as hardly a defect; it is in keeping with the +sad solemnity of the scene. But if color should not be so brilliant as +to overpower the expression of form and sentiment, still less should it +be so inharmonious as to distract the mind from it, as is sometimes the +case with Scheffer. The "Dante and Beatrice" is a familiar instance. We +can see no reason why Beatrice should be dressed in disagreeable pink, +and Dante in brick-red. Surely, such color is neither agreeable to the +eye nor harmonious with the expression of the scene. This defect in +color has led many to prefer the engravings to Scheffer's original +pictures; but no copy can quite reproduce the nice touches of thought +and feeling given by the master's hand. Color is supposed by many to +belong mainly to the representation of physical beauty; but has not +Allston proved to us that the most subtile and delicate harmonies of +color may be united with ethereal grace and spiritual beauty? Compare +his "Beatrice" with that of Scheffer. But, in truth, the whole spiritual +relation of color is yet but dimly understood; and there are, perhaps, +influences in the climate and organization of the French nation which +have rendered them inferior in this department of Art. Allowing this +deduction—a great one, certainly,—still, if the expression of the +highest thoughts in the most beautiful forms be the true aim of Art, +Scheffer must rank among the very first painters of his age. Delaroche +may surpass him in strength and vigor of conception, and in thorough +modelling and execution; but Scheffer has taken a deeper hold of the +feelings, and has risen into a higher spiritual region.</p> + +<p>It has been reproachfully said that Scheffer is the painter for pretty +women, for poets, and for lovers. The reproach is also a eulogium, since +he must thus meet the demand of the human soul in its highest and finest +development. Others have accused him of morbid sensibility. There is +reason for the charge. He has not the full, round, healthy, development +which belongs to the perfect type of Art. Compare the "St. Cecilia" of +Scheffer—this single figure, with such womanly depth of feeling, such +lofty inspiration, yet so sad—with the joyous and almost girlish grace +of Raphael's representation of the same subject, and we feel at once the +height and the limitation of Scheffer's genius. There is always pathos, +always suffering; we cannot recall a single subject, unless it be the +group of rising spirits, in which struggle and sorrow do not form the +key-note.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>In all your music, one pathetic minor</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>Your ears shall cross;</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>And all fair sights shall mind you of diviner,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>With sense of loss."</span></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>This is one view of human life, but it is a transitional and imperfect +one,—neither that of the first healthy unconsciousness of childhood, +nor of the full consciousness of a soul which has risen to that height +of divine wisdom which feels the meaning of all suffering, of all life. +The music of Beethoven expresses the struggle, the contest, the +sufferings of humanity, as Art has never done before; but it always +contains an eternal prophecy, rather than a mournful regret,—and in the +last triumphant symphony it swells onward and upward, until at last it +bursts forth in all the freedom and gush of song, and its theme is "The +Hymn to Joy." How much the fatherless home of Scheffer's childhood, how +much his own desolated life, when his beloved companion was so early +taken from his side, may have had to do with this melancholy cast of +thought, or how far it belonged to his delicate physical constitution, +we are not prepared to say. It becomes less prominent in his later +compositions, "as faith became stronger and sight clearer"; and perhaps +in those pictures yet unknown to us we may find still brighter omens of +the new life of rest and joy into which he has entered.</p> + +<p>If we turn from Scheffer's works to his life, our task is no less +grateful and pleasing. The admiration and affection which his countrymen +express for his character surpass even what they feel for his works. He +was a noble, generous, active, benevolent friend of humanity. He gave +freely to all who were in need, counsel, money, advice, personal care, +and love. Young artists found him ever ready to help them. "He gave +them," says M. Vitet, "home, <i>atelier</i>, material, sympathy,—whatever +they needed." Another writer, M. Anatole de la Lorge, said of him, while +yet living,—"Ary Scheffer has the rare good luck not to be exclusive. +His heart can pity every suffering as fully as his pencil can portray +it. A faithful and intimate friend of a now fallen dynasty, (that of +Orléans,) proud, even distrustful towards men in power, indifferent to +their opinion, inaccessible to their offers, Ary Scheffer, in his +original individuality, is one of the most independent and most +honorable political men of our country. His studio is the rendezvous of +all opinions, provided they are honest,—of all religions, provided they +are sincere. There each one is received, not according to the habit +which he wears, as the ancient proverb says, but according to the mind +(<i>esprit</i>) which he has shown. We say mind, but it is heart that we +should say; for Ary Scheffer seems to us to estimate the latter more +highly than the former. His whole life proves it." Always an ardent +friend of liberty, he was also a lover of law and order, and he rendered +good service in their preservation in the capital during the Revolution +of 1848, for which, he received honorable distinction.</p> + +<p>The same writer quoted above gives an interesting description of his +meeting with Ary Scheffer in the sick-room and by the death-bed of an +Italian refugee, Emilia Manin. A young Venetian girl, full of devotion +to her country and her proscribed father, she supported her exile with +all a woman's courage, buoyed up by the hope of returning to her +country, redeemed from its misery. She is described as possessing +extraordinary powers of mind and great beauty of person. There were no +questions, however sublime or abstract, which she did not treat with a +surprising depth and sagacity. "Her speech, ordinarily timid and feeble, +became emphatic and stirring; her great, dreamy eyes suddenly acquired +unequalled energy; she spoke of the misfortunes of her country in terms +so moving as to draw tears from our eyes." But the body which contained +this burning soul was very frail, "and the poor Emilia, the silent +martyr, turned her head upon her pillow, and took her first hour of +repose. When no longer able to speak, she had traced with a trembling +hand on a paper these last words,—'Oh, Venice! I shall never see thee +more!' She yet retained the position in which she drew her last breath, +when Ary Scheffer came, as Tintoret formerly came to the bedside of his +daughter, to retrace, with a hand unsteady through emotion, the features +of Emilia Manin. This holy image, snatched by genius from death, is one +of the most admirable works we have ever seen. She lies there, extended +and cold,—the poor child!—in that peace unknown to the life which she +had lived in the body. It is, indeed, the intelligent brow from which +the inspiration of her soul seemed to speak. It is the delicate mouth +and the pale lips, which, never uttering a murmur, betrayed the +celestial goodness of her heart. In truth, it would have been difficult +to hide our emotion, in recognizing—thanks to the pure devotion of the +painter—the touching features of this innocent victim, whom we had +known, loved, and venerated during her life. Some hours later, we again +found Ary Scheffer sustaining with us the tottering steps of Manin upon +the freshly removed earth which was soon to cover the coffin of his +child."</p> + +<p>By the same loving and faithful hand were traced the features of the +Abbé de Lamennais, a name so dear to those who live in the hope of new +progress and liberty for humanity. "At the moment," says M. de la Lorge, +"when death was yet tearing this great genius from the earth, the pencil +of the artist restored him, in some sense alive, in the midst of us all, +his friends, his disciples, his admirers. Hereafter, thanks to the +indefatigable devotion of Ary Scheffer, we shall be permitted to see +again the meagre visage, the burning eyes, the sad and energetic +features of the Breton Apostle."</p> + +<p>Into the domestic life of Scheffer it is not at present our privilege to +enter. Some near friend—the brother, the daughter, the wife—may, +perhaps, hereafter, lift the veil from the sacred spot, and reveal him +to us in those relations which most deeply affect and most truly express +a man's inmost nature. We close this notice with some slight sketch of +his life in the <i>atelier</i>.</p> + +<p>None could enter this room without a feeling of reverence and +sacredness. In the failing light of a November afternoon, all was +subdued to a quiet and religious tone. Large and commodious in size, it +was filled with objects of the deepest interest. Nothing was in +disorder; there was no smoke, no unnecessary litter; yet everywhere +little sketches or hints of pictures were perceptible among the casts, +which one longed to bring forth into the light. A few portraits +especially dear to him—best of all, that of his mother—were on the +walls; a few casts of the finest statues—among others, that of the +Venus de Milo—around the room. His last copy of the "Francesca da +Rimini," and the original picture of "The Three Marys," and the yet +unfinished "Temptation on the Mount," were all there. On the easel stood +the picture of the "Group of Spirits ascending to Heaven." Such was the +aspect of this celebrated <i>atelier</i>, as we saw it in 1854. But "the +greatest thing in the room was the master of it." Ary Scheffer was then +about sixty years of age, but was still healthy and fresh in appearance. +His face was rather German than French, and bore the stamp of purity and +goodness in every line; but the eyes especially had the fire of genius +tempered by gentleness and love. It was a face which satisfied you at +once, answering to all you could ask of the painter of "Mignon," and the +"Christus Consolator." His manner was quiet and reserved, but courteous. +Unconscious modesty was the peculiar charm of his appearance. One of our +party said that he reminded him strongly of Allston. It was a reverend +presence, which forbade common topics, and strangers thus meeting had +few words to say. As we turned away, we knew that we should never meet +again on earth; but we had gained a new life, and we had beheld, as it +were, the face of an angel.</p> + +<p>Two American artists stood with us in that room: one a fair young girl, +whose purity of soul was mirrored in her beautiful face, who had gone to +Paris to continue her studies in an art which she loved as she did her +life; the other, a man of mature age, whose high and reverent genius has +always met with a loving and faithful appreciation among his countrymen, +which does them as much honor as it did him. The young girl lay down to +die amid her labors, and her frail body rests amid the flowers and trees +of Montmartre; the grown man came home but to bid farewell to home, +friends, and life; the great artist whom we met to honor has gone home +too. A threefold halo of sanctity rests on that room to us.</p> + +<p>To those who shared the privilege of Scheffer's friendship this room was +endeared by hours of the richest social enjoyment. His liberal +hospitality welcomed all ranks and all classes. It is related that Louis +Philippe once sat waiting for him in the <i>atelier</i>, and answered a knock +at the door. The visitor was delivering his messages to him, when the +artist returned, and was somewhat surprised to find his royal friend +playing the part of <i>concierge</i>. "It was not rare to meet in this +<i>atelier</i> the great men of finance, who counted themselves among his +most passionate admirers." Here was conversation, not without gayety, +but without loud laughter or revelry. Scheffer was very fond of music of +the highest order. He was a generous patron of musicians, and loved to +listen to music while he was engaged in painting. His friends sometimes +held an extemporaneous concert in his room, without preparation, +programme, or audience. Think of listening to an <i>andante</i> of Mozart's, +played in that room! "Music doubled her power, and painting seemed +illuminated." Beethoven was his favorite composer; his lofty genius +harmonized with, and satisfied the longings of, Scheffer's aspiring +nature.</p> + +<p>Ary Scheffer was a personal friend of the Orléans family. He was, +however, an ardent lover of liberty; and his hospitalities were free to +all shades of opinion. He did not forsake this family when their star +went down. Hearing of the death of Hélène, the Duchess of Orléans, he +hastened to England, to pay a last tribute of love and respect to her +memory. The English climate had always been ungenial to him. He took a +severe cold, which proved fatal in its results. He died soon after his +return to Paris, on the 16th of June, 1858. Sadly as the news of his +death struck upon our hearts, it seemed no great change for him to die. +So pure and holy was his life, so spiritual his whole nature, so lofty +his aspirations, that it seemed as if</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>He might to Heaven from Paradise go,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>As from one room to another."</span></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>Ary Scheffer was twice married. His first wife died early. Many years +after her death he again married,—very happily, as we have heard. He +leaves behind him one daughter, who is also an artist. Under her loving +care, we trust every relic of his artistic labors and every trait of his +personal life will be faithfully preserved.</p> + +<p>Both his brothers lived to middle age. One, of whom we know little but +that M. Vitet calls him "a distinguished man," died in 1855. The only +surviving brother, Henri, is also a painter, of considerable reputation. +He is a thorough and accomplished draughtsman, and a superior teacher. +His <i>atelier</i> is one of the few in Paris which are open to women, and +several American ladies have enjoyed its advantages.</p> + +<p>We have spoken of Scheffer's love for his native country. By his will he +bequeathed to his native town of Dordrecht "the portrait of Sir J. +Reynolds, by Scheffer; a dog lying down, life-size, by the same; a copy +of the picture of the 'Christus Remunerator,' on pasteboard, of the size +of the original in England; a copy of the 'Christus Consolator,'—both +by himself: also, his own statue, in plaster; his own bust, by his +daughter; and the Virgin and Infant Jesus, by himself." The town of +Dordrecht proposes to erect a statue in commemoration of the fame of the +great artist.</p> + +<p>It is too early to assign to Ary Scheffer the rank which he will finally +occupy in the new era of French Art which is coeval with his labors. He +will always stand as the companion of Ingres and Delaroche and +Géricault; and if his successors surpass him even in his own path, they +will owe much to him who helped to open the way. He lived through times +of trouble, when a man's faith in humanity might well be shaken, yet he +remained no less a believer in and lover of mankind. Brighter days for +France may lead her artists to a healthier and freer development; but +they can never be more single-hearted, true, and loving than Ary +Scheffer.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1" /><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This picture is now in the Louvre. It is a composition of +great dramatic power. Mrs. Stowe gives a graphic description of the +effect it produced upon her, in her "Sunny Memories of Sunny Lands."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MARTHAS_VINEYARD" id="MARTHAS_VINEYARD" /><span class='smcap'>A Visit to Martha's Vineyard.</span></h3> + + +<p>We have all, in our days of atlases and "the use of the globes," been +made aware of the fact, that off the southern shore of Massachusetts +lies a long and narrow island, called Martha's Vineyard, one of the many +defences thrown out by the beleaguered New England coast against its +untiring foe, the Atlantic.</p> + +<p>But how many are those who know more than this? How many have visited +it, inquired into its traditions, classified its curiosities, mineral, +saline, and human? How many have seen Gay Head and the Gay-Head Indians? +Not many, truly; and yet the island is well worth a visit, and will +repay the tourist better for his time and labor than any jaded, glaring, +seaside watering-place, with its barrack of white hotel, and its crowd +of idle people.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the delicious suggestiveness of the name,—Martha's +Vineyard! At once we ask, Who was Martha? and how did she use her +vineyard? Was she the thrifty wife of some old Puritan proprietor of +untamed acres?—and did she fancy the wild grapes of this little island, +fuller of flavor, and sweeter for the manufacture of her jellies and +home-made wine, than those which grew elsewhere?—and did she come in +the vintage season, with her children and her friends, to gather in the +rich purple clusters, bearing them back as did the Israelitish spies, to +show the fatness of the promised land?</p> + +<p>It was one of the fairest days of the Indian summer, when Caleb, Mysie, +and the Baron (a young gentleman four years old) set gayly forth to +explore this new and almost unknown region.</p> + +<p>The first stage of their journey was New Bedford; and at the neat and +quiet hotel where they spent the night, Caleb ascertained that the +steamer "Eagle's Wing" would leave its wharf, bound to the Vineyard.</p> + +<p>Pending this event, the trio wandered about the quiet wharves, +inspecting the shipping, and saturating themselves with nautical odors +and information. They discovered that whaleships are not the leviathans +of the deep which Mysie had supposed them, being very rarely of a +thousand tons, and averaging five hundred. They were informed that +whaling has ceased to be a profitable occupation to any but the officers +of the ships, the owners frequently making only enough to repay their +outlay from a voyage which has brought the captain and first mate +several thousand dollars each.</p> + +<p>Every member of a whaleship's crew, from the captain down to the +cabin-boy, is paid, not fixed wages, but a "lay," or share of the +profits of the voyage. Formerly, these "lays" were so graduated, that +the chief advantage of the expedition was to the owners; but, of late +years, matters have altered, so that now it is not uncommon for the +captain to receive a twelfth, tenth, or even eighth of the entire +profit, and the other officers in proportion.</p> + +<p>The attention of our travellers was now directed to numerous squares and +plateaus of great black objects buried in seaweed; these, they were +informed, were casks of oil, stored in this manner instead of in +warehouses, as less liable to leakage.</p> + +<p>It was also asserted, as a fact, that the sperm whale, alarmed at the +untiring rigor of his assailants, has almost disappeared from the +navigable waters, retreating to the fastnesses of the Frozen Ocean, +where he is still pursued, although at the greatest peril, by the +dauntless New Bedford, Nantucket, and Vineyard whalemen, who, as the +narrator proudly stated, have, time and again, come out unscathed from +the perils under which Franklin and his crew succumbed. Many a man now +walks the streets of these seaports who has conversed with the Esquimaux +last in company with that ill-fated crew.</p> + +<p>Full-fed with maritime and oleaginous lore, our travellers at last +embarked upon the "Eagle's Wing," bound down the Vineyard Sound. As the +steamer gained its offing, the view of New Bedford was very picturesque, +reminding one of Boston seated at the head of her beautiful bay. The +passage through the islands, though not long, is intricate, requiring +skilful pilotage; and as the boat passed through the channel called +Wood's Hole, certain feeble-minded sisters were positive that all on +board were bound to immediate destruction; and, in truth, the reefs, +between which the channel lies, approach too closely to leave much room +for steering. The perils of the vasty deep, however, were finally +surmounted, and the steamer made fast to its wharf at Holmes's Hole, one +of the two principal ports of Martha's Vineyard.</p> + +<p>Our trio disembarked, and found themselves at once the subjects of +fierce contention to no less than three aspirants for the honor of +conveying them and their luggage to their point of destination. One of +these, called Dave, was a grave, saturnine Yankee, his hands in the +pockets of his black trousers, his costume further exhibiting the +national livery of black dress coat, black satin waistcoat and necktie, +cow-hide boots, and stiff, shiny hat, very much upon the back of his +head. The languid and independent offers of this individual were, +however, quite drowned by the flood of vociferous overtures from his two +rivals,—an original youth, about eighteen years old, and a man, or +rather mannikin, who, judging by his face, might be in his fiftieth, +and, by his back, in his tenth year.</p> + +<p>Mannikin first succeeded in gaining the attention of Caleb,—the efforts +of Mysie, meanwhile, barely sufficing to restrain the Baron from +plunging over the side of the wharf, in his anxiety to witness the +departure of the steamboat. Mannikin, asserting earnestly that he had a +"good conveyance" close at hand, danced around the group with vehement +gesticulations, intended to strike despair into the souls of his two +adversaries, who, nevertheless, retained their ground,—Dave lounging in +the middle distance, a grim smile of derision upon his face, and Youth +dodging in with loud offers of service, wherever Mannikin left a point +undefended.</p> + +<p>Caleb, at last, demanding to see the "good conveyance," was led away to +the head of the wharf, when Youth at once seized the opportunity to rush +in, and breathlessly inquire of Mysie,—</p> + +<p>"Wher' ye goin', Ma'am? Wher' ye want to be kerried?"</p> + +<p>"We are going to Gay-Head Light-house; but my"—</p> + +<p>"Ga'ed Light? I kin kerry ye there fust-rate, and cheap too;—kerry ye +there for two dollars!"</p> + +<p>"My husband has already spoken"—</p> + +<p>"Wat! t' ole Ransom? Wy, he a'n't got nothin' but a weelbarry." And +Caleb, returning at the same moment with a somewhat perplexed air, +corroborated this statement by saying,—</p> + +<p>"This man has no carriage, but will get us one in a short time."</p> + +<p>"But this boy," retorted Mysie, "says he has a carriage, and will carry +us to Gay Head for two dollars."</p> + +<p>"You hear that, ole feller?—they're a-goin' with me!" crowed triumphant +Youth at disconcerted Mannikin, who nevertheless rapidly proceeded to +pile the luggage upon his barrow and trundle it away.</p> + +<p>This <i>coup d'état</i> was checked by Caleb, but afterward allowed, upon +discovering that Youth's carriage was still reposing in his father's +stable, "jist up here"; and Mannikin was consoled by being allowed to +earn a quarter of a dollar by transporting the luggage to that +destination. The procession at once set forth, including Dave, who +strolled in the rear, softly whistling, and apparently totally +unconcerned, yet all the while alive with feline watchfulness.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the stable, the travellers were requested to wait there while +Youth went to find his father and "borry a wip."</p> + +<p>At these last words, a "subtle smile, foreboding triumph," broke over +Dave's composed features, as he muttered,—</p> + +<p>"Reckin you'll need one 'fore you reach Ga'ed Light."</p> + +<p>The coast clear, Dave became a little more communicative, expatiated +upon the dangers and discomforts of the road, the incapacity of Youth's +horse, and the improbability that his father would ratify the bargain, +concluding by offering to "do the job himself in good shape for four +dollars," which offer was held in abeyance until we should learn the +result of Youth's interview with his father.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, a matron suddenly made her appearance in the barn, +with a hospitable entreaty that "the woman and child" would come up to +the house and warm themselves; and Caleb strongly advocating the Idea, +Mysie and the Baron proceeded houseward.</p> + +<p>About half-way they encountered Paterfamilias, hastening with Youth +toward the barn, and to him Matron at once recapitulated the affair, +concluding with mentioning the stipulated price. At this Pater turned, +with thunderous brow, toward Youth; but Matron interposed, with womanly +tact,—</p> + +<p>"You can do jest as you like, you know, about lettin' him go; but Dave's +in the barn."</p> + +<p>"Dave in my barn! Wat in thunder's he doin' there? Yes, go, boy,—go for +nothin', if they ask you to, sooner than let that"—</p> + +<p>The rest of the sentence was lost in the distance. But Mysie, following +her guide to the house, felt quite sure of their conveyance; and, in +fact, barely sufficient time elapsed for the hostess to possess herself +of the leading facts in her guests' history, before the carriage was +announced, and our travellers hastened down the lane, and found there +awaiting them the evident model of the Autocrat's "One-Hoss Shay," in +its last five years of senility;—to this was attached a quadruped who +immediately reminded Mysie of a long-forgotten conundrum.</p> + +<p>"What was the first created animal?"</p> + +<p><i>Ans</i>. "Shay-'oss."</p> + +<p>Holding him ostentatiously by the head stood Youth, the "borried" whip +flourished in his right hand, as he invited his passengers to seat +themselves without reference to him.</p> + +<p>This being done and the seat pretty thoroughly filled, Youth perched +himself upon a bag and valise, which filled the front of the vehicle, +and the journey commenced.</p> + +<p>That ride! The first mile was not passed before the meaning of Dave's +malicious smile, at mention of a whip, became painfully apparent; for +never was weapon more perseveringly used, or with so little result, the +cunning old beast falling into a jog-trot at the commencement, from +which no amount of vociferation or whipping could move him.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't hurry him so much," interposed Mysie, her compassion +aroused both for beast and Youth. "I don't like to see a horse whipped +so much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you see, Ma'am, he's so used to it, he won't go noways without it; +feels kind o' lonesome, I 'xpect. It don't hurt him none, nuther; his +skin's got so thick an' tough, that he wouldn't know, if you was to put +bilin' tar on him."</p> + +<p>"Do you feed your horse on oats, much?" inquired Caleb, gravely, after a +long and observant silence.</p> + +<p>"No, Sir, we darsn't give him no oats, 'cause he'd be sure to run away; +doos sometimes, as it is."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need fear it to-day," replied Caleb, quietly, as he +settled himself into the corner, in the vain hope of a nap; but Youth +was now loquaciously inclined.</p> + +<p>"Reck'n Dave was disappinted," said he, with a chuckle. "He meant to +kerry ye himself; but soon's I see him round, I says to myself, says I, +'Ole Chick, you sha'n't come it this time, if I go for nothin'.'"</p> + +<p>"Competition is the soul of trade," drowsily murmured Caleb; but as +Youth turned to inquire, "Whossay?" the bag upon which he was seated, +and upon which, in the enjoyment of his triumph, he had been wriggling +somewhat too vivaciously, suddenly gave way, and a pair of snow-white +hose came tumbling out. They were at once caught and held admiringly up +by Youth, with the ingenuous remark,—</p> + +<p>"How wite them looks! An' if you'll blieve it, mine was jest as clean +yis'day mornin',—an' now you look at 'em!" To facilitate which +inspection, the speaker conscientiously drew up his corduroys, so as +fully to display a pair of home-knit socks, which certainly had wofully +deteriorated from the condition ascribed to them "yis'day mornin'."</p> + +<p>"You see, I went clammin' las' night," pursued Youth; "an' that's death +on clo's."</p> + +<p>"What's clammin'?" inquired the Baron, changing the subject with +unconscious tact, and quite surprised at the admiring kiss bestowed upon +him by his mother, while Youth, readjusting his corduroys, replied with +astonishment,—</p> + +<p>"Clammin'? Wy, clammin's goin' arter clams; didn't ye never eat no +clam-chowder?"</p> + +<p>"N-o, I don't think I ever did," replied the Baron, reflectively. "Is it +like ice-cream?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I never eat none o' that, so I dunno," was the reply; and Youth +and Child, each regarding the other with wondering pity, relapsed into +silence.</p> + +<p>Having now passed from the township of Holmes's Hole into Tisbury, the +road lay through what would have been an oak forest, except that none of +the trees exceeded some four feet in height,—Youth affirming this to be +their mature growth, and that no larger ones had grown since the forest +was cleared by the original settlers. A few miles more were slowly +passed, and Mysie began to look hopefully from every eminence for a +sight of the light-house, when she was stunned by the information, that +they were then entering Chilmark, and were "'bout half-way."</p> + +<p>Caleb, with an exclamation of disgust, leaped from "the shay," and +accomplished the remaining ten miles, wrathfully, on foot,—while Mysie, +wrapping her feminine patience about her as a mantle, resigned herself +to endurance; but Youth, noticing, perhaps, her weary and disconsolate +expression, applied himself sedulously to the task of entertaining her; +and, as a light and airy way of opening the conversation, inquired,—</p> + +<p>"Was you pooty sick aboard the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"That's curous! Women 'most alluz is,—'specially wen it's so ruffly as +it is to-day. Was bubby sick any?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Wa-al, that's very fortnit, for I don't blieve he'll be sick wen he +grows up an' goes walin'. It's pooty tryin', the fust two or three weeks +out, ginerally. How young is he a-goin' to begin?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think he will ever go to sea."</p> + +<p>"Not a-goin' to sea? Wy, his father's a captain, I 'xpect; a'n't he?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Mate, then, a'n't he?"</p> + +<p>"He is not a sailor at all."</p> + +<p>"Ha'n't never ben to sea?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>Oh, the look of wide-mouthed astonishment which took possession of +Youth's hitherto vacant features, at thus encountering a strong-looking +man, in the prime of life, who had never been to sea, and a healthy, +sturdy boy, whose parents did not mean that he ever should! He had no +more to say; every faculty was, for at least an hour, devoted to the +contemplation of these <i>lusus naturæ</i>, thus presented to his vision.</p> + +<p>At last, the road, which had long been in a condition of ominous +second-childhood, suddenly died a natural death at the foot of a steep +hill, where a rail-fence presented itself as a barrier to farther +progress. The bars were soon removed by Youth, who triumphantly +announced, as Cha-os walked slowly through the opening thus presented,—</p> + +<p>"Now we're on Ga'ed, an' I'll run along and take down the next bars, if +you kin drive. Git along, Tom,—you ha'n't got nothin' but two feathers +ahind you now."</p> + +<p>"How far is it to the Light-house?" inquired Mysie, faintly.</p> + +<p>"Ony 'bout four mild," was the discouraging reply, as Youth "loped" on +in advance.</p> + +<p>"Four mild!" and such miles! The only road, a faint track in the grass, +now undiscernible in the gathering gloom, now on the slope of steep +hills marked by deep gullies worn by the impetuous autumn rains, and +down which the poor old "shay" jerked along in a series of bumps and +jolts threatening to demolish at once that patriarchal vehicle and the +bones of its occupants.</p> + +<p>At last, however, from the top of one of these declivities, the +brilliant, flashing light of the long-watched-for Pharos greeted Mysie's +despairing eyes, and woke new hopes of warmth, rest, and shelter. But +never did bewildering <i>ignisfatuus</i> retire more persistently from the +pursuit of unwary traveller than did that Light-house from the occupants +of that creaking "shay"; and it was not till total darkness had settled +upon the earth that they reached its door, and discovered, by the +lamplight streaming out, that Caleb stood in the entrance, awaiting +their arrival.</p> + +<p>As the chaise stopped, he came forward and lifted the stiff and weary +forms of "the woman and child" to the ground, and delivered them to the +guidance of the hostess.</p> + +<p>The first aspect of affairs was somewhat discouraging,—the parlor into +which they were ushered being without fire and but dimly lighted, the +bedroom not yet prepared for toilet purposes, and the hostess, as she +averred, entirely unprepared for company.</p> + +<p>Left alone in the dreary parlor, Caleb subsided into moody silence, and +Mysie into tears, upon which the Baron followed suit, and produced such +a ludicrous state of affairs, that the sobs which had evoked his changed +to an irrepressible laugh, in which all parties soon joined. This +pleasant frame of mind was speedily encouraged and augmented, first, by +water and towels <i>ad libitum</i>, and then by an introduction to the +dining-room, in whose ample grate now roared a fire, of what our +travellers were informed was peat,—an article supplying, in the absence +of all other indigenous fuel, nearly every chimney upon the island.</p> + +<p>A good cup of tea and a substantial supper prepared the trio to accept +the invitation of the excellent Mr. F. (the chief keeper, and their +host) to go up with him "into the Light."</p> + +<p>And now our travellers suddenly found that they had made a pilgrimage +unawares. They had come to the island for sea-air and pebbles, to shoot +ducks, see the Indians, and find out who Martha was, and had come to the +Light-house, as the only "white" dwelling upon the Head,—the rest +being all occupied by the descendants of the red men,—and now found +themselves applauded by their host for having "come so far to see our +Light;—not so far as some, either," continued he, "for we have had +visitors from every part of the Union,—even from Florida; every one who +understands such things is so anxious to see it."</p> + +<p>"Why, is it different from common light-houses?" carelessly inquired +Caleb.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Haven't you come on purpose to see it?" asked the +keeper, in astonishment,—and then proceeded to explain, that this is +the famous Fresnel light, the identical structure exhibited at the great +Exposition at Paris, bought there by an agent of the United States, and +shipped by him to America.</p> + +<p>Owing, however, to some inexplicable blunder, its arrival was not made +known to the proper authorities,—and the papers which should have +accompanied it being lost or not delivered, no one at the custom-house +knew what the huge case contained. It was deposited in a bonded +warehouse during the legal interval, but, never having been claimed, was +then sold, still unexamined, to the highest bidder. He soon identified +his purchase, and proceeded to make his own profit out of it,—the +consequence being that government at last discovered that the Fresnel +light had been some two years in this country, and was then upon +exhibition, if the President and cabinet would like to take a peep. The +particulars of the bargain which ensued did not transpire, but it +resulted in the lantern being repacked and reshipped to Gay Head, its +original destination.</p> + +<p>While hearing this little history, the party were breathlessly climbing +three steep iron staircases, the last of which ended at a trap-door, +giving admittance to the clock-room, where the keeper generally sits; +from here another ladder-like staircase leads up into the lantern. +Arrived at the top, the Baron screamed with delight at the gorgeous +spectacle before him.</p> + +<p>The lamp (into the four concentric wicks of which a continual and +superabundant supply of oil is forced by a species of clock-work, +causing a flame of dazzling brilliancy) is surrounded by a revolving +cover, about eight feet high by four or five in diameter, and in shape +like the hand-glasses with which gardeners cover tender plants, or the +shades which one sees over fancy clocks and articles of <i>bijouterie</i>. +This cover is composed of over six hundred pieces of glass, arranged in +a complicated and scientific system of lenses and prisms, very difficult +to comprehend, but very beautiful in the result; for every ray of light +from that brilliant flame is shivered into a thousand glittering arrows, +reflected, refracted, tinted with all the rainbow hues, and finally +projected through the clear plate-glass windows of the lantern with all +the force and brilliancy of a hundred rays. If any one cares to +understand more clearly the why and the how, let him either go and see +for himself or read about it in Brande's Encyclopædia. Mysie and the +Baron were content to bask ignorantly in the glittering, ever-changing, +ever-flowing flood of light, dreaming of Fairy Land, and careless of +philosophy. Only so much heed did they give to the outer world as always +to place themselves upon the landward side of the lantern, lest +unwittingly their forms should hide one ray of the blessed light from +those for whose good it was put there.</p> + +<p>Caleb, meanwhile, sat with his host in the clock-room, smoking many a +meerschaum, and listening to the keeper's talk about his beautiful +charge,—a pet as well as a duty with him, obviously.</p> + +<p>With the same fond pride with which a mother affects to complain of the +care she lavishes upon her darling child would the old man speak of the +time necessary to keep his six hundred lenses clear and spotless, each +one being rubbed daily with softest doeskin saturated with <i>rouge</i>, to +keep the windows of the lantern free from constantly accumulating saline +incrustations,—of the care with which the lamp, when burning, must be +watched, lest intrusive fly or miller should drown in the great +reservoir of oil and be drawn into the air-passages. This duty, and the +necessity of winding up the "clock" (which forces the oil up into the +wick) every half-hour, require a constant watch to be kept through the +night, which is divided between the chief and two assistant keepers.</p> + +<p>The morning after their arrival, our travellers, strong with the vigor +of the young day, set forth to explore the cliffs, bidding adieu to +original Youth, who, standing ready to depart, beside his horse, was +carolling the following ditty in glorification of his native town:—</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>Ga'ed Light is out o' sight,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>Menemshee Crik is sandy,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>Holmes's Hole's a pooty place,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>An' Oldtown Pint's onhandy."</span></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>(Oldtown being synonymous with Edgartown, the rival seaport.)</p> + +<p>Leaving this young patriot to his national anthem, a walk of a few +hundred feet through deep sword-edged grass brought our explorers to the +edge of a cliff, down which they gazed with awe-hushed breath. Below +them, at a depth of a hundred and fifty feet, the thunderous waves beat +upon the foot of the cliff over whose brink they peered, and which, +stern and impassive as it had stood for ages, frowned back with the mute +strength of endurance upon the furious, eager waves, which now and again +dashed themselves fiercely against its front, only to be flung back +shattered into a thousand glittering fragments.</p> + +<p>The cliffs themselves are very curious and beautiful, being composed of +red and black ochre, the largest cliff showing the one color on its +northern and the other on its southern face. The forms are +various,—some showing a sheer descent, with no vestige of earth or +vegetation, their faces seamed with scars won in the elemental war which +they have so long withstood. In other spots the cliff has been rent into +sharp pinnacles, varied and beautiful in hue.</p> + +<p>One spot, in particular, which became Mysie's favorite resort, was at +once singular and beautiful in its conformation. About three feet above +the water's edge lay a level plateau, its floor of loose, sandy, black +conglomerate, abounding in sparkling bits of quartz and sulphate of +iron; beneath this lay a bed of beautifully marbled and variegated clay, +its edge showing all along the black border of the plateau like the +brilliant wreath with which a brunette binds her dusky hair. Blocks of +this clay, fallen upon the beach, and wet with every flowing wave, lay +glistening in the sunlight and looking like—</p> + +<p>"Castile soap, mamma," suggested the Baron, as Mysie was describing the +scene in his presence, and hesitated for a simile.</p> + +<p>At the back of the terrace, which, in its widest part, measured some +fifty feet, rose suddenly and sharply the pinnacled cliffs, some snowy +white, some black, some deep red, and others a cold gray. At either hand +they extended quite down to the water's edge, so that, seated upon the +plateau, nothing met the eye but ocean, sky, and cliffs; no work of man +struck a discordant note in the grand harmony of these three simple, +mighty elements of creation.</p> + +<p>Mysie sometimes took a book here with her, but it was not a place to +read in; the scene crushed and dwarfed human thoughts and words to +nothingness; and to repeat to the ocean himself what had been said of +him by the loftiest even of poets seemed tame and impertinent.</p> + +<p>These cliffs extend about a mile along the shore, and then suddenly give +place to a broad sandy beach, behind which lies a level, desolate moor, +treeless, shrubless, and barren of all vegetation, save coarse grass and +weeds, and a profusion of stunted dog-roses, which, in their season, +must throw a rare and singular charm over their sterile home.</p> + +<p>The beach, though smooth and even, is not flat, like those of Nantasket, +Nahant, and Newport, but shelves rapidly down; and there is a belief +among the islanders, that a short distance out it terminates suddenly at +the brow of a submarine precipice, beyond which are no soundings.</p> + +<p>Owing to the sharp declivity of the beach, the rollers break with great +force, and the surf is very high. At one point is grouped a cluster of +rocks, half in the water, half on the beach, among which, as the tide +comes in, the waves break with furious force, dashing high over the +outermost barrier, and then plunging and leaping forward, like a troop +of wild horses, their white manes flung high in air, as they leap +forward over one and another of the obstacles in their path.</p> + +<p>Perched upon the crest of one of these half-submerged rocks, watching +the mad waves fling themselves exhausted at her feet, it was Mysie's +delight to sit, enjoying the half danger of her position, and retreating +only when the waters had many times closed behind her throne, leaving, +in their momentary absence, but a wet and slippery path back to the +beach.</p> + +<p>Along this beach, too, lay the road to Squipnocket, a pond famed for its +immense flocks of wild geese and ducks,—fame shared by Menemshee Creek +and Pond, as well as several others of similar aboriginal titles.</p> + +<p>To these repaired, almost daily, Caleb, accompanied by one or another of +his host's five sons; and the result of their efforts with the gun was +no inconsiderable addition to the table at Ga'ed Light.</p> + +<p>But greatest of all the wonders at the Head are the Fossil Cliffs.</p> + +<p>A short time after the arrival of our travellers, their hostess inquired +if they had yet found any fossils. Mysie frankly confessed that they did +not know there were any to find, which was evidently as great a surprise +to Mrs. F. as their ignorance of the Fresnel light had been to her +husband. She at once offered the services of her daughter Clarissa as +guide and assistant, and gave glowing accounts of the treasures to be +found. The offer was gladly accepted; and Clarissa, a merry little romp, +about twelve years old, soon made her appearance, armed with a pickaxe, +hoe, and basket.</p> + +<p>Thus laden, and in the teeth of a shrewd northeast wind, the little +barefooted pioneer led the way directly over the brow of a cliff, which, +had Mysie been alone, she would have pronounced entirely impracticable. +Now, however, fired with a lofty emulation, she silently followed her +guide, grasping, however, at every shrub and protection with somewhat +convulsive energy.</p> + +<p>"Here's a good place," announced Clarissa, pausing where a shelf of +gravelly rock afforded tolerable foothold. "Professor Hitchcock told +father that in here were strata of the tertiary formation, and there's +where we get the fossils."</p> + +<p>"But how do you come at the tertiary formation through all this sand and +gravel?" asked Mysie, aghast at the prospect.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dig; that's why I brought the pick and hoe; we must dig a hole +about a foot deep, and then we shall come to the stuff that has the +fossils in it. You may have the hoe, and I'll take the pick, 'cause +that's the hardest."</p> + +<p>"Then let me have it; I am stronger than you," exclaimed Mysie, suddenly +roused to enthusiasm at the idea of "picking" her way into the tertiary +formation of the earth, and exhuming its fossilized remains.</p> + +<p>Seizing the pickaxe, she aimed a mighty blow at the clay and gravel +conglomerate before her; but the instrument, falling wide of its +intended mark, struck upon a rock, and sent such a jarring thrill up +both her arms and such a tingle to her fingers' ends as suddenly +quenched her antiquarian zeal, and reminded her of a frightful account +she once read of a convent of nuns captured by some brutal potentate, +who forced them to mend his highways by breaking stones upon them with +very heavy hammers; and the historian mentioned, as a common +occurrence, that, when any sister dislocated her shoulder, one of her +comrades would set it, and the sufferer would then resume her labors.</p> + +<p>Mysie, having this warning before her eyes, and being doubtful of +Clarissa's surgical abilities, concluded to postpone her researches, and +proposed to her companion to fill the basket with shells and pebbles +from the beach, to which cowardly proposition Clarissa yielded but a +reluctant consent.</p> + +<p>The next day, however, Mr. F. and Caleb, learning the result of the +fossil-search, offered to apply their more efficient skill and strength +to a new attempt in the same direction; and, with high hopes for the +result, Mysie, still accompanied by Clarissa, proceeded to another +portion of the cliffs, where a low, wedge-shaped promontory, shadowed by +beetling crags, was, as Mr. F. confidently stated, "sure for teeth."</p> + +<p>The pickaxe, in the sinewy arms of its owner, soon dislodged great cakes +of the upper deposit and laid bare a stratum of olive-green clay, which +was announced to be a fossil-bed. Lumps of this clay being broken off +and crumbled up, proved indeed rich in deposit. They found sharks' +teeth, the edges still sharply serrated, firmly set in pieces of the +jawbone,—whales' teeth,—vertebrae of various species,—fragments of +bone, great and small,—several species of shell-fish, among which +chiefly abounded a kind called quahaug,—and many nondescript fragments, +not easily classified. One of these was a little bone closely resembling +the tibia of a child's leg, and may have belonged to some antediluvian +infant lost at sea, (if Noah's ancestors were mariners,) or perhaps +drowned in the Deluge,—for Mr. F. quoted an eminent geologist who has +visited the Vineyard, and who supposed these remains to have been +brought here by that mighty Flood-tide. Another <i>savant</i>, however, +supposes the island to have been thrown up from the sea by volcanic +action; and that the fossils, now imbedded in cliffs a hundred feet +high, were once deposited upon the bed of the ocean. There is certainly +a great amount of conglomerate, which has evidently been fused by +intense heat; and masses of rock, sea-pebbles, sand, and iron-ore are +now as firmly integrated as a piece of granite.</p> + +<p>However, the fossils came; here they certainly are; many of them perfect +in form, and light and porous to the eye, but all hard and heavy as +stone to the touch. Teeth, which are considered the most valuable of all +the remains, are sometimes found as wide as a man's hand, and weighing +several pounds; but Mysie was quite content with the more insignificant +weight of those which filled her basket, especially when an immense +reticulated paving-stone was added, which Mr. F. pronounced to be a +whale's vertebra. She then was induced to trust the precious collection +to Caleb's care, the more willingly that the ascent of the cliffs was +now to be attempted. This was easily and quickly accomplished by Mr. F. +and his little son, by going to the right spot before beginning to +climb; but Mysie declaring that the ascent was quite practicable where +they were, Caleb and Clarissa felt bound in honor to accompany her. For +some distance, all went very well,—the face of the cliff presuming +slight inequalities of surface, which answered for foot-and hand-holds, +and not being very steep; but suddenly Mysie, the leader of the group, +arriving within about three feet of the top, found the rock above her so +smooth as to give no possible foothold by which she might reach the +strong, coarse grass which nodded tauntingly to her over the brink.</p> + +<p>Clinging closely to the face of the cliff, she turned her head to +announce to Caleb that she could not go on, and, in turning, looked +down. Before this she had felt no fear, only perplexity; but the sight +of those cruel rocks below,—the hollow booming of the waves, as they +lashed the foot of the cliff,—the consciousness that a fall of a +hundred feet awaited her, should she let go her hold,—all this struck +terror to Mysie's heart; and while a heavy, confused noise came +throbbing and ringing through her head, she shut her eyes, and fancied +she had seen her last of earth.</p> + +<p>In an instant Caleb was beside her,—his arm about her, holding her +safely where she was; but to continue was impossible for either.</p> + +<p>"Ho! Mr. F.!" shouted Caleb; "come this way, will you, and give my wife +your hand? She is a little frightened, and can't go on."</p> + +<p>Presently a stout arm and hand appeared from among that nodding, mocking +grass, and a cheery voice exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Here, my dear lady, take right hold, strong;—you can't pull me +over,—not if you try to."</p> + +<p>Unclasping, with some difficulty, her fingers from the rock, into which +they seemed to have grown, Mysie grasped the proffered hand, and the +next moment was safe upon the turf.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my good gracious!" muttered the kind old man; but whether the +exclamation was caused by Mysie's face, pale, no doubt, by the effort +necessary to raise her half-fainting figure, or by the idea of the peril +in which she had been, did not appear.</p> + +<p>Clarissa, calm and equable, was next passed up by Caleb, who, declining +the proffered hand, drew himself up, by a firm grasp upon the rocky +scarp of the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Guess you was scart some then, wa'n't you?" inquired Clarissa, as the +party walked homeward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" replied Mysie, quickly. "But I could not get over the top of +the cliff alone,—it was so steep."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was the matter?" drawled the child, with a sidelong glance of +her sharp black eyes.</p> + +<p>The northeast wind which went fossilizing with Mysie and Clara on their +first excursion was the precursor of a furious storm of rain and wind, +ranking, according to the dictum of experienced weatherseers, as little +inferior to that famous one in which fell the Minot's Ledge Light-house.</p> + +<p>As the gale reached its height, it was a sight at once terrible and +beautiful, to watch, standing in the lantern, the goaded sea, whose +foam-capped waves could plainly be seen at the horizon line, breaking +here and there upon sunken rocks, over which in their playful moods they +scarcely rippled, but on which they now dashed with such white fury as +to make them discernible, even through the darkness of night. One long, +low ridge of submarine rocks, around which seethed a perpetual caldron, +was called the Devil's Bridge; but when erected, or for what purpose, +tradition failed to state.</p> + +<p>Never, surely, did the wind rave about a peaceful inland dwelling as it +did about that lonely light-house for two long nights. It roared, it +howled, it shrieked, it whistled; it drew back to gather strength, and +then rushed to the attack with such mad fury, that the strong, young +light-house, whose frame was all of iron and stone, shrunk trembling +before it, and the children in their beds screamed aloud for fear. But +through all and beyond all, the calm, strong light sent out its +piercing, warning rays into the black night; and who can tell what +sinner it may that night have prevented from crossing the Devil's Bridge +to the world which lies beyond?</p> + +<p>There was but one wreck during the storm, so far as our travellers +heard; and in this the lives were saved. Two men, caught out in a +fishing-smack, finding that their little vessel was foundering, betook +themselves to their small boat; but this filled more rapidly than they +could bale it; and they had just given themselves up for lost, when +their signals of distress were observed on board the light-ship +stationed near Newport, which sent a life-boat to their assistance, and +rescued them just as their little boat went to pieces.</p> + +<p>When Mysie heard this occurrence mentioned, as they were journeying +homeward, it recalled to her mind a little incident of the day +succeeding the storm.</p> + +<p>Walking with Clara upon the beach, they saw borne toward them, on the +crest of a mighty wave, a square beam of wood, bent at an obtuse angle, +which Clara at once pronounced to be the knee from some large boat, and, +rushing dauntlessly into the water, the energetic little maid battled +with the wave for its unwieldy toy, and finally dragged it triumphantly +out upon the beach, and beyond the reach of the wave, only wishing that +she had "a piece of chalk to make father's mark upon it." Failing the +chalk, she rushed off home for "father and one of the boys," who soon +bestowed the prize in a place of safety.</p> + +<p>Mysie at first wondered considerably that persons should take so much +trouble for a piece of wood, but ceased to do so when she remembered +that on the whole island could not probably be found a tree of a foot in +diameter, and that everything like board or joist at the light-house +must be brought by sea to Holmes's Hole, Edgartown, or Menemshee, and +thence carted over <i>that</i> road to Gay Head, becoming, by the time it +reached "the Light," not a common necessary, but an expensive luxury. +She was not, therefore, surprised at being accompanied in her next walk +along the beach by quite a little party of wreckers, who, joyfully +seizing every chip which the waves tossed within their reach, +accumulated at last a very respectable pile of drift-wood.</p> + +<p>"It would be a good thing for you, if the schooner "Mary Ann" should go +to pieces off here," remarked Mysie to Clara, who had become her +constant attendant.</p> + +<p>"Why?" inquired she, expectantly.</p> + +<p>"On account of her cargo. When hailed by another ship, and asked his +name, the captain replied,—</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>'</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>I'm Jonathan Homer, master and owner</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>Of the schooner Mary Ann;</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'>She comes from Pank-a-tank, laden with oak plank,</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span style='margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%;'>And bound to Surinam.'"</span></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>"Did he <i>really</i> say so?" asked Clara, sharply.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Mysie, laughing; "but that's what I heard about it +when I was a little girl."</p> + +<p>While the storm continued too violent for out-of-door exercise, Mysie +cultivated an acquaintance with a remarkably pleasant and intelligent +lady who fortunately was making a visit at the light-house. She had been +for many years a resident of the Vineyard, and had taken great interest +in its history, both past and present. From her Mysie derived much +curious and interesting information.</p> + +<p>It seems that the island was first discovered by a certain Thomas +Mayhew, who, voyaging with others to settle in the Plymouth Colony +during its early days, was driven by stress of weather into a safe and +commodious bay, now Edgartown harbor, but then seen and used for the +first time by white men. The storm over, his companions prepared to +resume their voyage; but Mayhew, seeing the land fair and pleasant to +look upon, decided to remain there, and landed with whoever in the ship +belonged to him.</p> + +<p>He, of course, found the land in the hands of its original possessors, a +small and peaceful tribe of Indians, living quietly upon their own +island, and having very little communication with their neighbors. With +them Thomas Mayhew bargained for what land he wanted, selecting it in +what is now the town of Chilmark, and paying for it, to the satisfaction +of all parties, with an old soldier's coat which happened to be among +his possessions.</p> + +<p>In process of time, one of his sons, named Experience, having been +educated for the purpose in England, returned to his father's home as a +missionary to the kind and hospitable savages among whom he dwelt. So +prosperous were the labors of himself, and afterward of his son +Zachariah, that in a journal, kept by the latter, it is mentioned that +there were then upon the island twelve thousand "praying Indians."</p> + +<p>Experience Mayhew is still spoken of as "the great Indian missionary," +and the house in which he lived was still standing a few years since +upon the farm of Mr. Hancock in Chilmark.</p> + +<p>The island is to this day full of Mayhews of every degree,—so far, at +least, as distinctions of rank have obtained among this isolated and +primitive people.</p> + +<p>When Massachusetts erected herself into a State, and included the +Vineyard within her bounds, it was divided into the townships of +Edgartown, (or Oldtown,) Holmes's Hole, Tisbury, and Chilmark, and the +district of Gay Head, which last, with the island of Chip-a-quid-dick, +off Edgartown, and a small tract of land in Tisbury, named +Christian-town, were made over in perpetuity to the Indians who chose to +remain. They have not the power of alienating any portion of this +territory, nor may any white man build or dwell there. If, however, one +of the tribe marry out of the community, the alien husband or wife may +come to live with the native spouse so long as the marriage continues; +and the Indians have taken advantage of this permission to intermarry +with the negroes, until there is not one pure-blooded descendant of the +original stock remaining, and its physiognomy and complexion are in most +cases undistinguishable in the combination of the two races.</p> + +<p>Gay Head contains eleven hundred acres, seven of which are the +birthright of every Indian child; but it is not generally divided by +fences, the cattle of the whole tribe grazing together in amicable +companionship. Much of the value of the property lies in the +cranberry-meadows, which are large and productive, and in the beds of +rich peat. A great deal of the soil, however, is valuable for +cultivation, although but little used, as the majority of the men follow +the example of their white co-islanders, and plough the sea instead of +the land. They make excellent seamen, and sometimes rise to the rank of +officers, although few white sailors are sufficiently liberal in their +views to approve of being commanded by "a nigger," as they persist in +calling these half-breeds.</p> + +<p>The wigwams, which, no doubt, were at first erected here, have given +place to neat and substantial frame buildings, as comfortable, +apparently, as those in many New England villages. There is also a +nice-looking Baptist church, of which denomination almost every adult is +a member. Near this is a parsonage, occupied until lately by a white +clergyman; but the spirit of Experience Mayhew is not common in these +days; and his successor, finding the parish lonely and uncongenial, +removed to a pleasanter one,—his pulpit being now filled by a preacher +from among the Indians themselves.</p> + +<p>Mysie took occasion to call at one of these <i>quasi</i> wigwams, soon after +her arrival, but could discern only one aboriginal vestige in either +inhabitants or customs. This existed in the shape of a dish of +succotash, (corn and beans boiled together,) which the good woman was +preparing for breakfast,—very possibly in ignorance that her ancestors +had cooked and eaten and named the compound ages before the white +intruders ever saw their shore.</p> + +<p>Mysie pursued her morning walk in a somewhat melancholy mood. It is a +sad and dreary sight to behold a nation in decay; saddest when the fall +is from so slight an elevation as that on which the savage stood. Greece +and Rome, falling into old age, proudly boast, "Men cannot say I did not +<i>have</i> the crown"; each shows undying, unsurpassable achievements of her +day of power and strength,—each, if she live no longer in the sight of +the world, is sure of dwelling forever in its memory. But the +aboriginal, when his simple routine of life is broken up by the +intrusion of a people more powerful, more wicked, and more wise than +himself, is incapable of exchanging his own purely physical ambitions +and pursuits for the intellectual and cultivated life belonging to the +better class of his conquerors, while his wild and sensuous nature +grasps eagerly at the new forms of vice which follow in their train. +Civilization to the savage destroys his own existence, and gives him no +better one,—destroys it irremediably and forever. The life sufficient +for himself and for the day is not that which stretches its hand into +the future and sets its mark on ages not yet born; it dies and is +forgotten,—forgotten even by the descendants of those who lived it.</p> + +<p>Some of the Indian names still survive; and Mysie's indignation was +roused, when a descendant of the Mayhews, pointing out the hamlets of +Menemshee and Nashaquitsa, (commonly called Quitsy,) added, +contemptuously,—</p> + +<p>"But them's only nicknames given by the colored folks; it's all Chilmark +by rights."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they are the names used by the ancestors of these Indians, +before a white man ever saw the island,—are they not?" inquired she, +somewhat dryly.</p> + +<p>"Like enough, like enough," replied the other, carelessly, and not in +the least appreciating the rebuke.</p> + +<p>From the lady before referred to Mysie received an answer to her +oft-repeated question,—</p> + +<p>"Is there any tradition how the island received its name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," was the unexpected and welcome answer. "All the islands near +here were granted by the King of England to a gentleman whose name is +forgotten; but he had four daughters, among whom he divided his new +possessions.</p> + +<p>"This one, remarkable then, as now, in a degree, for its abundance of +wild grapes, he gave to Martha as her Vineyard.</p> + +<p>"The group to the north, consisting of Pennikeese, Cuttyhunk, Nashawena, +Naushon, Pasqui, and Punkatasset, are called the Elizabeth Islands, from +the daughter who inherited them.</p> + +<p>"That little island to the southwest of us was Naomi's portion. It is +now called Noman's Land, and is remarkable only for the fine quality of +the codfish caught and cured there.</p> + +<p>"The strangest of all, however, was the name given to the island +selected by Ann, which was first called Nan-took-it, and is now known as +Nantucket."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven, that I at last know something about Martha!" ejaculated +Mysie.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At length, every corner filled with <i>specimens</i>, every face deeply +imbrowned by sun and wind, and the Baron with only the ghost of a pair +of shoes to his feet, our travellers set their faces homeward,—Caleb +resolving to renew his acquaintance with the birds at some future +period, his imagination having been quite inflamed by the accounts of +plover and grouse to be found here in their season. The latter, however, +are very strictly protected by law during most of the season, on account +of the rapidity with which they were disappearing. They are identical +with the prairie-fowl, so common at the West, and are said to be +delicious eating.</p> + +<p>Desirous to improve their minds and manners by as much travel as +possible, the trio resolved to leave the island by the way of Edgartown, +the terminus of the steamboat route. Bidding adieu to their kind and +obliging host and hostess, the twelve children, and the pleasant new +friend, they set out, upon the most charming of all autumn days, for +Edgartown, fully prepared to be dazzled by its beauty and confounded by +its magnificence.</p> + +<p>"Edgartown is a much finer place than Holmes's Hole, I understand," +remarked Caleb to their driver.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dunno; it's some bigger," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"But it is a better sort of place, I am told; people from Edgartown +don't seem to think much of Holmes's Hole."</p> + +<p>"No, nor the Holmes's Hole folks don't think much of Oldtown; it's +pretty much according to who you talk to, which place is called the +handsomest, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Athens or Rome, London or Paris, Oldtown or Holmes's Hole, Mysie," +murmured Caleb, as their driver stopped to reply to the driver of "a +team," who was anxious to know when he was "a-goin' to butcher agin."</p> + +<p>Edgartown proved to be a pretty little seaside town, with some handsome +wooden houses, a little bank, and a very nice tavern, at which the +travellers received very satisfactory entertainment. The next day, +reembarking upon the "Eagle's Wing," they soon reached New Bedford.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="OCTOBER_TO_MAY" id="OCTOBER_TO_MAY" />OCTOBER TO MAY.</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The day that brightens half the earth</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is night to half. Ah, sweet!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">One's mourning is another's mirth;—</span><br /> + You wear your bright years like a crown,—<br /> + While mine, dead garlands, tangle down<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">In chains about my feet.</span><br /> + <br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The breeze which wakes the folded flower</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sweeps dead leaves from the tree;—</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">So partial Time, as hour by hour</span><br /> + He tells the rapid years,—cheu!<br /> + Brings bloom and beauty still to you,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">But leaves his blight with me.</span><br /> + <br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rain which calls the violet up</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Out of the moistened mould</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shatters the wind-flower's fragile cup;—</span><br /> + For even Nature has her pets,<br /> + And, favoring the new, forgets<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">To love and spare the old.</span><br /> + <br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The shower which makes the bud a rose</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Beats off the lilac-bloom.</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am a lilac,—so life goes,—</span><br /> + A lilac that has outlived May;—<br /> + You are a blush-rose. Welladay!<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">I pass, and give you room!</span><br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_ELEUSINIA" id="THE_ELEUSINIA" /><span class='smcap'>The Eleusinia.</span></h3> + + +<p>What did the Eleusinia mean? Perhaps, reader, you think the question of +little interest. "The Eleusinia! Why, Lobeck made that little matter +clear long ago; and there was Porphyry, who told us that the whole thing +was only an illustration of the Platonic philosophy. St. Croix, too,—he +made the affair as clear as day!"</p> + +<p>But the question is not so easily settled, my friend; and I insist upon +it that you <i>have</i> an interest in it. Were I to ask you the meaning of +Freemasonry, you would think <i>that</i> of importance; you could not utter +the name without wonder; and it may be that there is even more wonder in +it than you suspect,—though you be an arch-mason yourself. But in sight +of Eleusis, freemasonry sinks into insignificance. For, of all races, +the Grecian was the most mysterious; and, of all Grecian mysteries, the +Eleusinia were <i>the</i> mysteries <i>par excellence</i>. They must certainly +have meant something to Greece,—something more than can ever be +adequately known to us. A farce is soon over; but the Eleusinia reached +from the mythic Eumolpus to Theodosius the Great,—nearly two thousand +years. Think you that all Athens, every fifth year, for more than sixty +generations, went to Eleusis to witness and take part in a sham?</p> + +<p>But, reader, let <i>us</i> go to Eleusis, and see, for ourselves, this great +festival. Suppose it to be the 15th of September, B.C. 411, Anno Mundi +3593 (though we would not make oath to that). It is a fine morning at +Athens, and every one is astir, for it is the day of assembling together +at Eleusis. Then, for company, we shall have Plato, now eighteen years +old, Sophocles, an old man of eighty-four, Euripides, at sixty-nine, and +Aristophanes, at forty-five. Socrates, who has his peculiar notions +about things, is not one of the initiated, but will go with us, if we +ask him. These are the <i>élite</i> of Athens. Then there are the Sophists +and their young disciples, and the vast crowd of the Athenian people. +Some of the oldest among them may have seen and heard the "Prometheus +Vinctus"; certainly very many of them have seen "Antigone," and +"Oedipus," and "Electra"; and all of them have heard the Rhapsodists. +Great wonders have they seen and heard, which, in their appeal to the +heart, transcend all the wonders of this nineteenth century. Not more +fatal to the poor Indian was modern civilization, bringing swift ruin to +his wigwam and transforming his hunting-grounds into the sites of +populous cities, than modern improvements would have been to the Greek. +Modern strategy! What a subject for Homer would the siege of Troy have +been, had it consisted of a series of pitched battles with rifles! +Railways, steamboats, and telegraphs, annihilating space and time, would +also have annihilated the Argonautic expedition and the wanderings of +Ulysses. There would have been little fear, in a modern steamship, of +the Sirens' song; one whistle would have broken the charm. A modern +steamship might have borne Ulysses to Hades,—but it would never have +brought him back, as his own ship did. And now do you think a ride to +Eleusis by railway to-day would strike this Athenian populace, to say +nothing of the philosophers and poets we have along with us?</p> + +<p>But they are thinking of Eleusis, and not of the way to Eleusis; so that +we may as well keep our suggestion to ourselves,—also those pious +admonitions which we were just about to administer to our companions on +heathenish superstitions. A strange fascination these Athenians have; +and before we are aware, <i>our</i> thoughts, too, are centred in Eleusis, +whither are tending, not Athens only, but vast multitudes from all +Greece. Their movement is tumultuous; but it is a tumult of natural +enthusiasm, and not of Bacchic frenzy. If Athens be, as Milton calls +her, "the eye of Greece," surely Eleusis must be its heart!</p> + +<p>There are nine days of the festival. This first is the day of the +<i>agurmos</i>, (<i>αγυρμος</i> [Greek: agyrmos],) or assembling together the flux of +Grecian life into the secret chambers of its Eleusinian heart. To-morrow +is the day of purification; then, "To the sea, all ye that are +initiated!" (<i>Αλαδε, μυσται!</i> [Greek: Alade, mystai!]) lest any come with the stain of +impurity to the mysteries of God. The third day is the day of +sacrifices, that the heart also may be made pure, when are offered +barley from the fields of Eleusis and a mullet. All other sacrifices may +be tasted; but <i>this</i> is for Demeter alone, and not to be touched by +mortal lips. On the fourth day, we join the procession bearing the +sacred basket of the goddess, filled with curious symbols, grains of +salt, carded wool, sesame, pomegranates, and poppies,—symbols of the +gifts of our Great Mother and of her mighty sorrow. On the night of the +fifth, we are lost in the hurrying tumult of the torch-light +processions. Then there is the sixth day, the great day of all, when +from Athens the statue of Iacchus (Bacchus) is borne, crowned with +myrtle, tumultuously through the sacred gate, along the sacred way, +halting by the sacred fig-tree, (all sacred, mark you, from Eleusinian +associations,) where the procession rests, and then moves on to the +bridge over the Cephissus, where again it rests, and where the +expression of the wildest grief gives place to the trifling farce,—even +as Demeter, in the midst of her grief, smiled at the levity of Iambe in +the palace of Celeus. Through the "mystical entrance" we enter Eleusis. +On the seventh day, games are celebrated; and to the victor is given a +measure of barley,—as it were a gift direct from the hand of the +goddess. The eighth is sacred to Aesculapius, the Divine Physician, who +heals all diseases; and in the evening is performed the initiatory +ritual.</p> + +<p>Let us enter the mystic temple and be initiated,—though it must be +supposed that a year ago we were initiated into the Lesser Mysteries at +Agræ. ("<i>Certamen enim,—et præludium certaminis; et mysteria sunt quæ +præcedunt mysteria</i>.") We must have been <i>mystæ</i> (veiled) before we can +become <i>epoptæ</i> (seers); in plain English, we must have shut our eyes to +all else before we can behold the mysteries. Crowned with myrtle, we +enter with the other <i>mystæ</i> into the vestibule of the temple,—blind as +yet, but the Hierophant within will soon open our eyes.</p> + +<p>But first,—for here we must do nothing rashly,—first we must wash in +this holy water; for it is with pure hands and a pure heart that we are +bidden to enter the most sacred inclosure. Then, led into the presence +of the Hierophant, he reads to us, from a book of stone, things which we +must not divulge on pain of death. Let it suffice that they fit the +place and the occasion; and though you might laugh at them, if they were +spoken outside, still you seem very far from that mood now, as you hear +the words of the old man (for old he always was) and look upon the +revealed symbols. And very far indeed are you from ridicule, when +Demeter seals, by her own peculiar utterances and signals, by vivid +coruscations of light, and cloud piled upon cloud, all that we have seen +and heard from her sacred priest; and when, finally, the light of a +serene wonder fills the temple, and we see the pure fields of Elysium +and hear the choirs of the Blessed;—then, not merely by external +seeming or philosophic interpretation, but in real fact, does the +Hierophant become the Creator and Revealer of all things; the Sun is but +his torch-bearer, the Moon his attendant at the altar, and Hermes his +mystic herald. But the final word has been uttered: "<i>Conx Ompax</i>." The +rite is consummated, and we are <i>epoptæ</i> forever!</p> + +<p>One day more, and the Eleusinia themselves are completed. As in the +beginning by lustration and sacrifices we conciliated the favor of the +gods, so now by libation we finally commend ourselves to their care. +Thus did the Greeks begin all things with lustration and end with +libation, each day, each feast,—all their solemn treaties, their +ceremonies, and sacred festivals. But, like all else Eleusinian, this +libation must be <i>sui generis</i>, emptied from two bowls,—the one toward +the East, the other toward the West. Thus is finished this Epos, or, as +Clemens Alexandrinus calls it, the "mystical drama" of the Eleusinia.</p> + +<p>Now, reader, you have seen the Mysteries. And what do they mean? Let us +take care lest we deceive ourselves, as many before us have done, by +merely <i>looking</i> at the Eleusinia.</p> + +<p>Oh, this everlasting staring! This it is that leads us astray. That old +stargazer, with whom Aesop has made us acquainted, deserved, indeed, to +fall into the well, no less for his profanity than his stupidity. Yet +this same star-gazing it is that we miscall reflection. Thus, in our +blank wonder at Nature, in our naked analysis of her life, expressed +through long lists of genera and species and mathematical calculations, +as if we were calling off the roll of creation, or as if her depth of +meaning rested in her vast orbs and incalculable velocities,—in all +this we fail of her real mystery.</p> + +<p>To mere external seeming, the Eleusinia point to Demeter for their +interpretation. To <i>her</i> are they consecrated,—of her grief are they +commemorative; out of reverence to her do the <i>mystæ</i> purify themselves +by lustration and by the sacrifice that may not be tasted; she it is who +is symbolized, in the procession of the basket, as our Great Mother, +through the salt, wool, and sesame, which point to her bountiful +gifts,—while by the poppies and pomegranates it is hinted that she +nourishes in her heart some profound sorrow: by the former, that she +seeks to bury this sorrow in eternal oblivion,—by the latter, that it +must be eternally reiterated. The procession of the torches defines the +sorrow; and by this wild, despairing search in the darkness do we know +that her daughter Proserpine, plucking flowers in the fields of light, +has been snatched by ruthless Pluto to the realm of the Invisible. Then +by the procession of Iacchus we learn that divine aid has come to the +despairing Demeter; by the coming of, Aesculapius shall all her wounds +be healed; and the change in the evening from the <i>mystæ</i> to <i>epoptæ</i> is +because that now to Demeter, the cycle of her grief being accomplished, +the ways of Jove are made plain,—even his permission of violence from +unseen hands; to <i>her</i> also is the final libation.</p> + +<p>But the story of the stolen Proserpina is itself an afterthought, a +fable invented to explain the Mysteries; and, however much it may have +modified them in detail, certainly could not have been their ground. Nor +is the sorrowing Demeter herself adequate to the solution. For the +Eleusinia are older than Eleusis,—older than Demeter, even the Demeter +of Thrace,—certainly as old as Isis, who was to Egypt what Demeter was +to Greece,—the Great Mother<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2" /><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> of a thousand names, who also had <i>her</i> +endlessly repeated sorrow for the loss of Osiris, and in honor of whom +the Egyptians held an annual festival. Thus we only remove the mystery +back to the very verge of myth itself; and we must either give up the +solution or take a different course. But perhaps Isis will reveal +herself, and at the same time unveil the Mysteries. Let us read her +tablet: "I am all that, has been, all that is, all that is to be; and +the veil which is over my face no mortal hand hath ever raised!" Now, +reader, would it not be strange, if, in solving <i>her</i> mystery, we should +also solve the Sphinx's riddle? But so it is. This is the Sphinx in her +eldest shape,—this Isis of a thousand names; and the answer to her +ever-recurring riddle is always the same. In the Human Spirit is +infolded whatsoever has been, is, or shall be; and mortality cannot +reveal it!</p> + +<p>Not to Demeter, then, nor even to Isis, do the Eleusinia primarily +point, but to the human heart. We no longer look at them; henceforth +they are within us. Long has this mystic mother, the wonder of the +world, waited for the revelation of her face. Let us draw aside the +veil, (not by mortal hand,—it moves at your will,) and listen:—</p> + +<p>"I am the First and the Last,—mother of gods and men. As deep as is my +mystery, so deep is my sorrow. For, lo! all generations are mine. But +the fairest fruit of my Holy Garden was plucked by my mortal children; +since which, Apollo among men and Artemis among women have raged with +their fearful arrows. My fairest children, whom I have brought forth and +nourished in the light, have been stolen by the children of darkness. By +the Flood they were taken; and I wandered forty days and forty nights +upon the waters, ere again I saw the face of the earth. Then, wherever I +went, I brought joy; at Cyprus the grasses sprang up beneath my feet, +the golden-filleted Horæ crowned me with a wreath of gold and clothed me +in immortal robes. Then, also, was renewed my grief; for Adonis, whom I +had chosen, was slain in the chase and carried to Hades. Six months I +wept his loss, when he rose again and I triumphed. Thus in Egypt I +mourned for Osiris, for Atys in Phrygia, and for Proserpina at +Eleusis,—all of whom passed to the underworld, were restored for a +season, and then retaken. Thus is my sorrow repeated without end. All +things are taken from me. Night treads upon the heels of Day, the +desolation of Winter wastes the fair fruit of Summer, and Death walks in +the ways of Life with inexorable claims. But at the last, through Him, +my First-begotten and my Best-beloved, who also died and descended into +Hades, and the third day rose again,—through Him, having ceased from +wandering, I shall triumph in Infinite Joy!"</p> + +<p><i>That</i>, reader, is not so difficult to translate into human language. +Thus, from the beginning to the end of the world, do these Mysteries, +under various names, shadow forth the great problem of human life, which +problem, as being fundamental, must be religious, the same that is +shadowed forth in Nature and Revelation, namely: man's sin, and his +redemption from sin,—his great loss, his infinite error, and his final +salvation.</p> + +<p>Sorrow, so strong a sense of which pervaded these Mysteries that it was +the name (Achtheia) by which Demeter was known to her mystic +worshippers,—<i>human</i> sorrow it was which veiled the eyelids; toward +which veiling (or <i>muesis</i>) the lotus about the head of Isis and the +poppy in the hand of Demeter distinctly point. Hence the <i>mystæ</i>, whom +the reader must suppose to have closed their eyes to all without +them,—even to Nature, except as in sympathy she mirrors forth the +central sorrow of their hearts. But this same sorrow and its mighty +work, veiled from all mortal vision, shut out by very necessity from any +sympathy save that of God, is a preparation for a purer vision,—a +second initiation, in which the eyes shall be reopened and the <i>mystæ</i> +become <i>epoptæ</i>; and of such significance was this higher vision to the +Greek, that it was a synonyme for the highest earthly happiness and a +foretaste of Elysium.</p> + +<p>As this vision of the <i>epoptæ</i> was the vision of real faith, so the +<i>muesis</i>, or veiling of the <i>mystæ</i>, was no mere affectation of +mysticism. Not so easily could be set aside this weight of sorrow upon +the eyelids, which, notwithstanding that, leading to self, it leads to +wandering, leads also through Divine aid to that peace which passeth +all understanding. Thus were the Hebrews led out of Egyptian bondage +through wanderings in the Wilderness to the Promised Land. Even thus, +through rites and ceremonies which to us are hieroglyphics hard to be +deciphered, which are known only as shrouded in infinite sorrow,—as +dimly shadowing forth some wild search in darkness and some final +resurrection into light,—through these, many from Egypt and India and +Scythia, from Scandinavia and from the aboriginal forests of America, +have for unnumbered ages passed from a world of bewildering error to the +heaven of their hopes. To the eye of sense and to shallow infidelity, +this may seem absurd; but the foolishness of man is the wisdom of God to +the salvation of His erring children. Happy, indeed, are the initiated! +Blessed are the poor in spirit, the Pariah, and the slave,—all they +whose eyes are veiled with overshadowing sorrow! for only thus is +revealed the glory of human life!</p> + +<p>There are many things, kind reader, which, in our senseless staring, we +may call the signs of human weakness, but which, by a higher +interpretation, become revelations of human power. The gross and +pitiable features of the world are dissolved and clarified, when by an +impassioned sympathy we can penetrate to the heart of things. We are +about to pity the ragged vesture, the feeble knees, and the beseeching +hand of poverty, and the cries of the oppressed and the weary; but, at a +thought, Pity is slain by Reverence. We are ready to cry out against the +sluggish movement of the world and its lazy flux of life; but before the +satire is spoken, we are fascinated by an undercurrent of this same +world, earnest and full toward its sure goal,—of which, indeed, we only +dream; but "the dream is from God,"<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3" /><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and surer than sight. There is a +profounder calm than appears to the eye, in the quiet cottages scattered +up and down among the peaceful valleys; the rest of death is more +untroubled than the marble face which it leaves as its visible symbol; +and sleep, "the minor mystery of death," (<i>ὑπνος τα μικρα του θανατου μυστηρια</i> [Greek: hypnos ta mikra tou +thanatou mystêria]<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4" /><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>) has a deeper significance than is revealed in any +external token. So what is sneeringly called the credulity of human +nature is its holy faith, and, in spite of all the hard facts which you +may charge upon it, is the glory of man. It introduces us into that +region where "nothing is unexpected, nothing impossible."<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5" /><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> It was the +glory of our childhood, and by it childhood is made immortal. Myth +herself is ever a child,—a genuine child of the earth, indeed,—but +received among men as the child of Heaven.</p> + +<p>Upon the slightest material basis have been constructed myths and +miracles and fairy-tales without number; and so it must ever be. Thus +man asserts his own inherent strength of imagination and faith over +against the external fact. Whatsoever is facile to Imagination is also +facile to Faith. Easy, therefore, in our thoughts, is the transition +from the Cinder-wench in the ashes to the Cinderella of the palace; easy +the apotheosis of the slave, and the passage from the weary earth to the +fields of Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed.</p> + +<p>This flight of the Imagination, this vision of Faith,—<i>these</i>, reader, +are only for the <i>epoptæ</i>. It matters not, that, by naked analysis, you +can prove that the palaces of our fancy and the temples of our faith are +but the baseless fabric of a dream. It may be that the greater part of +life is made up of dreams, and that wakefulness is merely incidental as +a relief to the picture. It may be, indeed, in the last analysis, that +the <i>ideal</i> is the highest, if not the only <i>real</i>.</p> + +<p>For the sensible, palpable fact can, by the nature of things, exist for +us only in the Present. But, my dear reader, it is just here, in this +Present, that the tenure by which we have hold upon life is the most +frail and shadowy. For, by the strictest analysis, <i>there is no +Present</i>. The formula, <i>It is</i>, even before we can give it utterance, by +some subtile chemistry of logic, is resolved into <i>It was</i> and <i>It +shall be</i>. Thus by our analysis do we retreat into the ideal. In the +deepest reflection, all that we call external is only the material basis +upon which our dreams are built; and the sleep that surrounds life +swallows up life,—all but a dim wreck of matter, floating this way and +that, and forever evanishing from sight. Complete the analysis, and we +lose even the shadow of the external Present, and only the Past and the +Future are left us as our sure inheritance. This is the first +initiation,—the veiling of the eyes to the external. But, as <i>epoptæ</i>, +by the synthesis of this Past and Future in a living nature, we obtain a +higher, an ideal Present, comprehending within itself all that can be +real for us within us or without. This is the second initiation, in +which is unveiled to us the Present as a new birth from our own life.</p> + +<p>Thus the great problem of Idealism is symbolically solved in the +Eleusinia. For us there is nothing real except as we <i>realize</i> it. Let +it be that myriads have walked upon the earth before us,—that each race +and generation has wrought its change and left its monumental record +upon pillar and pyramid and obelisk; set aside the ruin which Time has +wrought both upon the change and the record, levelling the cities and +temples of men, diminishing the shadows of the Pyramids, and rendering +more shadowy the names and memories of heroes,—obliterating even its +own ruin;—set aside this oblivion of Time, still there would be +hieroglyphics,—still to us all that comes from this abyss of Time +behind us, or from the abyss of Space around us, must be but dim and +evanescent imagery and empty reverberation of sound, except as, becoming +a part of our own life, by a new birth, it receives shape and +significance. Nothing can be unveiled to us till it is born of us. Thus +the <i>epoptæ</i> are both creators and interpreters. Strength of knowledge +and strength of purpose, lying at the foundation of our own nature, +become also the measure of our interpretation of all Nature. Therefore +in each successive cycle of human history, as we realize more completely +the great Ideal, our appreciation of the Past increases, and our hope of +the Future. The difference lies not in the <i>data</i> of history, but in +what we make of the <i>data</i>.</p> + +<p>We cannot see too clearly that the great problem of life, in Philosophy, +Art, or Religion, is essentially the same from the beginning. Like +Nature, indeed, it repeats itself under various external phases, in +different ages and under different skies. History whispers from her +antediluvian lips of a race of giants; so does the earth reveal mammoths +and stupendous forests. But the wonder neither of Man nor of Nature was +greater then than now. We say much, too, of Progress. But the progress +does not consist in a change of the fundamental problem of the race; we +have only learned to use our material so that we effect our changes more +readily, and write our record with a finer touch and in clearer outline. +The progress is in the facility and elaboration, and may be measured in +Space and Time; but the Ideal is ever the same and immeasurable. Homer +is hard to read; but when once you have read him you have read all +poetry. Or suppose that Orpheus, instead of striving with his mythic +brother Cheiron, were to engage in a musical contest with Mozart, and +you, reader? were to adjudge the prize. Undoubtedly you would give the +palm to Mozart. Not that Mozart is the better musician; the difficulty +is all in your ear, my friend. If you could only hear the nice +vibrations of the "golden shell," you might reverse your decision.</p> + +<p>So in Religion; the central idea, if you can only discern it, is ever +the same. She no longer, indeed, looks with the bewildered gaze of her +childhood to the mountains and rivers, to the sun, moon, and stars, for +aid. In the fulness of time the veil is rent in twain, and she looks +beyond with a clearer eye to the surer signs that are visible of her +unspeakable glory. But the longing of her heart is ever the same.</p> + +<p>What remains to us of ancient systems of faith is, for the most part, +mere name and shadow. It is even more difficult for us to realize to +ourselves a single ceremony of Grecian worship,—for instance, a dance +in honor of Apollo,—in its subtile meaning, than it would be to +appreciate the "Prometheus" of Æschylus. This ignorance leads oftentimes +to the most shocking profanation; and from mere lack of vision we +ridicule much that should call forth our reverence.</p> + +<p>Thus many Christian writers have sought to throw ridicule upon the +Eleusinia. But we must remember, that, to Greece, throughout her whole +history, they presented a well-defined system of faith,—that, +essentially, they even served the function of a church by their inherent +idea of divine discipline and purification and the hope which they ever +held out of future resurrection and glory. Why, then, you ask, if they +were so pure and full of meaning, why was not such a man as Socrates one +of the Initiated? The reason, reader, was simply this: What the +Eleusinia furnished to Greece, that Socrates furnished to himself. That +man who could stand stock-still a whole day, lost in silent +contemplation, what was the need to him of the Eleusinian veil? The most +self-sufficient man in all Greece, who could find the way directly to +himself and to the mystery and responsibility of his own will without +the medium of external rites, to whom there were the ever-present +intimations of his strange Divinity,—what need to him of the Eleusinian +revealings or their sublime self-intuition (<i>αυτοψια</i> [Greek: autopsia])? He had +his own separate tragedy also. And when with his last words he requested +that a cock be sacrificed to Æsculapius, that, reader, was to indicate +that to him had come the eighth day of the drama, in which the Great +Physician brings deliverance,—and in the evening of which there should +be the final unveiling of the eyes in the presence of the Great +Hierophant!</p> + +<p>Such were the Eleusinia of Greece. But what do they mean to us? We have +already hinted at their connection with the Sphinx's riddle. It is +through this connection that they receive their most general +significance; for this riddle is the riddle of the race, and the problem +which it involves can be adequately realized only in the life of the +race. To Greece, as peculiarly sensitive to all that is tragical, the +Sphinx connected her questions most intimately with human sorrow, either +in the individual or the household.</p> + +<p>"Who is it," thus the riddle ran, "who is it that in the morning creeps +upon all-fours, touching the earth in complete dependence,—and at noon, +grown into the fulness of beauty and strength, walks erect with his face +toward heaven,—but at the going down of the sun, returns again to his +original frailty and dependence?"</p> + +<p>This, answered Oedipus, is Man; and most fearfully did he realize it in +his own life! In the mysteries of the Eleusinia there is the same +prominence of human sorrow,—only here the Sphinx propounds her riddle +in its religious phase; and in the change from the <i>mystæ</i> to the +<i>epoptæ</i>, in the revelation of the central self, was the great problem +symbolically realized.</p> + +<p>Greece had her reckoning; and to her eye the Sphinx long ago seemed to +plunge herself headlong into precipitate destruction. But this strange +lady is ever reappearing with her awful alternative: they who cannot +solve her riddle must die. It is no trifling account, reader, which we +have with this lady. For now her riddle has grown to fearful +proportions, connecting itself with the rise and fall of empires, with +the dim realm of superstition, with vast systems of philosophy and +faith. And the answer is always the same: "That which hath been is that +which shall be; and that which hath been is named already,—and it is +known that it is Man."</p> + +<p>What is it that shall explain the difference between our map of the +world and that of Sesostris or Anaximander? Geological deposits, the +washing away of mountains, and the change of river-courses are certainly +but trifling in such an account. But an Argonautic expedition, a Trojan +siege, a Jewish exodus, Nomadic invasions, and the names of Hanno, +Cæsar, William the Conqueror, and Columbus, suggest an explanation. It +is the flux of human life which must account for the flowing outline of +the earth's geography. As with the terrestrial, so with the celestial. +The heavens change by a subtiler movement than the precession of the +equinoxes. In Job, "Behold the height of the stars, how high they are!" +but to Homer they bathe in the Western seas; while to us, they are again +removed to an incalculable distance,—but at the same time so near, +that, in our hopes, they are the many mansions of our Father's house, +the stepping-stones to our everlasting rest.</p> + +<p>But there is also another map, reader, more shadowy in its outline, of +an invisible region, neither of the heavens nor of the earth,—but +having vague relations to each, with a secret history of its own, of +which now and then strange tales and traditions are softly whispered in +our ear,—where each of us has been, though no two ever tell the same +story of their wanderings. Strange to say, each one calls all other +tales superstitions and old-wives' fables; but observe, he always +trembles when he tells his own. But they are all true; there is not one +old-wife's fable on the list. Necromancers have had private interviews +with visitors who had no right to be seen this side the Styx. The Witch +of Endor and the raising of Samuel were literal facts. Above all others, +the Nemesis and Eumenides were facts not to be withstood. And, +philosophize as we may, ghosts have been seen at dead of night, and not +always under the conduct of Mercury;<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6" /><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> even the Salem witchcraft was +very far from being a humbug. They are all true,—the gibbering ghost, +the riding hag, the enchantment of wizards, and all the miracles of +magic, none of which we have ever seen with the eye, but all of which we +believe at heart. But who is it that weirdly draws aside the dark +curtain? Who is this mystic lady, ever weaving at her loom,—weaving +long ago, and weaving yet,—singing with unutterable sadness, as she +interweaves with her web all the sorrows and shadowy fears that ever +were or that ever shall be? We know, indeed, that she weaves the web of +Fate and the curtain of the Invisible; for we have seen her work. We +know, too, that she alone can show the many-colored web or draw aside +the dark curtain; for we have seen her revelations. But who is <i>she</i>?</p> + +<p>Ay, reader, the Sphinx puts close questions now and then; but there is +only one answer that can satisfy her or avert death. This person,—the +only real mystery which can exist for you,—of all things the most +familiar, and at the same the most unfamiliar,—is yourself! You need +not speak in whispers. It is true, this lady has a golden quiver as well +as a golden distaff; but her arrows are all for those who cannot solve +her riddle.</p> + +<p>Protagoras, then, was right; and, looking back through these twenty-two +centuries, we nod assent to his grand proposition: "Man is the measure +of all things,—of the possible, how it is,—of the impossible, how it +is not." In the individual life are laid the foundations of the +universe, and upon each individual artist depend the symmetry and +meaning of the constructed whole. This Master-Artist it is who holds the +keys of life and death; and whatsoever he shall bind or loose in his +consciousness shall be bound or loosed throughout the universe. Apart +from him, Nature is resolved into an intangible, shapeless vanity of +silence and darkness,—without a name, and, in fact, no Nature at all. +To man, all Nature must be human in some soul. God himself is worshipped +under a human phase; and it is here that Christianity, the flower of all +Faith, furnishes the highest answer and realization of this world-riddle +of the Sphinx,—here that it rests its eternal Truth, even as here it +secures its unfailing appeal to the human heart!</p> + +<p>The process by which any nature is <i>realized</i> is the process by which it +is <i>humanized</i>. Thus are all things given to us for an inheritance. Let +it be, that, apart from us, the universe sinks into insignificance and +nothingness; <i>to</i> us it is a royal possession; and we are all kings, +with a dominion as unlimited as our desire. <i>Ubi Cæsar, ibi Roma</i>! Rome +is the world; and each man, if he will, is Cæsar.</p> + +<p><i>If he will</i>;—ay, there's the rub! In the strength of his will lie +glory and absolute sway. But if he fail, then becomes evident the +frailty of his tenure,—"he is a king of shreds and patches!"</p> + +<p>Here is the crying treachery; and thus it happens that there are slaves +and craven hearts. This is the profound pathos of history, (for the +Sphinx has always more or less of sadness in her face,) which enters so +inevitably into all human triumphs. The monuments of Egypt, the palaces +and tombs of her kings,—revelations of the strength of will,—also by +inevitable suggestions call to our remembrance successive generations of +slaves and their endless toil. Morn after morn, at sunrise, for +thousands of years, did Memnon breathe forth his music, that his name +might be remembered upon the earth; but his music was the swell of a +broken harp, and his name was whispered in mournful silence! Among the +embalmed dead, in urn-burials, in the midst of catacombs, and among the +graves upon our hillsides and in our valleys, there lurks the same sad +mockery. Surely "purple Death and the strong Fates do conquer us!" +Strangely, in vast solitudes, comes over us a sense of desolation, when +even the faintest adumbrations of life seem lost in the inertia of +mortality. In all pomp lurks the pomp of funeral; and we do now and then +pay homage to the grim skeleton king who sways this dusty earth,—yea, +who sways our hearts of dust!</p> + +<p>But it is only when we yield that we are conquered. "The daemon shall +not choose us, <i>but we shall choose our daemon</i>."<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7" /><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> It is only when we +lose hold of our royal inheritance that Time is seen with his scythe and +the heritage becomes a waste.</p> + +<p>This is the failure, the central loss, over which Achtheia mourns. Happy +are the <i>epoptæ</i> who know this, who have looked the Sphinx in the face, +and escaped death! They are the seers, they the heroes!</p> + +<p>But "<i>Conx Ompax</i>!"</p> + +<p>And now, like good Grecians, let us make the double libation to our +lady,—toward the East and toward the West. That is an important point, +reader; for thus is recognized the intimate connection which our lady +has with the movements of Nature, in which her life is +mirrored,—especially with the rising, the ongoing, and the waning of +the day; and you remember that this also was the relief of the Sphinx's +riddle,—this same movement from the rising to the setting sun. But +prominently, as in all worship, are our eyes turned toward the +East,—toward the resurrection. In the tomb of Memnon, at Thebes, are +wrought two series of paintings; in the one, through successive stages, +the sun is represented in his course from the East to the West,—and in +the other is represented, through various stages, his return to the +Orient. It was to this Orient that the old king looked, awaiting his +regeneration.</p> + +<p>Thus, reader, in all nations,—by no mere superstition, but by a +glorious symbolism of Faith,—do the children of the earth lay them down +in their last sleep with their faces to the East.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2" /><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The worship of this Great Mother is not more wonderful for +its antiquity in time than for its prevalence as regards space. To the +Hindu she was the Lady Isani. She was the Ceres of Roman mythology, the +Cybele of Phrygia and Lydia, and the Disa of the North. According to +Tacitus, (<i>Germania</i>, c. 9,) she was worshipped by the ancient Suevi. +She was worshipped by the Muscovite, and representations of her are +found upon the sacred drums of the Laplanders. She swayed the ancient +world, from its southeast corner in India to Scandinavia in the +northwest; and everywhere she is the "Mater Dolorosa." And who is it, +reader, that in the Christian world struggles for life and power under +the name of the Holy Virgin, and through the sad features of the +Madonna?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3" /><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Iliad</i>, I. 63.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4" /><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Euripides.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5" /><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Archilochus.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6" /><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> This function of Mercury, as Psycho-Pompos, or conductor of +departed souls to Hades, is often misunderstood. He was a Pompos not so +much for the safety of the dead (though that was an important +consideration) as for the peace of the living. The Greeks had an +overwhelming fear of the dead, as is evident from the propitiatory rites +to their shades; hence the necessity of putting them under strict +charge,—even against their will. (Horace, I. Ode xxiv. 15.) All +Mercury's qualifications point to this office, by which he defends the +living against the invasions of the dead. Hence his craft and +agility;—for who so fleet and subtle as a ghost?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7" /><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Plato's <i>Republic</i>, at the close.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_MINISTER" id="THE_MINISTER" /><span class='smcap'>The Minister's Wooing.</span></h3> + +<h5>[Continued.]</h5> + +<h4><span class='smcap'>Chapter XXII.</span></h4> + + +<p>Mary returned to the house with her basket of warm, fresh eggs, which +she set down mournfully upon the table. In her heart there was one +conscious want and yearning, and that was to go to the friends of him +she had lost,—to go to his mother. The first impulse of bereavement is +to stretch out the hands towards what was nearest and dearest to the +departed.</p> + +<p>Her dove came fluttering down out of the tree, and settled on her hand, +and began asking in his dumb way to be noticed. Mary stroked his white +feathers, and bent her head down over them till they were wet with +tears. "Oh, birdie, you live, but he is gone!" she said. Then suddenly +putting it gently from her, and going near and throwing her arms around +her mother's neck,—"Mother," she said, "I want to go up to Cousin +Ellen's." (This was the familiar name by which she always called Mrs. +Marvyn.) "Can't you go with me, mother?"</p> + +<p>"My daughter, I have thought of it. I hurried about my baking this +morning, and sent word to Mr. Jenkyns that he needn't come to see about +the chimney, because I expected to go as soon as breakfast should be out +of the way. So, hurry, now, boil some eggs, and get on the cold beef and +potatoes; for I see Solomon and Amaziah coming in with the milk. They'll +want their breakfast immediately."</p> + +<p>The breakfast for the hired men was soon arranged on the table, and Mary +sat down to preside while her mother was going on with her +baking,—introducing various loaves of white and brown bread into the +capacious oven by means of a long iron shovel, and discoursing at +intervals with Solomon, with regard to the different farming operations +which he had in hand for the day.</p> + +<p>Solomon was a tall, large-boned man, brawny and angular; with a face +tanned by the sun, and graven with those considerate lines which New +England so early writes on the faces of her sons. He was reputed an +oracle in matters of agriculture and cattle, and, like oracles +generally, was prudently sparing of his responses. Amaziah was one of +those uncouth over-grown boys of eighteen whose physical bulk appears to +have so suddenly developed that the soul has more matter than she has +learned to recognize, so that the hapless individual is always awkwardly +conscious of too much limb; and in Amaziah's case, this consciousness +grew particularly distressing when Mary was in the room. He liked to +have her there, he said,—"but, somehow, she was so white and pretty, +she made him feel sort o' awful-like."</p> + +<p>Of course, as such poor mortals always do, he must, on this particular +morning, blunder into precisely the wrong subject.</p> + +<p>"S'pose you've heerd the news that Jeduthun Pettibone brought home in +the 'Flying Scud,' 'bout the wreck o' the 'Monsoon'; it's an awful +providence, that 'ar' is,—a'n't it? Why, Jeduthun says she jest crushed +like an egg-shell";—and with that Amaziah illustrated the fact by +crushing an egg in his great brown hand.</p> + +<p>Mary did not answer. She could not grow any paler than she was before; a +dreadful curiosity came over her, but her lips could frame no question. +Amaziah went on:—</p> + +<p>"Ye see, the cap'en he got killed with a spar when the blow fust come +on, and Jim Marvyn he commanded; and Jeduthun says that he seemed to +have the spirit of ten men in him; he worked and he watched, and he was +everywhere at once, and he kep' 'em all up for three days, till finally +they lost their rudder, and went drivin' right onto the rocks. When, +they come in sight, he come up on deck, and says he, 'Well, my boys, +we're headin' right into eternity,' says he, 'and our chances for this +world a'n't worth mentionin', any on us; but we'll all have one try for +our lives. Boys, I've tried to do my duty by you and the ship,—but +God's will be done! All I have to ask now is, that, if any of you git to +shore, you'll find my mother and tell her I died thinkin' of her and +father and my dear friends.' That was the last Jeduthun saw of him; for +in a few minutes more the ship struck, and then it was every man for +himself. Laws! Jeduthun says there couldn't nobody have stood beatin' +agin them rocks, unless they was all leather and inger-rubber like him. +Why, he says the waves would take strong men and jest crush 'em against +the rocks like smashin' a pie-plate!"</p> + +<p>Here Mary's paleness became livid; she made a hasty motion to rise from +the table, and Solomon trod on the foot of the narrator.</p> + +<p>"You seem to forget that friends and relations has feelin's," he said, +as Mary hastily went into her own room.</p> + +<p>Amaziah, suddenly awakened to the fact that he had been trespassing, sat +with mouth half open and a stupefied look of perplexity on his face for +a moment, and then, rising hastily, said, "Well, Sol, I guess I'll go +an' yoke up the steers."</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock all the morning toils were over, the wide kitchen cool +and still, and the one-horse wagon standing at the door, into which +climbed Mary, her mother, and the Doctor; for, though invested with no +spiritual authority, and charged with no ritual or form for hours of +affliction, the religion of New England always expects her minister as a +first visitor in every house of mourning.</p> + +<p>The ride was a sorrowful and silent one. The Doctor, propped upon his +cane, seemed to reflect deeply.</p> + +<p>"Have you been at all conversant with the exercises of our young +friend's mind on the subject of religion?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scudder did not at first reply. The remembrance of James's last +letter flashed over her mind, and she felt the vibration of the frail +child beside her, in whom every nerve was quivering. After a moment, she +said,—"It does not become us to judge the spiritual state of any one. +James's mind was in an unsettled way when he left; but who can say what +wonders may have been effected by divine grace since then?"</p> + +<p>This conversation fell on the soul of Mary like the sound of clods +falling on a coffin to the ear of one buried alive;—she heard it with a +dull, smothering sense of suffocation. <i>That</i> question to be +raised?—and about one, too, for whom she could have given her own soul? +At this moment she felt how idle is the mere hope or promise of personal +salvation made to one who has passed beyond the life of self, and struck +deep the roots of his existence in others. She did not utter a +word;—how could she? A doubt,—the faintest shadow of a doubt,—in such +a case, falls on the soul with the weight of mountain certainty; and in +that short ride she felt what an infinite pain may be locked in one +small, silent breast.</p> + +<p>The wagon drew up to the house of mourning. Cato stood at the gate, and +came forward, officiously, to help them out. "Mass'r and Missis will be +glad to see you," he said. "It's a drefful stroke has come upon 'em."</p> + +<p>Candace appeared at the door. There was a majesty of sorrow in her +bearing, as she received them. She said not a word, but pointed with her +finger towards the inner room; but as Mary lifted up her faded, weary +face to hers, her whole soul seemed to heave towards her like a billow, +and she took her up in her arms and broke forth into sobbing, and, +carrying her in, as if she had been a child, set her down in the inner +room and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marvyn and her husband sat together, holding each other's hands, +the open Bible between them. For a few moments nothing was to be heard +but sobs and unrestrained weeping, and then all kneeled down to pray.</p> + +<p>After they rose up, Mr. Zebedee Marvyn stood for a moment thoughtfully, +and then said,—"If it had pleased the Lord to give me a sure evidence +of my son's salvation, I could have given him up with all my heart; but +now, whatever there may be, I have seen none." He stood in an attitude +of hopeless, heart-smitten dejection, which contrasted painfully with +his usual upright carriage and the firm lines of his face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marvyn started as if a sword had pierced her, passed her arm round +Mary's waist, with a strong, nervous clasp, unlike her usual calm self, +and said,—"Stay with me, daughter, to-day!—stay with me!"</p> + +<p>"Mary can stay as long as you wish, cousin," said Mrs. Scudder; "we have +nothing to call her home."</p> + +<p>"<i>Come</i> with me!" said Mrs. Marvyn to Mary, opening an adjoining door +into her bedroom, and drawing her in with a sort of suppressed +vehemence,—"I want you!—I must have you!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marvyn's state alarms me," said her husband, looking +apprehensively after her when the door was closed; "she has not shed any +tears, nor slept any, since she heard this news. You know that her mind +has been in a peculiar and unhappy state with regard to religious things +for many years. I was in hopes she might feel free to open her exercises +of mind to the Doctor."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will feel more freedom with Mary," said the Doctor. "There +is no healing for such troubles except in unconditional submission to +Infinite Wisdom and Goodness. The Lord reigneth, and will at last bring +infinite good out of evil, whether <i>our</i> small portion of existence be +included or not."</p> + +<p>After a few moments more of conference, Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor +departed, leaving Mary alone in the house of mourning.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h4><span class='smcap'>Chapter XXIII.</span></h4> + +<p>We have said before, what we now repeat, that it is impossible to write +a story of New England life and manners for superficial thought or +shallow feeling. They who would fully understand the springs which moved +the characters with whom we now associate must go down with us to the +very depths.</p> + +<p>Never was there a community where the roots of common life shot down so +deeply, and were so intensely grappled around things sublime and +eternal. The founders of it were a body of confessors and martyrs, who +turned their backs on the whole glory of the visible, to found in the +wilderness a republic of which the God of Heaven and Earth should be the +sovereign power. For the first hundred years grew this community, shut +out by a fathomless ocean from the existing world, and divided by an +antagonism not less deep from all the reigning ideas of nominal +Christendom.</p> + +<p>In a community thus unworldly must have arisen a mode of thought, +energetic, original, and sublime. The leaders of thought and feeling +were the ministry, and we boldly assert that the spectacle of the early +ministry of New England was one to which the world gives no parallel. +Living an intense, earnest, practical life, mostly tilling the earth +with their own hands, they yet carried on the most startling and +original religious investigations with a simplicity that might have been +deemed audacious, were it not so reverential. All old issues relating to +government, religion, ritual, and forms of church organization having +for them passed away, they went straight to the heart of things, and +boldly confronted the problem of universal being. They had come out from +the world as witnesses to the most solemn and sacred of human rights. +They had accustomed themselves boldly to challenge and dispute all sham +pretensions and idolatries of past ages,—to question the right of kings +in the State, and of prelates in the Church; and now they turned the +same bold inquiries towards the Eternal Throne, and threw down their +glove in the lists as authorized defenders of every mystery in the +Eternal Government. The task they proposed to themselves was that of +reconciling the most tremendous facts of sin and evil, present and +eternal, with those conceptions of Infinite Power and Benevolence which +their own strong and generous natures enabled them so vividly to +realize. In the intervals of planting and harvesting, they were busy +with the toils of adjusting the laws of a universe. Solemnly simple, +they made long journeys in their old one-horse chaises, to settle with +each other some nice point of celestial jurisprudence, and to compare +their maps of the Infinite. Their letters to each other form a +literature altogether unique. Hopkins sends to Edwards the younger his +scheme of the universe, in which he starts with the proposition, that +God is infinitely above all obligations of any kind to his creatures. +Edwards replies with the brusque comment,—"This is wrong; God has no +more right to injure a creature than a creature has to injure God"; and +each probably about that time preached a sermon on his own views, which +was discussed by every farmer, in intervals of plough and hoe, by every +woman and girl, at loom, spinning-wheel, or wash-tub. New England was +one vast sea, surging from depths to heights with thought and discussion +on the most insoluble of mysteries. And it is to be added, that no man +or woman accepted any theory or speculation simply <i>as</i> theory or +speculation; all was profoundly real and vital,—a foundation on which +actual life was based with intensest earnestness.</p> + +<p>The views of human existence which resulted from this course of training +were gloomy enough to oppress any heart which did not rise above them by +triumphant faith or sink below them by brutish insensibility; for they +included every moral problem of natural or revealed religion, divested +of all those softening poetries and tender draperies which forms, +ceremonies, and rituals had thrown around them in other parts and ages +of Christendom. The human race, without exception, coming into existence +"under God's wrath and curse," with a nature so fatally disordered, +that, although perfect free agents, men were infallibly certain to do +nothing to Divine acceptance until regenerated by the supernatural aid +of God's Spirit,—this aid being given only to a certain decreed number +of the human race, the rest, with enough free agency to make them +responsible, but without this indispensable assistance exposed to the +malignant assaults of evil spirits versed in every art of temptation, +were sure to fall hopelessly into perdition. The standard of what +constituted a true regeneration, as presented in such treatises as +Edwards on the Affections, and others of the times, made this change to +be something so high, disinterested, and superhuman, so removed from all +natural and common habits and feelings, that the most earnest and +devoted, whose whole life had been a constant travail of endeavor, a +tissue of almost unearthly disinterestedness, often lived and died with +only a glimmering hope of its attainment.</p> + +<p>According to any views then entertained of the evidences of a true +regeneration, the number of the whole human race who could be supposed +as yet to have received this grace was so small, that, as to any +numerical valuation, it must have been expressed as an infinitesimal. +Dr. Hopkins in many places distinctly recognizes the fact, that the +greater part of the human race, up to his time, had been eternally +lost,—and boldly assumes the ground, that this amount of sin and +suffering, being the best and most necessary means of the greatest final +amount of happiness, was not merely permitted, but distinctly chosen, +decreed, and provided for, as essential in the schemes of Infinite +Benevolence. He held that this decree not only <i>permitted</i> each +individual act of sin, but also took measures to make it certain, +though, by an exercise of infinite skill, it accomplished this result +without violating human free agency.</p> + +<p>The preaching of those times was animated by an unflinching consistency +which never shrank from carrying an idea to its remotest logical verge. +The sufferings of the lost were not kept from view, but proclaimed with +a terrible power. Dr. Hopkins boldly asserts, that "all the use which +God will have for them is to suffer; this is all the end they can +answer; therefore all their faculties, and their whole capacities, will +be employed and used for this end.... The body can by omnipotence be +made capable of suffering the greatest imaginable pain, without +producing dissolution, or abating the least degree of life or +sensibility.... One way in which God will show his power in the +punishment of the wicked will be in strengthening and upholding their +bodies and souls in torments which otherwise would be intolerable."</p> + +<p>The sermons preached by President Edwards on this subject are so +terrific in their refined poetry of torture, that very few persons of +quick sensibility could read them through without agony; and it is +related, that, when, in those calm and tender tones which never rose to +passionate enunciation, he read these discourses, the house was often +filled with shrieks and waitings, and that a brother minister once laid +hold of his skirts, exclaiming, in an involuntary agony, "Oh! Mr. +Edwards! Mr. Edwards! is God not a God of mercy?"</p> + +<p>Not that these men were indifferent or insensible to the dread words +they spoke; their whole lives and deportment bore thrilling witness to +their sincerity. Edwards set apart special days of fasting, in view of +the dreadful doom of the lost, in which he was wont to walk the floor, +weeping and wringing his hands. Hopkins fasted every Saturday. David +Brainerd gave up every refinement of civilized life to weep and pray at +the feet of hardened savages, if by any means he might save <i>one</i>. All, +by lives of eminent purity and earnestness, gave awful weight and +sanction to their words.</p> + +<p>If we add to this statement the fact, that it was always proposed to +every inquiring soul, as an evidence of regeneration, that it should +truly and heartily accept all the ways of God thus declared right and +lovely, and from the heart submit to Him as the only just and good, it +will be seen what materials of tremendous internal conflict and +agitation were all the while working in every bosom. Almost all the +histories of religious experience of those times relate paroxysms of +opposition to God and fierce rebellion, expressed in language which +appalls the very soul,—followed, at length, by mysterious elevations of +faith and reactions of confiding love, the result of Divine +interposition, which carried the soul far above the region of the +intellect, into that of direct spiritual intuition.</p> + +<p>President Edwards records that he was once in this state of +enmity,—that the facts of the Divine administration seemed horrible to +him,—and that this opposition was overcome by no course of reasoning, +but by an "<i>inward and sweet sense</i>," which came to him once when +walking alone in the fields, and, looking up into the blue sky, he saw +the blending of the Divine majesty with a calm, sweet, and almost +infinite meekness.</p> + +<p>The piety which grew up under such a system was, of necessity, +energetic,—it was the uprousing of the whole energy of the human soul, +pierced and wrenched and probed from her lowest depths to her topmost +heights with every awful life-force possible to existence. He whose +faith in God came clear through these terrible tests would be sure never +to know greater ones. He might certainly challenge earth or heaven, +things present or things to come, to swerve him from this grand +allegiance.</p> + +<p>But it is to be conceded, that these systems, so admirable in relation +to the energy, earnestness, and acuteness of their authors, when +received as absolute truth, and as a basis of actual life, had, on minds +of a certain class, the effect of a slow poison, producing life-habits +of morbid action very different from any which ever followed the simple +reading of the Bible. They differ from the New Testament as the living +embrace of a friend does from his lifeless body, mapped out under the +knife of the anatomical demonstrator;—every nerve and muscle is there, +but to a sensitive spirit there is the very chill of death in the +analysis.</p> + +<p>All systems that deal with the infinite are, besides, exposed to danger +from small, unsuspected admixtures of human error, which become deadly +when carried to such vast results. The smallest speck of earth's dust, +in the focus of an infinite lens, appears magnified among the heavenly +orbs as a frightful monster.</p> + +<p>Thus it happened, that, while strong spirits walked, palm-crowned, with +victorious hymns, along these sublime paths, feebler and more sensitive +ones lay along the track, bleeding away in life-long despair. Fearful to +them were the shadows that lay over the cradle and the grave. The mother +clasped her babe to her bosom, and looked with shuddering to the awful +coming trial of free agency, with its terrible responsibilities and +risks, and, as she thought of the infinite chances against her beloved, +almost wished it might die in infancy. But when the stroke of death +came, and some young, thoughtless head was laid suddenly low, who can +say what silent anguish of loving hearts sounded the dread depths of +eternity with the awful question, <i>Where</i>?</p> + +<p>In no other time or place of Christendom have so fearful issues been +presented to the mind. Some church interposed its protecting shield; the +Christian born and baptized child was supposed in some wise rescued from +the curse of the fall, and related to the great redemption,—to be a +member of Christ's family, and, if ever so sinful, still infolded in +some vague sphere of hope and protection. Augustine solaced the dread +anxieties of trembling love by prayers offered for the dead, in times +when the Church above and on earth presented itself to the eye of the +mourner as a great assembly with one accord lifting interceding hands +for the parted soul.</p> + +<p>But the clear logic and intense individualism of New England deepened +the problems of the Augustinian faith, while they swept away all those +softening provisions so earnestly clasped to the throbbing heart of that +great poet of theology. No rite, no form, no paternal relation, no faith +or prayer of church, earthly or heavenly, interposed the slightest +shield between the trembling spirit and Eternal Justice. The individual +entered eternity alone, as if he had no interceding relation in the +universe.</p> + +<p>This, then, was the awful dread which was constantly underlying life. +This it was which caused the tolling bell in green hollows and lonely +dells to be a sound which shook the soul and searched the heart with +fearful questions. And this it was that was lying with mountain weight +on the soul of the mother, too keenly agonized to feel that doubt in +such a case was any less a torture than the most dreadful certainty.</p> + +<p>Hers was a nature more reasoning than creative and poetic; and whatever +she believed bound her mind in strictest chains to its logical results. +She delighted in the regions of mathematical knowledge, and walked them +as a native home; but the commerce with abstract certainties fitted her +mind still more to be stiffened and enchained by glacial reasonings, in +regions where spiritual intuitions are as necessary as wings to birds.</p> + +<p>Mary was by nature of the class who never reason abstractly, whose +intellections all begin in the heart, which sends them colored with its +warm life-tint to the brain. Her perceptions of the same subjects were +as different from Mrs. Marvyn's as his who revels only in color from his +who is busy with the dry details of mere outline. The one mind was +arranged like a map, and the other like a picture. In all the system +which had been explained to her, her mind selected points on which it +seized with intense sympathy, which it dwelt upon and expanded till all +else fell away. The sublimity of disinterested benevolence,—the harmony +and order of a system tending in its final results to infinite +happiness,—the goodness of God,—the love of a self-sacrificing +Redeemer,—were all so many glorious pictures, which she revolved in her +mind with small care for their logical relations.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marvyn had never, in all the course of their intimacy, opened her +mouth to Mary on the subject of religion. It was not an uncommon +incident of those times for persons of great elevation and purity of +character to be familiarly known and spoken of as living under a cloud +of religious gloom; and it was simply regarded as one more mysterious +instance of the workings of that infinite decree which denied to them +the special illumination of the Spirit.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Marvyn had drawn Mary with her into her room, she seemed like +a person almost in frenzy. She shut and bolted the door, drew her to the +foot of the bed, and, throwing her arms round her, rested her hot and +throbbing forehead on her shoulder. She pressed her thin hand over her +eyes, and then, suddenly drawing back, looked her in the face as one +resolved to speak something long suppressed. Her soft brown eyes had a +flash of despairing wildness in them, like that of a hunted animal +turning in its death-struggle on its pursuer.</p> + +<p>"Mary," she said, "I can't help it,—don't mind what I say, but I must +speak or die! Mary, I cannot, will not, be resigned!—it is all hard, +unjust, cruel!—to all eternity I will say so! To me there is no +goodness, no justice, no mercy in anything! Life seems to me the most +tremendous doom that can be inflicted on a helpless being! <i>What had we +done</i>, that it should be sent upon us? Why were we made to love so, to +hope so,—our hearts so full of feeling, and all the laws of Nature +marching over us,—never stopping for our agony? Why, we can suffer so +in this life that we had better never have been born!</p> + +<p>"But, Mary, think what a moment life is! think of those awful ages of +eternity! and then think of all God's power and knowledge used on the +lost to make them suffer! think that all but the merest fragment of +mankind have gone into this,—are in it now! The number of the elect is +so small we can scarce count them for anything! Think what noble minds, +what warm, generous hearts, what splendid natures are wrecked and thrown +away by thousands and tens of thousands! How we love each other! how our +hearts weave into each other! how more than glad we should be to die for +each other! And all this ends—O God, how must it end?—Mary! it isn't +<i>my</i> sorrow only! What right have I to mourn? Is <i>my</i> son any better +than any other mother's son? Thousands of thousands, whose mothers loved +them as I love mine, are gone there!—Oh, my wedding-day! Why did they +rejoice? Brides should wear mourning,—the bells should toll for every +wedding; every new family is built over this awful pit of despair, and +only one in a thousand escapes!"</p> + +<p>Pale, aghast, horror-stricken, Mary stood dumb, as one who in the dark +and storm sees by the sudden glare of lightning a chasm yawning under +foot. It was amazement and dimness of anguish;—the dreadful words +struck on the very centre where her soul rested. She felt as if the +point of a wedge were being driven between her life and her life's +life,—between her and her God. She clasped her hands instinctively on +her bosom, as if to hold there some cherished image, and said in a +piercing voice of supplication, "<i>My</i> God! <i>my</i> God! oh, where art +Thou?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marvyn walked up and down the room with a vivid spot of red in each +cheek and a baleful fire in her eyes, talking in rapid soliloquy, +scarcely regarding her listener, absorbed in her own enkindled thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Hopkins says that this is all best,—better than it would have been +in any other possible way,—that God <i>chose</i> it because it was for a +greater final good,—that He not only chose it, but took means to make +it certain,—that He ordains every sin, and does all that is necessary +to make it certain,—that He creates the vessels of wrath and fits them +for destruction, and that He has an infinite knowledge by which He can +do it without violating their free agency.—So much the worse! What a +use of infinite knowledge What if men should do so? What if a father +should take means to make it certain that his poor little child should +be an abandoned wretch, without violating his free agency? So much the +worse, I say!—They say He does this so that He may show to all +eternity, by their example, the evil nature of sin and its consequences! +This is all that the greater part of the human race have been used for +yet; and it is all right, because an overplus of infinite happiness is +yet to be wrought out by it!—It is <i>not</i> right! No possible amount of +good to ever so many can make it right to deprave ever so +few;—happiness and misery cannot be measured so! I never can think it +right,—never!—Yet they say our salvation depends on our loving +God,—loving Him better than ourselves,—loving Him better than our +dearest friends.—It is impossible!—it is contrary to the laws of my +nature! I can never love God! I can never praise Him!—I am lost! lost! +lost! And what is worse, I cannot redeem my friends! Oh, I <i>could</i> +suffer forever,—how willingly!—if I could save <i>him!</i>—But oh, +eternity, eternity! Frightful, unspeakable woe! No end!—no bottom!—no +shore!—no hope!—O God! O God!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marvyn's eyes grew wilder,—she walked the door, wringing her +hands,—and her words, mingled with shrieks and moans, became whirling +and confused, as when in autumn a storm drives the leaves in dizzy +mazes.</p> + +<p>Mary was alarmed,—the ecstasy of despair was just verging on insanity. +She rushed out and called Mr. Marvyn.</p> + +<p>"Oh! come in! do! quick!—I'm afraid her mind is going!" she said.</p> + +<p>"It is what I feared," he said, rising from where he sat reading his +great Bible, with an air of heartbroken dejection. "Since she heard this +news, she has not slept nor shed a tear. The Lord hath covered us with a +cloud in the day of his fierce anger."</p> + +<p>He came into the room, and tried to take his wife into his arms. She +pushed him violently back, her eyes glistening with a fierce light. +"Leave me alone!" she said,—"I am a lost spirit!"</p> + +<p>These words were uttered in a shriek that went through Mary's heart like +an arrow.</p> + +<p>At this moment, Candace, who had been anxiously listening at the door +for an hour past, suddenly burst into the room.</p> + +<p>"Lor' bress ye, Squire Marvyn, we won't hab her goin' on dis yer way," +she said. "Do talk <i>gospel</i> to her, can't ye?—ef you can't, I will."</p> + +<p>"Come, ye poor little lamb," she said, walking straight up to Mrs. +Marvyn, "come to ole Candace!"—and with that she gathered the pale form +to her bosom, and sat down and began rocking her, as if she had been a +babe. "Honey, darlin', ye a'n't right,—dar's a drefful mistake +somewhar," she said. "Why, de Lord a'n't like what ye tink,—He <i>loves</i> +ye, honey! Why, jes' feel how <i>I</i> loves ye,—poor ole black +Candace,—an' I a'n't better'n Him as made me! Who was it wore de crown +o' thorns, lamb?—who was it sweat great drops o' blood?—who was it +said, 'Father, forgive dem'? Say, honey!—wasn't it de Lord dat made +ye?—Dar, dar, now ye'r' cryin'!—cry away, and ease yer poor little +heart! He died for Mass'r Jim,—loved him and <i>died</i> for him,—jes' give +up his sweet, precious body and soul for him on de cross! Laws, jes' +<i>leave</i> him in Jesus' hands! Why, honey, dar's de very print o' de nails +in his hands now!"</p> + +<p>The flood-gates were rent; and healing sobs and tears shook the frail +form, as a faded lily shakes under the soft rains of summer. All in the +room wept together.</p> + +<p>"Now, honey," said Candace, after a pause of some minutes, "I knows our +Doctor's a mighty good man, an' larned,—an' in fair weather I ha'n't +no 'bjection to yer hearin' all about dese yer great an' mighty tings +he's got to say. But, honey, dey won't do for you now; sick folks +mus'n't hab strong meat; an' times like dese, dar jest a'n't but one +ting to come to, an' dat ar's <i>Jesus</i>. Jes' come right down to whar poor +ole black Candace has to stay allers,—it's a good place, darlin'! <i>Look +right at Jesus.</i> Tell ye, honey, ye can't live no other way now. Don't +ye 'member how He looked on His mother, when she stood faintin' an' +tremblin' under de cross, jes' like you? He knows all about mothers' +hearts; He won't break yours. It was jes' 'cause He know'd we'd come +into straits like dis yer, dat he went through all dese tings,—Him, de +Lord o' Glory! Is dis Him you was a-talkin' about?—Him you can't love? +Look at Him, an' see ef you can't. Look an' see what He is!—don't ask +no questions, and don't go to no reasonin's,—jes' look at <i>Him</i>, +hangin' dar, so sweet and patient, on de cross! All dey could do +couldn't stop his lovin' 'em; he prayed for 'em wid all de breath he +had. Dar's a God you can love, a'n't dar? Candace loves Him,—poor, ole, +foolish, black, wicked Candace,—and she knows He loves her,"—and here +Candace broke down into torrents of weeping.</p> + +<p>They laid the mother, faint and weary, on her bed, and beneath the +shadow of that suffering cross came down a healing sleep on those weary +eyelids.</p> + +<p>"Honey," said Candace, mysteriously, after she had drawn Mary out of the +room, "don't ye go for to troublin' yer mind wid dis yer. I'm clar +Mass'r James is one o' de 'lect; and I'm clar dar's consid'able more o' +de 'lect dan people tink. Why, Jesus didn't die for nothin',—all dat +love a'n't gwine to be wasted. De 'lect is more'n you or I knows, honey! +Dar's de <i>Spirit</i>,—He'll give it to 'em; and ef Mass'r James <i>is</i> +called an' took, depend upon it de Lord has got him ready,—course He +has,—so don't ye go to layin' on yer poor heart what no mortal creetur +can live under; 'cause, as we's got to live in dis yer world, it's quite +clar de Lord must ha' fixed it so we <i>can</i>; and ef tings was as some +folks suppose, why, we <i>couldn't</i> live, and dar wouldn't be no sense in +anyting dat goes on."</p> + +<p>The sudden shock of these scenes was followed, in Mrs. Marvyn's case, by +a low, lingering fever. Her room was darkened, and she lay on her bed, a +pale, suffering form, with scarcely the ability to raise her hand. The +shimmering twilight of the sick-room fell on white napkins, spread over +stands, where constantly appeared new vials, big and little, as the +physician, made his daily visit, and prescribed now this drug and now +that, for a wound that had struck through the soul.</p> + +<p>Mary remained many days at the white house, because, to the invalid, no +step, no voice, no hand was like hers. We see her there now, as she sits +in the glimmering by the bed-curtains,—her head a little drooped, as +droops a snowdrop over a grave;—one ray of light from a round hole in +the closed shutters falls on her smooth-parted hair, her small hands are +clasped on her knees, her mouth has lines of sad compression, and in her +eyes are infinite questionings.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h4><span class='smcap'>Chapter XXIV.</span></h4> + +<p>When Mrs. Marvyn began to amend, Mary returned to the home cottage, and +resumed the details of her industrious and quiet life.</p> + +<p>Between her and her two best friends had fallen a curtain of silence. +The subject that filled all her thoughts could not be named between +them. The Doctor often looked at her pale cheeks and drooping form with +a face of honest sorrow, and heaved deep sighs as she passed; but he did +not find any power within himself by which he could approach her. When +he would speak, and she turned her sad, patient eyes so gently on him, +the words went back again to his heart, and there, taking a second +thought, spread upward wing in prayer.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scudder sometimes came to her room after she was gone to bed, and +found her weeping; and when gently she urged her to sleep, she would +wipe her eyes so patiently and turn her head with such obedient +sweetness, that her mother's heart utterly failed her. For hours Mary +sat in her room with James's last letter spread out before her. How +anxiously had she studied every word and phrase in it, weighing them to +see if the hope of eternal life were in them! How she dwelt on those +last promises! Had he kept them? Ah! to die without one word more! Would +no angel tell her?—would not the loving God, who knew all, just whisper +one word? He must have read the little Bible! What had he thought? What +did he feel in that awful hour when he felt himself drifting on to that +fearful eternity? Perhaps he had been regenerated,—perhaps there had +been a sudden change;—who knows?—she had read of such +things;—<i>perhaps</i>—Ah, in that perhaps lies a world of anguish! Love +will not hear of it. Love <i>dies</i> for certainty. Against an uncertainty +who can brace the soul? We put all our forces of faith and prayer +against it, and it goes down just as a buoy sinks in the water, and the +next moment it is up again. The soul fatigues itself with efforts which +come and go in waves; and when with laborious care she has adjusted all +things in the light of hope, back flows the tide, and sweeps all away. +In such struggles life spends itself fast; an inward wound does not +carry one deathward more surely than this worst wound of the soul. God +has made us so mercifully that there is no <i>certainty</i>, however +dreadful, to which life-forces do not in time adjust themselves,—but to +uncertainty there is no possible adjustment. Where is he? Oh, question +of questions!—question which we suppress, but which a power of infinite +force still urges on the soul, who feels a part of herself torn away.</p> + +<p>Mary sat at her window in evening hours, and watched the slanting +sunbeams through the green blades of grass, and thought one year ago he +stood there, with his well-knit, manly form, his bright eye, his buoyant +hope, his victorious mastery of life! And where was he now? Was his +heart as sick, longing for her, as hers for him? Was he looking back to +earth and its joys with pangs of unutterable regret? or had a divine +power interpenetrated his soul, and lighted there the flame of a +celestial love which bore him far above earth? If he were among the +lost, in what age of eternity could she ever be blessed? Could Christ be +happy, if those who were one with Him were sinful and accursed? and +could Christ's own loved ones be happy, when those with whom they have +exchanged being, in whom they live and feel, are as wandering stars, for +whom is reserved the mist of darkness forever? She had been taught that +the agonies of the lost would be forever in sight of the saints, without +abating in the least their eternal joys; nay, that they would find in it +increasing motives to praise and adoration. Could it be so? Would the +last act of the great Bridegroom of the Church be to strike from the +heart of his purified Bride those yearnings of self-devoting love which +His whole example had taught her, and in which she reflected, as in a +glass, His own nature? If not, is there not some provision by which +those roots of deathless love which Christ's betrothed ones strike into +other hearts shall have a divine, redeeming power? Question vital as +life-blood to ten thousand hearts,—fathers, mothers, wives, +husbands,—to all who feel the infinite sacredness of love!</p> + +<p>After the first interview with Mrs. Marvyn, the subject which had so +agitated them was not renewed. She had risen at last from her sick-bed, +as thin and shadowy as a faded moon after sunrise. Candace often shook +her head mournfully, as her eyes followed her about her dally tasks. +Once only, with Mary, she alluded to the conversation which had passed +between them;—it was one day when they were together, spinning, in the +north upper room that looked out upon the sea. It was a glorious day. A +ship was coming in under full sail, with white gleaming wings. Mrs. +Marvyn watched it a few moments,—the gay creature, so full of exultant +life,—and then smothered down an inward groan, and Mary thought she +heard her saying, "Thy will be done!"</p> + +<p>"Mary," she said, gently, "I hope you will forget all I said to you that +dreadful day. It had to be said, or I should have died. Mary, I begin to +think that it is not best to stretch our minds with reasonings where we +are so limited, where we can know so little. I am quite sure there must +be dreadful mistakes somewhere.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me irreverent and shocking that a child should oppose a +father, or a creature its Creator. I never should have done it, only +that, where direct questions are presented to the judgment, one cannot +help judging. If one is required to praise a being as just and good, one +must judge of his actions by some standard of right,—and we have no +standard but such as our Creator has placed in us. I have been told it +was my duty to attend to these subjects, and I have tried to,—and the +result has been that the facts presented seem wholly irreconcilable with +any notions of justice or mercy that I am able to form. If these be the +facts, I can only say that my nature is made entirely opposed to them. +If I followed the standard of right they present, and acted according to +my small mortal powers on the same principles, I should be a very bad +person. Any father, who should make such use of power over his children +as they say the Deity does with regard to us, would be looked upon as a +monster by our very imperfect moral sense. Yet I cannot say that the +facts are not so. When I heard the Doctor's sermons on 'Sin a Necessary +Means of the Greatest Good,' I could not extricate myself from the +reasoning.</p> + +<p>"I have thought, in desperate moments, of giving up the Bible itself. +But what do I gain? Do I not see the same difficulty in Nature? I see +everywhere a Being whose main ends seem to be beneficent, but whose good +purposes are worked out at terrible expense of suffering, and apparently +by the total sacrifice of myriads of sensitive creatures. I see +unflinching order, general good-will, but no sympathy, no mercy. Storms, +earthquakes, volcanoes, sickness, death, go on without regarding us. +Everywhere I see the most hopeless, unrelieved suffering,—and for aught +I see, it may be eternal. Immortality is a dreadful chance, and I would +rather never have been.—The Doctor's dreadful system is, I confess, +much like the laws of Nature,—about what one might reason out from +them.</p> + +<p>"There is but just one thing remaining, and that is, as Candace said, +the cross of Christ. If God so loved us,—if He died for us,—greater +love hath no man than this. It seems to me that love is shown here in +the two highest forms possible to our comprehension. We see a Being who +gives himself for us,—and more than that, harder than that, a Being who +consents to the suffering of a dearer than self. Mary, I feel that I +must love more, to give up one of my children to suffer, than to consent +to suffer myself. There is a world of comfort to me in the words, 'He +that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall +he not with him also freely give us all things?' These words speak to my +heart. I can interpret them by my own nature, and I rest on them. If +there is a fathomless mystery of sin and sorrow, there is a deeper +mystery of God's love. So, Mary, I try Candace's way,—I look at +Christ,—I pray to Him. If he that hath seen Him hath seen the Father, +it is enough. I rest there,—I wait. What I know not now I shall know +hereafter."</p> + +<p>Mary kept all things and pondered them in her heart. She could speak to +no one,—not to her mother, nor to her spiritual guide; for had she not +passed to a region beyond theirs? As well might those on the hither side +of mortality instruct the souls gone beyond the veil as souls outside a +great affliction guide those who are struggling in it. That is a mighty +baptism, and only Christ can go down with us into those waters.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor only marked that she was more than ever +conscientious in every duty, and that she brought to life's daily +realities something of the calmness and disengagedness of one whose soul +has been wrenched by a mighty shock from all moorings here below. Hopes +did not excite, fears did not alarm her; life had no force strong enough +to awaken a thrill within; and the only subjects on which she ever spoke +with any degree of ardor were religious subjects.</p> + +<p>One who should have seen moving about the daily ministrations of the +cottage a pale girl, whose steps were firm, whose eye was calm, whose +hands were ever busy, would scarce imagine that through that silent +heart were passing tides of thought that measured a universe; but it was +even so. Through that one gap of sorrow flowed in the whole awful +mystery of existence, and silently, as she spun and sewed, she thought +over and over again all that she had ever been taught, and compared and +revolved it by the light of a dawning inward revelation.</p> + +<p>Sorrow is the great birth-agony of immortal powers,—sorrow is the great +searcher and revealer of hearts, the great test of truth; for Plato has +wisely said, sorrow will not endure sophisms,—all shams and unrealities +melt in the fire of that awful furnace. Sorrow reveals forces in +ourselves we never dreamed of. The soul, a bound and sleeping prisoner, +hears her knock on her cell-door, and wakens. Oh, how narrow the walls! +oh, how close and dark the grated window! how the long useless wings +beat against the impassable barriers! Where are we? What is this prison? +What is beyond? Oh for more air, more light! When will the door be +opened? The soul seems to itself to widen and deepen; it trembles at its +own dreadful forces; it gathers up in waves that break with wailing only +to flow back into the everlasting void. The calmest and most centred +natures are sometimes thrown by the shock of a great sorrow into a +tumultuous amazement. All things are changed. The earth no longer seems +solid, the skies no longer secure; a deep abyss seems underlying every +joyous scene of life. The soul, struck with this awful inspiration, is a +mournful Cassandra; she sees blood on every threshold, and shudders in +the midst of mirth and festival with the weight of a terrible wisdom.</p> + +<p>Who shall dare be glad any more, that has once seen the frail +foundations on which love and joy are built? Our brighter hours, have +they only been weaving a network of agonizing remembrances for this day +of bereavement? The heart is pierced with every past joy, with every +hope of its ignorant prosperity. Behind every scale in music, the gayest +and cheeriest, the grandest, the most triumphant, lies its dark relative +minor; the notes are the same, but the change of a semitone changes all +to gloom;—all our gayest hours are tunes that have a modulation into +these dreary keys ever possible; at any moment the key-note may be +struck.</p> + +<p>The firmest, best-prepared natures are often beside themselves with +astonishment and dismay, when they are called to this dread initiation. +They thought it a very happy world before,—a glorious universe. Now it +is darkened with the shadow of insoluble mysteries. Why this everlasting +tramp of inevitable laws on quivering life? If the wheels must roll, why +must the crushed be so living and sensitive?</p> + +<p>And yet sorrow is godlike, sorrow is grand and great, sorrow is wise and +farseeing. Our own instinctive valuations, the intense sympathy which we +give to the tragedy which God has inwoven into the laws of Nature, show +us that it is with no slavish dread, no cowardly shrinking, that we +should approach her divine mysteries. What are the natures that cannot +suffer? Who values them? From the fat oyster, over which the silver +tide rises and falls without one pulse upon its fleshy ear, to the hero +who stands with quivering nerve parting with wife and child and home for +country and God, all the way up is an ascending scale, marked by +increasing power to suffer; and when we look to the Head of all being, +up through principalities and powers and princedoms, with dazzling +orders and celestial blazonry, to behold by what emblem the Infinite +Sovereign chooses to reveal himself, we behold, in the midst of the +throne, "a lamb as it had been slain."</p> + +<p>Sorrow is divine. Sorrow is reigning on the throne of the universe, and +the crown of all crowns has been one of thorns. There have been many +books that treat of the mystery of sorrow, but only one that bids us +glory in tribulation, and count it all joy when we fall into divers +afflictions, that so we may be associated with that great fellowship of +suffering of which the Incarnate God is the head, and through which He +is carrying a redemptive conflict to a glorious victory over evil. If we +suffer with Him, we shall also reign with Him.</p> + +<p>Even in the very making up of our physical nature, God puts suggestions +of such a result. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the +morning." There are victorious powers in our nature which are all the +while working for us in our deepest pain. It is said, that, after the +sufferings of the rack, there ensues a period in which the simple repose +from torture produces a beatific trance; it is the reaction of Nature, +asserting the benignant intentions of her Creator. So, after great +mental conflicts and agonies must come a reaction, and the Divine +Spirit, co-working with our spirit, seizes the favorable moment, and, +interpenetrating natural laws with a celestial vitality, carries up the +soul to joys beyond the ordinary possibilities of mortality.</p> + +<p>It is said that gardeners, sometimes, when they would bring a rose to +richer flowering, deprive it, for a season, of light and moisture. +Silent and dark it stands, dropping one fading leaf after another, and +seeming to go down patiently to death. But when every leaf is dropped, +and the plant stands stripped to the uttermost, a new life is even then +working in the buds, from which shall spring a tender foliage and a +brighter wealth of flowers. So, often in celestial gardening, every leaf +of earthly joy must drop, before a new and divine bloom visits the soul.</p> + +<p>Gradually, as months passed away, the floods grew still; the mighty +rushes of the inner tides ceased to dash. There came first a delicious +calmness, and then a celestial inner clearness, in which the soul seemed +to lie quiet as an untroubled ocean, reflecting heaven. Then came the +fulness of mysterious communion given to the pure in heart,—that advent +of the Comforter in the soul, teaching all things and bringing all +things to remembrance; and Mary moved in a world transfigured by a +celestial radiance. Her face, so long mournfully calm, like some +chiselled statue of Patience, now wore a radiance, as when one places a +light behind some alabaster screen sculptured with mysterious and holy +emblems, and words of strange sweetness broke from her, as if one should +hear snatches of music from a door suddenly opened in heaven. Something +wise and strong and sacred gave an involuntary impression of awe in her +looks and words;—it was not the childlike loveliness of early days, +looking with dovelike, ignorant eyes on sin and sorrow; but the +victorious sweetness of that great multitude who have come out of great +tribulation, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood +of the Lamb. In her eyes there was that nameless depth that one sees +with awe in the Sistine Madonna,—eyes that have measured infinite +sorrow and looked through it to an infinite peace.</p> + +<p>"My dear Madam," said the Doctor to Mrs. Scudder, "I cannot but think +that there must be some uncommonly gracious exercises passing in the +mind of your daughter; for I observe, that, though she is not inclined +to conversation, she seems to be much in prayer; and I have, of late, +felt the sense of a Divine Presence with her in a most unusual degree. +Has she opened her mind to you?"</p> + +<p>"Mary was always a silent girl," said Mrs. Scudder, "and not given to +speaking of her own feelings; indeed, until she gave you an account of +her spiritual state, on joining the church, I never knew what her +exercises were. Hers is a most singular case. I never knew the time when +she did not seem to love God more than anything else. It has disturbed +me sometimes,—because I did not know but it might be mere natural +sensibility, instead of gracious affection."</p> + +<p>"Do not disturb yourself, Madam," said the Doctor. "The Spirit worketh +when, where, and how He will; and, undoubtedly, there have been cases +where His operations commence exceedingly early. Mr. Edwards relates a +case of a young person who experienced a marked conversion when three +years of age; and Jeremiah was called from the womb. (Jeremiah, i. 5.) +In all cases we must test the quality of the evidence without relation +to the time of its commencement. I do not generally lay much stress on +our impressions, which are often uncertain and delusive; yet I have had +an impression that the Lord would be pleased to make some singular +manifestations of His grace through this young person. In the economy of +grace there is neither male nor female; and Peter says (Acts, ii. 17) +that the Spirit of the Lord shall be poured out and your sons and your +daughters shall prophesy. Yet if we consider that the Son of God, as to +his human nature, was made of a woman, it leads us to see that in +matters of grace God sets a special value on woman's nature and designs +to put special honor upon it. Accordingly, there have been in the +Church, in all ages, holy women who have received the Spirit and been +called to a ministration in the things of God,—such as Deborah, Huldah, +and Anna, the prophetess. In our own days, most uncommon manifestations +of divine grace have been given to holy women. It was my privilege to be +in the family of President Edwards at a time when Northampton was +specially visited, and his wife seemed and spoke more like a glorified +spirit than a mortal woman,—and multitudes flocked to the house to hear +her wonderful words. She seemed to have such a sense of the Divine love +as was almost beyond the powers of nature to endure. Just to speak the +words, 'Our Father who art in heaven,' would overcome her with such a +manifestation that she would become cold and almost faint; and though +she uttered much, yet she told us that the divinest things she saw could +not be spoken. These things could not be fanaticism, for she was a +person of a singular evenness of nature, and of great skill and +discretion in temporal matters, and of an exceeding humility, sweetness, +and quietness of disposition."</p> + +<p>"I have observed of late," said Mrs. Scudder, "that, in our praying +circles, Mary seemed much carried out of herself, and often as if she +would speak, and with difficulty holding herself back. I have not urged +her, because I thought it best to wait till she should feel full +liberty."</p> + +<p>"Therein you do rightly, Madam," said the Doctor; "but I am persuaded +you will hear from her yet."</p> + +<p>It came at length, the hour of utterance. And one day, in a praying +circle of the women of the church, all were startled by the clear silver +tones of one who sat among them and spoke with the unconscious +simplicity of an angel child, calling God her Father, and speaking of an +ineffable union in Christ, binding all things together in one, and +making all complete in Him. She spoke of a love passing +knowledge,—passing all love of lovers or of mothers,—a love forever +spending, yet never spent,—a love ever pierced and bleeding, yet ever +constant and triumphant, rejoicing with infinite joy to bear in its own +body the sins and sorrows of a universe,—conquering, victorious love, +rejoicing to endure, panting to give, and offering its whole self with +an infinite joyfulness for our salvation. And when, kneeling, she +poured out her soul in prayer, her words seemed so many winged angels, +musical with unearthly harpings of an untold blessedness. They who heard +her had the sensation of rising in the air, of feeling a celestial light +and warmth, descending into their souls; and when, rising, she stood +silent and with downcast drooping eyelids, there were tears in all eyes, +and a hush in all movements as she passed, as if something celestial +were passing out.</p> + +<p>Miss Prissy came rushing homeward, to hold a private congratulatory talk +with the Doctor and Mrs. Scudder, while Mary was tranquilly setting the +tea-table and cutting bread for supper.</p> + +<p>"To see her now, certainly," said Miss Prissy, "moving round so +thoughtful, not forgetting anything, and doing everything so calm, you +wouldn't 'a' thought it could be her that spoke those blessed words and +made that prayer! Well, certainly, that prayer seemed to take us all +right up and put us down in heaven! and when I opened my eyes, and saw +the roses and asparagus-bushes on the manteltree-piece, I had to ask +myself, 'Where have I been?' Oh, Miss Scudder, her afflictions have been +sanctified to her!—and really, when I see her going on so, I feel she +can't be long for us. They say, dying grace is for dying hours; and I'm +sure this seems more like dying grace than anything that I ever yet +saw."</p> + +<p>"She is a precious gift," said the Doctor; "let us thank the Lord for +his grace through her. She has evidently had a manifestation of the +Beloved, and feedeth among the lilies (Canticles, vi. 3); and we will +not question the Lord's further dispensations concerning her."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Miss Prissy, briskly, "it's never best to borrow +trouble; 'sufficient unto the day' is enough, to be sure.—And now, Miss +Scudder, I thought I'd just take a look at that dove-colored silk of +yours to-night, to see what would have to be done with it, because I +must make every minute tell; and you know I lose half a day every week +for the prayer-meeting. Though I ought not to say I lose it, either; for +I was telling Miss General Wilcox I wouldn't give up that meeting for +bags and bags of gold. She wanted me to come and sew for her one +Wednesday, and says I, 'Miss Wilcox, I'm poor and have to live by my +work, but I a'n't so poor but what I have some comforts, and I can't +give up my prayer-meeting for any money,—for you see, if one gets a +little lift there, it makes all the work go lighter,—but then I have to +be particular to save up every scrap and end of time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scudder and Miss Prissy crossed the kitchen and entered the +bedroom, and soon had the dove-colored silk under consideration.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Scudder," said Miss Prissy, after mature investigation, +"here's a broad hem, not cut at all on the edge, as I see, and that +might be turned down, and so cut off the worn spot up by the waist,—and +then, if it is turned, it will look every bit and grain as well as a new +silk;—I'll sit right down now and go to ripping. I put my ripping-knife +into my pocket when I put on this dress to go to prayer-meeting, +because, says I to myself, there'll be something to do at Miss Scudder's +to-night. You just get an iron to the fire, and we'll have it all ripped +and pressed out before dark."</p> + +<p>Miss Prissy seated herself at the open window, as cheery as a fresh +apple-blossom, and began busily plying her knife, looking at the garment +she was ripping with an astute air, as if she were about to circumvent +it into being a new dress by some surprising act of legerdemain. Mrs. +Scudder walked to the looking-glass and began changing her bonnet cap +for a tea-table one.</p> + +<p>Miss Prissy, after a while, commenced in a mysterious tone.</p> + +<p>"Miss Scudder, I know folks like me shouldn't have their eyes open too +wide, but then I can't help noticing some things. Did you see the +Doctor's face when we was talking to him about Mary? Why, he colored all +up and the tears came into his eyes. It's my belief that that blessed +man worships the ground she treads on. I don't mean <i>worships</i>, +either,—'cause that would be wicked, and he's too good a man to make a +graven image of anything,—but it's clear to see that there a'n't +anybody in the world like Mary to him. I always did think so; but I used +to think Mary was such a little poppet—that she'd do better for—Well, +you know, I thought about some younger man;—but, laws, now I see how +she rises up to be ahead of everybody, and is so kind of solemn-like. I +can't but see the leadings of Providence. What a minister's wife she'd +be, Miss Scudder!—why, all the ladies coming out of prayer-meeting were +speaking of it. You see, they want the Doctor to get married;—it seems +more comfortable-like to have ministers married; one feels more free to +open their exercises of mind; and as Miss Deacon Twitchel said to +me,—'If the Lord had made a woman o' purpose, as he did for Adam, he +wouldn't have made her a bit different from Mary Scudder.' Why, the +oldest of us would follow her lead,—'cause she goes before us without +knowing it."</p> + +<p>"I feel that the Lord has greatly blessed me in such a child," said Mrs. +Scudder, "and I feel disposed to wait the leadings of Providence."</p> + +<p>"Just exactly," said Miss Prissy, giving a shake to her silk; "and as +Miss Twitchel said, in this case every providence seems to p'int. I felt +dreadfully for her along six months back; but now I see how she's been +brought out, I begin to see that things are for the best, perhaps, after +all. I can't help feeling that Jim Marvyn is gone to heaven, poor +fellow! His father is a deacon,—and such a good man!—and Jim, though +he did make a great laugh wherever he went, and sometimes laughed where +he hadn't ought to, was a noble-hearted fellow. Now, to be sure, as the +Doctor says, 'amiable instincts a'n't true holiness'; but then they are +better than unamiable ones, like Simeon Brown's. I do think, if that man +is a Christian, he is a dreadful ugly one; he snapped me short up about +my change, when he settled with me last Tuesday; and if I hadn't felt +that it was a sinful rising, I should have told him I'd never put foot +in his house again; I'm glad, for my part, he's gone out of our church. +Now Jim Marvyn was like a prince to poor people; and I remember once his +mother told him to settle with me, and he gave me 'most double, and +wouldn't let me make change. 'Confound it all, Miss Prissy,' says he, 'I +wouldn't stitch as you do from morning to night for double that money.' +Now I know we can't do anything to recommend ourselves to the Lord, but +then I can't help feeling some sorts of folks must be by nature more +pleasing to Him than others. David was a man after God's own heart, and +he was a generous, whole-souled fellow, like Jim Marvyn, though he did +get carried away by his spirits sometimes and do wrong things; and so I +hope the Lord saw fit to make Jim one of the elect. We don't ever know +what God's grace has done for folks. I think a great many are converted +when we know nothing about it, as Miss Twitchel told poor old Miss +Tyrel, who was mourning about her son, a dreadful wild boy, who was +killed falling from mast-head; she says, that from the mast-head to the +deck was time enough for divine grace to do the work."</p> + +<p>"I have always had a trembling hope for poor James," said Mrs. +Scudder,—"not on account of any of his good deeds or amiable traits, +because election is without foresight of any good works,—but I felt he +was a child of the covenant, at least by the father's side, and I hope +the Lord has heard his prayer. These are dark providences; the world is +full of them; and all we can do is to have faith that the Lord will +bring infinite good out of finite evil, and make everything better than +if the evil had not happened. That's what our good Doctor is always +repeating; and we must try to rejoice, in view of the happiness of the +universe, without considering whether we or our friends are to be +included in it or not."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear me!" said Miss Prissy, "I hope, if that is necessary, it +will please the Lord to give it to me; for I don't seem to find any +powers in me to get up to it. But all's for the best, at any rate,—and +that's a comfort."</p> + +<p>Just at this moment Mary's clear voice at the door announced that tea +was on the table.</p> + +<p>"Coming, this very minute," said Miss Prissy, bustling up and pulling +off her spectacles. Then, running across the room, she shut the door +mysteriously, and turned to Mrs. Scudder with the air of an impending +secret. Miss Prissy was subject to sudden impulses of confidence, in +which she was so very cautious that not the thickest oak-plank door +seemed secure enough, and her voice dropped to its lowest key. The most +important and critical words were entirely omitted, or supplied by a +knowing wink and a slight stamp of the foot.</p> + +<p>In this mood she now approached Mrs. Scudder, and, holding up her hand +on the door-side to prevent consequences, if, after all she should be +betrayed into a loud word, she said, "I thought I'd just say, Miss +Scudder, that, in case Mary should —— the Doctor,—in case, you know, +there should be a —— in the house, you <i>must</i> just contrive it so as +to give me a month's notice, so that I could give you a whole fortnight +to fix her up as such a good man's —— ought to be. Now I know how +spiritually-minded our blessed Doctor is; but, bless you, Ma'am, he's +got eyes. I tell you, Miss Scudder, these men, the best of 'em, <i>feel</i> +what's what, though they don't <i>know</i> much. I saw the Doctor look at +Mary that night I dressed her for the wedding-party. I tell you he'd +like to have his wife look pretty well, and he'll get up some blessed +text or other about it, just as he did that night about being brought +unto the king in raiment of needle-work. That is an encouraging thought +to us sewing-women.</p> + +<p>"But this thing was spoken of after the meeting. Miss Twitchel and Miss +Jones were talking about it; and they all say that there would be the +best setting-out got for her that was ever seen in Newport, if it should +happen. Why, there's reason in it. She ought to have at least two real +good India silks that will stand alone,—and you'll see she'll have 'em, +too; you let me alone for that; and I was thinking, as I lay awake last +night, of a new way of making up, that you will say is just the sweetest +that ever you did see. And Miss Jones was saying that she hoped there +wouldn't anything happen without her knowing it, because her husband's +sister in Philadelphia has sent her a new receipt for cake, and she has +tried it and it came out beautifully, and she says she'll send some in."</p> + +<p>All the time that this stream was flowing, Mrs. Scudder stood with the +properly reserved air of a discreet matron, who leaves all such matters +to Providence, and is not supposed unduly to anticipate the future; and, +in reply, she warmly pressed Miss Prissy's hand, and remarked, that no +one could tell what a day might bring forth,—and other general +observations on the uncertainty of mortal prospects, which form a +becoming shield when people do not wish to say more exactly what they +are thinking of.</p> + +<h5>[To be continued.]</h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ONCE_AND_NOW" id="ONCE_AND_NOW" /><span class='smcap'>Once and Now.</span></h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td> + The Mourner lies in the solemn room<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where his Dead hath lately lain;</span><br /> + And in the drear, oppressive gloom,<br /> + Death-pallid with the dying moon,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">There pass before his brain,</span><br /> + In blended visions manifold,<br /> + The present and the days of old.<br /> + <br /> + Fair falls the snow on her grave to-day,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shrouding her sleep sublime;</span><br /> + But he sees in the sunny far-away<br /> + None among maidens so fair and gay<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">As she in her sweet spring-time:</span><br /> + Where the song and the sport and the revel be,<br /> + None among maidens so fair as she.<br /> + <br /> + He marks where the perfect crescent dips<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Above the heaven of her eyes,</span><br /> + Her beamy hair in soft eclipse,<br /> + The red enchantment of her lips,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all the grace that lies</span><br /> + Dreaming in her neck's pure curve,<br /> + With its regal lift and its swanlike swerve.<br /> + <br /> + In pictures which are forever joys,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">She cometh to him once more:</span><br /> + Once, with her dainty foot a-poise,<br /> + She drives the bird with a merry noise<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">From her lifted battledoor,</span><br /> + And tosses back, with impatient air,<br /> + The ruffled glory of her hair;—<br /> + <br /> + Then gayly draping a painted doll,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">To please an eager child;</span><br /> + Or pacing athwart a stately hall;<br /> + Or kneeling at dewy evenfall,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">When clouds are crimson-piled,</span><br /> + And all the hushed and scented air<br /> + Is tremulous with the voice of prayer;—<br /> + <br /> + Or standing mute and rapture-bound<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">The while her sisters sing;</span><br /> + From voice and lute there floats around<br /> + A golden confluence of sound,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Spreading in fairy ring;</span><br /> + And with a beautiful grace and glow<br /> + Her head sways to the music's flow.<br /> + <br /> + One night of nights in lustrous June,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">She walks with him alone;</span><br /> + Through silver glidings of the moon<br /> + The runnels purl a dreamy tune;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">His arm is round her thrown:</span><br /> + But looks and sounds far lovelier<br /> + Thrill on his trancéd soul from her.<br /> + <br /> + And then that rounded bliss, increased<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">To one consummate hour!</span><br /> + The marriage-robe, the stoléd priest,<br /> + The kisses when the rite hath ceased,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">And with her heart's rich dower</span><br /> + She standeth by his shielding side,<br /> + His wedded wife and his own bright bride!<br /> + <br /> + And then the sacred influence<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">That flushed her flower to prime!</span><br /> + Through Love's divine omnipotence<br /> + She ripened to a mother once,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">But once, and for all time:</span><br /> + No higher heaven on him smiled<br /> + Than that young mother and her child.<br /> + <br /> + Then all the pleasant household scenes<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through all the latter years!</span><br /> + No murky shadow intervenes,—<br /> + Her gentle aspect only leans<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through the soft mist of tears;</span><br /> + Her sweet, warm smile, her welkin glance,—<br /> + There is no speech nor utterance.<br /> + <br /> + O angel form, O darling face,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slow fading from the shore!</span><br /> + O brave, true heart, whose warmest place<br /> + Was his alone by Love's sweet grace,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Still, still, forevermore!</span><br /> + And now he lonely lieth, broken-hearted;<br /> + For all the grace and glory have departed.<br /> + <br /> + Snow-cold in sculptured calm she lies,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Apparelled saintly white;</span><br /> + On her sealed lips no sweet replies,<br /> + And the blue splendor of her eyes<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gone down in dreamless night;</span><br /> + All empery of Death expressed<br /> + In that inexorable rest!<br /> + <br /> + Now leave this fair and holy Thing<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Alone with God's dear grace!</span><br /> + Her grave is but the entering<br /> + Beneath the shadow of His wing,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her trusty hiding-place,</span><br /> + Till, in the grand, sweet Dawn, at last,<br /> + This tyranny be overpast.<br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CUBA" id="CUBA" /><span class='smcap'>A Trip to Cuba.</span></h3> + +<h5><span class='smcap'>Can Grande's Departure.—The Dominica.—Lottery-Tickets.</span></h5> + + +<p>I have not told you how Can Grande took leave of the Isle of Rogues, as +one of our party christened the fair Queen of the Antilles. I could not +tell you how he loathed the goings on at Havana, how hateful he found +the Spaniards, and how villainous the American hotel-keepers. His +superlatives of censure were in such constant employment that they began +to have a threadbare sound before he left us; and as he has it in +prospective to run the gantlet of all the inn-keepers on the continent +of Europe, to say nothing of farther lands, where inn-keepers would be a +relief, there is no knowing what exhaustion his powers in this sort may +undergo before he reaches us again. He may break down into weak, +compliant good-nature, and never be able to abuse anybody again, as long +as he lives. In that case, his past life and his future, taken together, +will make a very respectable average. But the climate really did not +suit him, the company did not satisfy him, and there came a moment when +he said, "I can bear it no longer!" and we answered, "Go in peace!"</p> + +<p>It now becomes me to speak of Sobrina, who has long been on a temperance +footing, and who forgets even to blush when the former toddy is +mentioned, though she still shudders at the remembrance of sour-sop. She +is the business-man of the party; and while philosophy and highest +considerations occupy the others, with an occasional squabble over +virtue and the rights of man, she changes lodgings, hires carts, +transports baggage, and, knowing half-a-dozen words of Spanish, makes +herself clearly comprehensible to everybody. We have found a Spanish +steamer for Can Grande; but she rows thither in a boat and secures his +passage and state-room. The noontide sun is hot upon the waters, but her +zeal is hotter still. Now she has made a curious bargain with her +boatmen, by which they are to convey the whole party to the steamer on +the fourth day.</p> + +<p>"What did you tell them?" we asked.</p> + +<p>"I said, <i>tres noches</i> (three nights) and <i>un dia</i>, (one day,) and then +took out my watch and showed them five o'clock on it, and pointed to the +boat and to myself. They understood, perfectly."</p> + +<p>And so, in truth, they did; for, going to the wharf on the day and at +the hour appointed, we found the boatmen in waiting, with eager faces. +But here a new difficulty presented itself;—the runner of our hotel, a +rascal German, whose Cuban life has sharpened his wits and blunted his +conscience, insisted that the hiring of boats for the lodgers was one of +his (many) perquisites, and that before his sovereign prerogative all +other agreements were null and void.—N.B. There was always something +experimentative about this man's wickedness. He felt that he did not +know how far men might be gulled, or the point where they would be +likely to resist. This was a fault of youth. With increasing years and +experience he will become bolder and more skilful, and bids fair, we +should say, to become one of the most dexterous operators known in his +peculiar line. On the present occasion, he did not heed the piteous +pleadings of the disappointed boatmen, nor Sobrina's explanations, nor +Can Grande's arguments. But when the whole five of us fixed upon him our +mild and scornful eyes, something within him gave way. He felt a little +bit of the moral pressure of Boston, and feebly broke down, saying, "You +better do as you like, then," and so the point was carried.</p> + +<p>A pleasant run brought us to the side of the steamer. It was dusk +already as we ascended her steep gangway, and from that to darkness +there is, at this season, but the interval of a breath. Dusk, too, were +our thoughts, at parting from Can Grande, the mighty, the vehement, the +great fighter. How were we to miss his deep music, here and at home! +With his assistance we had made a very respectable band; now we were to +be only a wandering drum and fife,—the fife particularly shrill, and +the drum particularly solemn. Well, we went below, and examined the +little den where Can Grande was to pass the other seven days of his +tropical voyaging. The berths were arranged the wrong way,—across, not +along, the vessel,—and we foresaw that his head would go up and his +feet down, and <i>vice versâ</i>, with every movement of the steamer, and our +weak brains reeled at the bare thought of what he was to suffer. He, +good soul, meanwhile, was thinking of his supper, and wondering if he +could get tea, coffee, and chocolate, a toasted roll, and the touch of +cold ham which an invalid loves. And we beheld, and they were bringing +up the side of the vessel trays of delicious pastry, and festoons of +fowls, with more literal butcher's meat. And we said, "There will be no +famine on board. Make the most of your supper, Can Grande; for it will +be the last of earth to you, for some time to come." And now came +silence, and tears, and last embraces; we slipped down the gangway into +our little craft, and, looking up, saw, bending above us, between the +slouched hat and the silver beard, the eyes that we can never forget, +that seemed to drop back in the darkness with the solemnity of a last +farewell. We went home, and the drum hung himself gloomily on his peg, +and the little fife <i>shut up</i> for the remainder of the evening.</p> + +<p>Has Mr. Dana described the Dominica, I wonder? Well, if he has, I cannot +help it. He never can have eaten so many ices there as I have, nor +passed so many patient hours amid the screeching, chattering, and +devouring, which make it most like a cage of strange birds, or the +monkey department in the Jardin des Plantes.—<i>Mem</i>. I always observed +that the monkeys just mentioned seemed far more mirthful than their +brethren in the London Zoölogical Gardens. They form themselves, so to +speak, on a livelier model, and feel themselves more at home with their +hosts.</p> + +<p>But the Dominica. You know, probably, that it is the great <i>café</i> of +Havana. All the day long it is full of people of all nations, sipping +ices, chocolate, and so on; and all night long, also, up to the to me +very questionable hour when its patrons go home and its <i>garçons</i> go to +bed. We often found it a welcome refuge at noon, when the <i>douche</i> of +sunlight on one's <i>cervix</i> bewilders the faculties, and confuses one's +principles of gravitation, toleration, etc., etc. You enter from the +Tophet of the street, and the intolerable glare is at once softened to a +sort of golden shadow. The floor is of stone; in the midst trickles a +tiny fountain with golden network; all other available space is crowded +with marble tables, square or round; and they, in turn, are scarcely +visible for the swarm of black-coats that gather round them. The smoke +of innumerable cigars gives a Rembrandtic tinge to the depths of the +picture, and the rows and groups of nodding Panama hats are like very +dull flower-beds. In the company, of course, the Spanish-Cuban element +largely predominates; yet here and there the sharper English breaks upon +the ear.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I went to that plantation; but they have only one thousand boxes +of sugar, and we want three thousand for our operation."</p> + +<p>A Yankee, you say. Yes, certainly; and turning, you see the tall, strong +Philadelphian from our hotel, who calls for everything by its right +name, and always says, "<i>Mas! mas!</i>" when the waiter helps him to ice. +Some one near us is speaking a fuller English, with a richer "<i>r</i>" and +deeper intonation. See there! that is our own jolly captain, Brownless +of ours, the King of the "Karnak"; and going up to the British lion, we +shake the noble beast heartily by the paw.</p> + +<p>The people about us are imbibing a variety of cooling liquids. Our turn +comes at last. The <i>garçon</i> who says, "I speke Aingliss," brings us +each a delicious orange <i>granizada</i>, a sort of half-frozen water-ice, +familiar to Italy, but unknown in America. It is ice in the first +enthusiasm of freezing,—condensed, not hardened. Promoting its +liquefaction with the spoon, you enjoy it through the mediation of a +straw. The unskilful make strange noises and gurglings through this +<i>tenuis avena</i>; but to those who have not forgotten the accomplishment +of suction, as acquired at an early period of existence, the <i>modus in +quo</i> is easy and agreeable.</p> + +<p>You will hardly weary of watching the groups that come and go and sit +and talk in this dreamy place. If you are a lady, every black eye +directs its full, tiresome stare at your face, no matter how plain that +face may be. But you have learned before this to consider those eyes as +so many black dots, so many marks of wonder with no sentence attached; +and so you coolly pursue your philosophizing in your corner, strong in +the support of a companion, who, though deeply humanitarian and +peaceful, would not hesitate to punch any number of Spanish heads that +should be necessary for the maintenance of your comfort and his dignity.</p> + +<p>The scene is occasionally varied by the appearance of a beggar-woman, +got up in great decency, and with a wonderful air of pinched and faded +gentility. She wears an old shawl upon her head, but it is as nicely +folded as an aristocratic mantilla; her feet are cased in the linen +slippers worn by the poorer classes, but there are no unsavory rags and +dirt about her. "That good walk of yours, friend," I thought, "does not +look like starvation." Yet, if over there were a moment when one's heart +should soften towards an imposing fellow-creature, it is when one is in +the midst of the orange <i>granizada</i>. The beggar circles slowly and +mournfully round all the marble tables in turn, holding out her hand to +each, as the plate is offered at a church collection. She is not +importunate; but, looking in each one's face, seems to divine whether he +will give or no. A Yankee, sitting with a Spaniard, offers her his +cigar. The Spaniard gravely pushes the cigar away, and gives her a +<i>medio</i>.</p> + +<p>More pertinacious is the seller of lottery-tickets, male or female, who +has more at stake, and must run the risk of your displeasure for the +chance of your custom. Even in your bed you are hardly safe from the +ticket-vender. You stand at your window, and he, waiting in the street, +perceives you, and with nods, winks, and showing of his wares endeavors +to establish a communication with you. Or you stop and wait somewhere in +your <i>volante</i>, and in the twinkling of an eye the wretch is at your +side to bear you company till you drive off again. At the Dominica he is +especially persevering, and stands and waits with as much zeal as if he +knew the saintly line of Milton. Like the beggar, however, he is +discriminative in the choice of his victims, and persecutes the stony +Yankee less than the oily Spaniard, whose inbred superstitions force him +to believe in luck.</p> + +<p>Very strange stories do they tell about the trade in +lottery-tickets,—strange, at least, to us, who consider them the folly +of follies. Here, as in Italy, the lotteries are under the care of the +State, and their administration is as careful and important as that of +any other branch of finance. They are a regular and even reputable mode +of investment. The wealthy commercial houses all own tickets, sometimes +keeping the same number for years, but more frequently changing after +each unsuccessful experiment. A French gentleman in Havana assured me +that his tickets had already cost him seven thousand dollars. "And now," +said he, "I cannot withdraw, for I cannot lose what I have already paid. +The number has not been up once in eight years; its turn must come soon. +If I were to sell my ticket, some one would be sure to draw the great +prize with it the week after." This, perhaps, is not very unlike the +calculations of business risks most in vogue in our great cities. A +single ticket costs an ounce (seventeen dollars); but you are constantly +offered fractions, to an eighth or a sixteenth. There are ticket-brokers +who accommodate the poorer classes with interests to the amount of ten +cents, and so on. Thus, for them, the lottery replaces the savings-bank, +with entire uncertainty of any return, and the demoralizing process of +expectation thrown into the bargain. The negroes invest a good deal of +money in this way, and we heard in Matanzas a curious anecdote on this +head. A number of negroes, putting their means together, had +commissioned a ticket-broker to purchase and hold for them a certain +ticket. After long waiting and paying up, news came to Matanzas that the +ticket had drawn the $100,000 prize. The owners of the negroes were in +despair at this intelligence. "Now my cook will buy himself," says one; +"my <i>calesero</i> will be free," says another; and so on. The poor slaves +ran, of course, in great agitation, to get their money. But, lo! the +office was shut up. The rascal broker had absconded. He had never run +the risk of purchasing the ticket; but had coolly appropriated this and +similar investments to his own use, preferring the bird in the hand to +the whole aviary of possibilities. He was never heard of more; but +should he ever turn up anywhere, I commend him as the fittest subject +for Lynch-law on record.</p> + +<p>Well, as I have told you, all these golden chances wait for you at the +Dominica, and many Americans buy, and look very foolish when they +acknowledge it. The Nassauese all bought largely during their short +stay; and even their little children held up with exultation their +fragments of tickets, all good for something, and bad for something, +too.</p> + +<p>If you visit the Dominica in the evening, you find the same crowd, only +with a sprinkling of women, oftenest of your own country, in audacious +bonnets, and with voices and laughter which bring the black eyes upon +them for a time. If it be Sunday evening, you will see here and there +groups of ladies in full ball-dress, fresh from the Paseo, the <i>volante</i> +waiting for them outside. All is then at its gayest and busiest; but +your favorite waiter, with disappointment in his eyes, will tell you +that there is "<i>no mas</i>" of your favorite <i>granizada</i>, and will persuade +you to take, I know not what nauseous substitute in its place; for all +ices are not good at the Dominica, and some are (excuse the word) nasty. +People sit and sip, prolonging their pleasures with dilatory spoon and +indefatigable tongue. Group follows group; but the Spaniards are what I +should call heavy sitters, and tarry long over their ice or chocolate. +The waiter invariably brings to every table a chafing-dish with a +burning coal, which will light a cigar long after its outer glow has +subsided into ashy white. Some humans retain this kindling +power;—<i>vide</i> Ninon and the ancient Goethe;—it is the heart of fire, +not the flame of beauty, that does it. When one goes home, tired, at ten +or eleven, the company shows no sign of thinning, nor does one imagine +how the ground is ever cleared, so as to allow an interval of sleep +between the last ice at night and the first coffee in the morning. It is +the universal <i>siesta</i> which makes the Cubans so bright and fresh in the +evening. With all this, their habits are sober, and the evening +refreshment always light. No suppers are eaten here; and it is even held +dangerous to take fruit as late as eight o'clock, P.M.</p> + +<p>The Dominica has still another aspect to you, when you go there in the +character of a citizen and head of family to order West India sweetmeats +for home-consumption. You utter the magic word <i>dulces</i>, and are shown +with respect into the establishment across the way, where a neat +steam-engine is in full operation, tended by blacks and whites, stripped +above the waist, and with no superfluous clothing below it. Here they +grind the chocolate, and make the famous preserves, of which a list is +shown you, with prices affixed. As you will probably lose some minutes +in perplexity as to which are best for you to order, let me tell you +that the guava jelly and marmalade are first among them, and there is no +second. You may throw in a little pine-apple, mamey, lime, and +cocoa-plum; but the guava is the thing, and, in case of a long run on +the tea-table, will give the most effectual support. The limes used to +be famous in our youth; but in these days they make them hard and tough. +The marmalade of bitter oranges is one of the most useful of Southern +preserves; but I do not remember it on the list of the Dominica. Having +given your order, let me further advise you to remain, if practicable, +and see it fulfilled; as you will find, otherwise, divers trifling +discrepancies between the bill and the goods as delivered, which, though +of course purely accidental, will all be, somehow, to the Dominica's +advantage, and not to yours. If you are in moderate circumstances, order +eight or ten dollars' worth; if affluent, twenty or thirty dollars' +worth; if rash and extravagant, you may rise even to sixty dollars; but +you will find in such an outlay food for repentance. One word in your +ear: do not buy the syrups, for they are made with very bad sugar, and +have no savor of the fruits they represent.</p> + +<p>And this is all I can tell about the Dominica, which I recommend to all +of you for refreshment and amusement. We have nothing like it in New +York or Boston,—our <i>salons</i> of the same description having in them +much more to eat and much less to see. As I look back upon it, the place +assumes a deeply Moorish aspect. I see the fountain, the golden light, +the dark faces, and intense black eyes, a little softened by the +comforting distance. Oh! to sit there for one hour, and help the +garçon's bad English, and be pestered by the beggar, and tormented by +the ticket-vender, and support the battery of the wondering looks, which +make it sin for you, a woman, to be abroad by day! Is there any +purgatory which does not grow lovely as you remember it? Would not a man +be hanged twice, if he could?</p> + +<h5>[To be continued.]</h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ZELMAS_VOW" id="ZELMAS_VOW" /><span class='smcap'>Zelma's Vow.</span></h3> + +<h5>[Continued from the July Number.]</h5> + +<h4><span class='smcap'>Part Second.</span></h4> + +<h4><span class='smcap'>How it was Kept.</span></h4> + + +<p>It was late when Zelma Burleigh returned to the Grange. As she stole +softly into the hall, she startled an Italian greyhound, which was lying +asleep on a mat near the door. As he sprang up, the little silver bells +on his collar tinkled out his master's secret;—Sir Harry Willerton was +still in the drawing-room with Bessie.</p> + +<p>As Zelma passed up to her chamber, she said to herself bitterly,—"Thus +openly and fearlessly can the rich and well-born woo and be wooed, while +such as we must steal away to happiness as to crime, and plight our vows +under the chill and shadow of night!" But the next moment she felt that +there was about her love a piquant sense of peril and lawlessness, a +wild flavor infinitely more to her taste than would be any prudent, +commendable affection grown in drawing-rooms, nourished by +conventionalism, and propped by social fitness; and remembering the +manly beauty and brilliant parts of her lover, she felt that she would +not exchange him for the proudest noble of the realm.</p> + +<p>After a time Bessie came stealing up from the drawing-room, and lay +down by her cousin's side, softly, for fear of waking her; and all night +long Bessie's secret curled about her smiling mouth, and quivered +through the lids of her shut eyes, and overran her red lips in murmurs +of happy dreams; but Zelma's secret burned like slow fire in her deepest +heart. Bessie dreamed of merry games and quiet rambles and country +<i>fêtes</i> with the gay Sir Harry; but Zelma, when at last she slept, +dreamed of wandering with her adventurous lover from province to +province,—then of playing Juliet to his Romeo before a vast +metropolitan audience.</p> + +<p>Days went on, and Bessie's pure, transparent nature, a lily-bud of +sweetest womanhood, seemed unconsciously revealing itself, leaf by leaf, +to all the world, and blooming out its beautiful innermost life; but +Zelma's secret still smouldered in her shut heart, never by any chance +flaming up to her lips in words. Her month assumed a look of rigid +resolution, almost of desperation; and her eyes shone with a hard, +diamond-like brilliancy, fitful, but never soft or tearful. Her manner +grew more and more moody and constrained, till even her matter-of-fact +uncle and aunt, good easy souls, and her absorbed cousin, became curious +and anxious. The little elfish black pony was in more frequent request +than ever; for his mistress now went out at any hour that suited her +whim, in any weather, chose the loneliest by-ways, and rode furiously. +Often, at evening, she ascended a dark gorge of the western hills and +plunged down on the other side, as though in hot pursuit of the setting +sun; and at length there came a report from the gossiping post-mistress +of a little village over there, that she came for letters, which she +duly received, addressed in a dashing, manly hand. This story, coming to +the ears of Roger Burleigh, quickened his dull suspicions that +"something was wrong with that poor girl"; and just as he was getting +positive and peremptory, and Bessie perplexed and alarmed, Zelma +disappeared!</p> + +<p>For several days there were anxious inquiries and vain searches in every +direction,—storming, weeping, and sleeplessness in the Squire's usually +happy household; and then came a letter, whose Scottish post-mark +revealed much of the mystery. It was from Zelma, telling that she had +left the Grange forever, and become the wife of "Mr. Bury, the strolling +player"; and saying that she had taken this step of her own free will, +knowing it to be a fatal, unpardonable sin against caste, and that it +would set a great gulf between her and her respectable relatives. Yet, +she asked, had not a gulf of <i>feeling</i>, as deep and wide, ever separated +their hearts from the gypsy's daughter? and was it not better and more +honest to break the weak social ties of protection and dependence which +had stretched like wild vines across the chasm to hide it from the +world? She then bade them all an abrupt and final farewell It was a +letter brief, cold, and curt, almost to insolence; but beneath her new +name, which was dashed off with somewhat of a dramatic flourish, there +appeared hurriedly scrawled in pencil a woman's postscript, containing +the real soul of the letter, a passionate burst of feeling, a bitter cry +of long-repressed, sorrowful tenderness. It implored forgiveness for any +pain she might ever have given them, for any disgrace she might ever +bring upon them,—it thanked and blessed them for past kindness, and +humbly prayed for them the choicest gifts and the most loving protection +of Heaven. This postscript was signed "Zelle,"—the orphan's childish +and pet name at the Grange, which she now put off with the peace and +purity of maidenhood and domestic life.</p> + +<p>When it was known how Zelma Burleigh had fled, and with whom, the +neighboring gentry were duly shocked and scandalized. The village +gossips declared that they had always foreseen some such fate for "that +strange girl," and sagely prophesied that the master of Willerton Hall +would abandon all thought of an alliance with a family whose escutcheon +had suffered so severely. But they counted on the baronet, not on the +man,—and so, for once, were mistaken.</p> + +<p>As for honest Roger Burleigh, he was beside himself with amazement and +indignation at the folly and ingratitude of his niece and the +measureless presumption of "that infernal puppy of a play-actor," as he +denominated Zelma's clever husband.</p> + +<p>As he was one day talking over the sad affair with his friend Sir Harry, +who best succeeded in soothing him down, he inveighed against all actors +and actresses in the strongest terms of aversion and contempt, giving +free expression to the violent provincial prejudice of his time against +players of all degrees.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Sir," interrupted the young Baronet, "your niece has not +become an actress,—only the wife of a promising actor."</p> + +<p>"No,—but she will be one yet. She's stage-struck now, more than +anything else; and mark my words,—that villain will have her on the +boards before the year's end, and live by her ranting. Why, you see, Sir +Harry, strolling is in the blood, and must out, I suppose. The girl, as +you may have heard, is half gypsy. My brother, Captain Burleigh, was a +sad scamp, and actually married a Spanish Zincala! He was drunk at the +time, we have the consolation to believe, or he could never have so far +belied his good old English blood, dissipated dog as he was. To be sure, +she saved his life once, and really was a beautiful, devoted creature, +by all accounts; and if Zelma had done no worse than she,—run away with +any poor devil, provided only he were a gentleman,—or if she had gone +off vagabondizing with one of her mother's people, it would not have +been so infamous an affair as it is; she might still have been accounted +an honest woman;—but, my God, Sir Harry, a strolling player!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burleigh was but a dutiful echo of her husband's prejudices, and +gave up her hapless niece as lost beyond redemption; but Bessie, though +she grieved more than either, suffered from no sense of humiliation, and +allowed no virtuous anger, no injurious doubts, to enter her blessed +little heart. Yet she missed her lost companion, her strong friend, and, +still vine-like in her instincts, turned wholly to the new support,—to +one who submitted himself gladly to the sweet inthralment, and felt all +the grander for the luscious weight and tendril-like clasp. And so Love +came to pretty Bessie's heart "with healing in his wings."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Unspeakable was the dismay of Mr. Bury at finding that a very modest +amount of personal property was all that his runaway wife could hope to +receive from her relatives,—that she was utterly portionless, her +father having more than exhausted the patrimony of a younger son. He had +supposed, from Zelma's apparently honorable position in the household of +her uncle, that she was, if not an heiress, at least respectably +dowered. Had he been better informed, it is doubtful whether, +improvident and enamored as he was, he would have ruralized and +practicalized Romeo in the lane of Burleigh Grange. Zelma herself, too +unworldly to suspect that self-interest had anything to do with her +conquest, never alluded to her lack of dowry till it was too late. Then +both manly shame and manly passion (for the actor loved her in his way, +which was by no means her way, or the way of any large, loyal nature) +restrained all unbecoming expression of chagrin and +disappointment,—which yet sunk into his heart, and prepared the not +uncongenial coil for a goodly crop of suspicion, jealousy, alienation, +aversion, and all manner of domestic infelicities.</p> + +<p>We cannot follow Zelma step by step, in her precarious and wandering +life, for the six months succeeding her marriage. It was a life not +altogether distasteful to her. She was not enough of a fine lady to be +dismayed or humiliated by its straits and shifts of poverty, by its +isolation and ostracism; while there was something in its alternations +of want and profusion, in its piquant contrasts of real and mimic life, +in its excitement, action, and change, which had a peculiar charm for +her wild and restless spirit. But from many of the associations of the +stage, from nearly all actors and actresses, and from all green-room +loungers, she instinctively recoiled, and held herself haughtily aloof +from the motley little world behind the scenes,—apparently by no +effort, but as sphered apart by the atmosphere of refinement and +superiority which enveloped her. Yet she almost constantly accompanied +her husband to rehearsal and play, where, for a time, her presence was +grateful both to the pride and a more amiable passion of her mercurial +lord. But the sight of that shy, shadowy figure haunting the wings, of +those keen, critical eyes ever following the business of the stage, at +last grew irksome to him, and he would fain have persuaded her to remain +quietly at their lodgings, whilst he was attending to his professional +duties. But no, she would go with him,—not for pleasure, or even +affection, but, as she always avowed, for artistic purposes. That she +had cherished, ever since her marriage, the plan of adopting her +husband's profession, she had never concealed from him. He usually +laughed, in his gay, supercilious way, when she spoke of this purpose, +or lightly patted her grand head and declared her to be a wilful, +unpractical enthusiast,—too much a child of Nature to attempt an art of +any kind,—born to <i>live</i> and <i>be</i> poetry, not to declaim it,—to +inspire genius, not to embody it,—a Muse, not a Sibyl.</p> + +<p>Once, when she was more than usually earnest in pleading for her +plan,—not merely on the strength of her own deep, prophetic conviction +of her fitness for a dramatic career, but on the ground of an urgent and +bitter necessity for exertion on her part, to ward off actual +destitution and suffering,—he exclaimed, somewhat impatiently,—"Why, +Zelma, it is an impossibility, almost an absurdity, you urge! You could +never make an actress. You are too hopelessly natural, erratic, and +impulsive. You would follow no teaching implicitly, but, when you saw +fit, would trample on conventionalities and venerable stage-traditions. +You would set up the standard of revolt against the ancient canons of +Art, and flout it in the faces of the critics, and—<i>fail</i>,—ay, fail, +in spite of your great, staring eyes, the tragic weight of your brows, +and the fiery swell of your nostril."</p> + +<p>"I should certainly tread my own ways on the boards, as elsewhere," +replied Zelma, quietly,—"move and act from the central force, the +instinct and inspiration of Nature,—letting the passion of my part work +itself out in its own gestures, postures, looks, and tones,—falling +short of, or going beyond, mere stage-traditions. With all due deference +for authorities, this would be my art, as it has been the art of all +truly great actors. I shall certainly not adopt my husband's profession +without his consent,—but I shall never cease importuning him for that +consent."</p> + +<p>Lawrence "laughed a laugh of merry scorn," and left her to her solitary +studies and the patient nursing of her purpose.</p> + +<p>It was finally, for Zelma's sake, through the unsolicited influence of +Sir Harry Willerton, that "Mr. Lawrence Bury, Tragedian," attained to a +high point in a provincial actor's ambition,—a London engagement.</p> + +<p>After a disheartening period of waiting and idleness, during which he +and his wife made actual face-to-face acquaintance with want, and both +came near playing their parts in the high-tragedy of starvation in a +garret, he made his first appearance before the audience of Covent +Garden, in the part of Mercutio. He was young, shapely, handsome, and +clever,—full of flash and dash, and, above all, <i>new</i>. He had chosen +well his part,—Mercutio,—that graceful frolic of fancy, which less +requires sustained intellectual power than the exaltation of animal +spirits,—that brief sunburst of life, that brilliant bubble of +character, which reflects, for a moment, a world of beauty and sparkle, +and dies in a flash of wit, yet leaves on the mind a want, a tender +regret, which follow one through all the storm and woe of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>So it was little wonder, perhaps, that he achieved a decided success, +though incomparably greater artists had failed where he triumphed, and +that, in spite of the doubtful looks and faint praise of the critics, he +became at once a public favorite,—the fashion, the rage. Ladies of the +highest <i>ton</i> condescended to admire and applaud, and hailed as a +benefactor the creator of a new sensation.</p> + +<p>Very soon the young actor's aspiring soul rose above all secondary +parts, dropped Mercutio and Horatio for Romeo and Hamlet, and had not +the sense to see that he was getting utterly out of his element, dashing +with silken sails into the tempest of tragedy, soaring on Icarian wings +over its profoundest deeps and into the height and heat of its intensest +passion.</p> + +<p>Yet with the young, the unthinking, the eager, the curious, it was then +as it is now and ever shall be,—confidence easily passed for genius, +and presumption for power. Tributes of admiration and envy poured in +upon him,—anonymous missives, tender and daring, odorous with the +atmosphere of luxurious boudoirs, and coarse scrawls, scented with +orange-peel and lamp-smoke, and seeming to hiss with the sibilant +whisper of green-room spite; and the young actor, valuing alike the +sentiments, kindly or malign, which ministered to his egoism, +intoxicated with the first foamy draught of fame, grew careless, +freakish, and arrogant, as all suddenly adopted pets of the public are +likely to do.</p> + +<p>At length Mr. Bury played before Royalty, and Royalty was heard to say +to Nobility in attendance,—"What!—Who is he? Where did he come from? +How old is he? Not quite equal to Garrick yet, but clever,—eh, my +Lord?"</p> + +<p>This gracious royal criticism, being duly reported and printed, removed +the last let to aristocratic favor; fast young bloods of the highest +nobility did not acorn to shake off their perfumes and air their profane +vocabulary in the green-room, offering snuff and the incense of flattery +together to the Tamerlane, the Romeo, or the Lord Hamlet of the night.</p> + +<p>Happily, with the actor's fame rose his salary; and as both rose, the +actor and his wife descended from their lofty attic-room—into whose one +window the stars looked with, it seemed to Zelma, a startling +nearness—to respectable lodgings on the second floor.</p> + +<p>It was during this first London season that the manager of Covent +Garden, himself an actor, remarked the rare capabilities of Zelma's +face, voice, and figure for the stage, and in a matter-of-fact business +way spoke of them to her husband. The leading actor looked annoyed, and +sought to change the subject of conversation; but as the wife's dreamy +eyes flashed with sudden splendor, revealing the true dramatic fire, the +manager returned upon him with his artistic convictions and practical +arguments, and at length wrung from him most reluctant consent that +Zelma, after the necessary study, should make a trial of her powers.</p> + +<p>Though well over the first summer-warmth of his romantic passion, +Lawrence Bury had not yet grown so utterly cold toward his beautiful +wife that he could see that trial approach without some slight +sympathetic dread; but his miserable egoism forbade him to wish her +success; in his secret heart he even hoped that an utter, irretrievable +failure would wither at once and forever her pretty artistic +aspirations.</p> + +<p>Zelma chose for her <i>début</i> the part of Zara in "The Mourning +Bride,"—not out of any love for the character, which was too stormy, +vicious, and revengeful to engage her sympathies,—but because it was +rapid, vehement, sharply defined, and, if realized at all, she said, +would put her, by its very fierceness and wickedness, too far out of +herself for failure,—sweep her through the play like a whirlwind, and +give her no time to droop. It had for her heart, moreover, a peculiar +charm of association, as her first play,—as that in which she had first +beheld the hero of her dreams, "the god of her idolatry," before whom +she yet bowed, but as with eyes cast down or veiled, not in reverence, +but from a chill, unavowed fear of beholding the very common clay of +which he was fashioned.</p> + +<p>The awful night of the <i>début</i> arrived, as doomsday will come at last; +and after having been elaborately arrayed for her part by a gossiping +tire-woman, who <i>would</i> chatter incessantly, relating, for the +encouragement of the <i>débutante</i>, tale after tale of stage-fright, +swoons, and failure,—after having been plumed, powdered, and most +reluctantly rouged, the rose of nineteen summers having suddenly paled +on her cheek, Zelma was silently conducted from her dressing-room by her +husband, who, as Osmyn, took his stand with her, the guards, and +attendants at the left wing, awaiting the summons to the presence of +King Manuel. As they were listening to the last tender bleating of +Almeria, the same pretty actress whom Zelma had seen as Zara at Arden, +and the gruff responses of her sire, an eager whisper ran through the +group;—the King and Queen had entered the royal box! This was quite +unexpected, and Zelma was aghast. Involuntarily, she stretched out her +hand and grasped that of her husband;—as she did so, the rattle of the +chains on her wrist betrayed her. The attendants looked round and +smiled;—Lawrence frowned and turned away, with a boy's pettishness. He +had been more than usually moody that day; but Zelma had believed him +troubled for her sake, and even now interpreted his unkindness as +nervous anxiety.</p> + +<p>The next moment, everything, even he, was forgotten; for she stood, she +hardly knew how, upon the stage, receiving and mechanically +acknowledging a great burst of generous British applause.</p> + +<p>It was a greeting less complaisant and patronizing than is usually given +to <i>débutantes.</i> Zelma's youthful charms, heightened by her sumptuous +dress, took her audience by surprise, and, while voice and action +delayed, made for her friends and favor, and bribed judgment with +beauty.</p> + +<p>King Manuel receives his captives with a courteous speech,—only a few +lines; but, during their reading, through what a lifetime of fear, of +pain, of unimaginable horrors passed Zelma! Stage-fright, that waking +nightmare of <i>débutantes</i>, clutched her at once, petrifying, while it +tortured her. The house seemed to surge around her, the stage to rock +under her feet. She fancied she heard low, elfish laughter behind the +scenes, and already the hiss of the critics seemed to sing in her +reeling brain. A thousand eyes pierced her through and through,—seemed +to see how the frightened blood had shrunk away from its mask of rouge +and hidden in her heart,—how that poor childish heart fluttered and +palpitated,—how near the hot tears were to the glazed eyeballs,—how +fast the black, obliterating shadows were creeping over the records of +memory,—how the first instinct of fear, a blind impulse to flight, was +maddening her.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to the royal box, where sat a stout, middle-aged +man, with a dull, good-humored face, a star and ribbon on his breast, +and by his side a woman, ample and motherly, with an ugly tuft of +feathers on her head, and a diamond tiara, which lit up her heavy Dutch +features like a torch. The King, the Queen!</p> + +<p>Just at this moment, his Majesty was in gracious converse with a lady on +his right, a foreign princess, of an ancient, unpronounceable title,—a +thin, colorless head and form, overloaded with immemorial +family-jewels,—a mere frame of a woman, to hang brilliants upon. She +was one shine and shiver of diamonds, from head to foot;—she palpitated +light, like a glow-worm. Her Majesty, meanwhile, was regaling herself +from a jewelled snuff-box, and talking affably over her shoulder to her +favorite mistress of the robes, the fearful Schwellenberg.</p> + +<p>But Zelma, looking through the transfiguring atmosphere of loyalty, +beheld the royal group encompassed by all the ideal splendor and +sacredness of majesty;—over their very commonplace heads towered the +airy crowns of a hundred regal ancestors, piled round on round, and +glimmering away into the clouds.</p> + +<p>Ere she turned her fascinated eyes away from the august sight, her cue +was given. She started, and struggled to speak, but her lips clung +together. There was a dull roar and whirl in her brain, as of a vortex +of waters. In piteous appealing she looked into the face of her husband, +and caught on his lips a strange, faint smile of mingled pity and +exultation. It stung her like a lash! Instantly she was herself, or +rather Zara, a captive, but every inch a queen, and delivered herself +calmly and proudly, though with a little tremble of her past agitation +in her voice,—a thrill of womanly feeling, which felt its way at once +to the hearts of her audience.</p> + +<p>The first act, however, afforded her so little scope for acting, that +she left the stage unassured of her own success. There was doubt before +and behind the curtain. The critics had given no certain sign,—the +general applause might have been merely an involuntary tribute to youth +and beauty. Actors and actresses hung back,—even the friendly manager +was guarded in his congratulations. But in the second act the +<i>débutante</i> put an end to this dubious state of things,—at least, so +far as her audience was concerned. "The Captive Queen" took captive all, +save that stern row of critics,—the indomitable, the incorruptible. +Their awful judgment still hung suspended over her head.</p> + +<p>In a scene with Osmyn Zelma first revealed her tragic power. In her +fitful tenderness, in the passionate reproaches which she stormed upon +him, in her entreaties and imprecations, she was the poet's ideal, and +more. She dashed into the crude and sketchy character bold strokes of +Nature and illuminative gleams of genius, all her own.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bury, as Osmyn, was cold and unsympathetic, avoided the eye of Zara, +and was even more tender than was "set down in the book" to Almeria.</p> + +<p>"How well he acts his part!" said to herself the generous Zelma.</p> + +<p>"How anxiety for his wife dashes his spirit!" said the charitable +audience.</p> + +<p>At the close of this act the manager grasped Zelma's hand, and spoke of +her success as certain. She thanked him with an absent air, and gazed +about her wistfully. Surely her husband should have been the first to +give her joy. But he did not come forward. She shrank away to her +dressing-room, and waited for him vainly till she knew he was on the +stage, where she next met him in the great prison-scene.</p> + +<p>In this scene, some bitterness of feeling—the first sharp pangs of +jealousy—gave, unconsciously to herself, a terrible vitality and +reality to her acting. She filled the stage with the electrical +atmosphere of her genius. Waxen Almeria, who was to have gone out as she +entered, received a shock of it, and stood for a moment transfixed. Even +Osmyn kindled out of his stony coldness, and gazed with awe and +irrepressible admiration at this new revelation of that strange, +profound creature he had called "wife." She, so late a shy woodland +nymph, stealing to his embrace,—now an angered goddess, blazing before +him, calling down upon him the lightnings of Olympus, with all the world +to see him shrink and shrivel into nothingness! And all this power and +passion, overtopping his utmost reach of art, outsoaring his wildest +aspirations, he had wooed, fondled, and protected! At first he was +overwhelmed with amazement; he could hardly have been more so, had a +volcano broken out through his hearth-stone; but soon, under the fierce +storm of Zara's taunts and reproaches, a sullen rage took possession of +him. He could not separate the actress from the wife,—and the wife +seemed in open, disloyal revolt. Every burst of applause from the +audience was an insult to him; and he felt a mad desire to oppose, to +defy them all, to assert a master's right over that frenzied woman, to +grasp her by the arm and drag her from the stage before their eyes!</p> + +<p>This scene closes with a memorable speech:—</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td valign='top'><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'> + Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent<br /> + The base injustice thou hast done my love!<br /> + Ay, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress,<br /> + And all the evils thou so long hast mourned,<br /> + Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,<br /> + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned!"</span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>Zelma gave these lines as no pre-Siddonian actress had ever given +them,—with a certain <i>sublimity</i> of rage, the ire of an immortal,—and +swept off the scene before a wild tumult of applause, led by the +vanquished critics. It followed her, surge on surge, to her +dressing-room, whither she hastily retreated through a crowd of players +and green-room <i>habitués</i>.</p> + +<p>That sudden tempest shook even the royal box. The King, who a short time +before had been observed to nod, not shaking his "ambrosial locks" in +Jove-like approval, but somnolently, started up, exclaiming, "What! +what! what's that?"—and the Queen—took snuff.</p> + +<p>In her dressing-room Zelma waited for her husband. "Surely he will come +now," she said.</p> + +<p>She had already put off the tragedy-queen; she was again the loving +wife, yearning for one proud smile, one tender word, one straining +embrace. The tempest outside the curtain still rolled in upon her, as +she sat alone, drooping and sad, a spent thunder-cloud. The sound +brought her no sense of triumph; she only looked around her drearily, +like a frightened child, and called, "Lawrence!"</p> + +<p>Instead of him came the manager. She must go before the curtain; the +audience would not be denied.</p> + +<p>Lawrence led her out,—holding her hot, trembling fingers in his cold, +nerveless hand, a moody frown on his brow, and his lips writhing with a +forced smile.</p> + +<p>As Zelma bent and smiled in modest acknowledgment of renewed applause, +led by royalty itself,—her aspirations so speedily fulfilled, her +genius so early crowned,—even at that supreme moment, the grief of the +woman would have outweighed the triumph of the artist, and saddened all +those plaudits into knell-like sounds, could she have known that the +miserable fiends of envy and jealousy had grasped her husband's heart +and torn it out of her possession forever.</p> + +<p>In the death-scene, where the full tide of womanly feeling, which has +been driven out of Zara's heart by the volcanic shocks of fierce +passions, comes pouring back with whelming force, Zelma lost none of her +power, but won new laurels, bedewed with tears from "eyes unused to +weep."</p> + +<p>Zara dies by her own hand, clinging to the headless body of King Manuel, +believing it to be Osmyn's. Zelma gave the concluding lines of her part +brokenly, in a tone of almost childlike lamenting, with piteous murmurs +and penitent caresses:—</p> + + +<div class='blockquot'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td valign='top'><span style='font-size: 90%;'>"</span></td> + <td><span style='font-size: 90%;'> + Cold, cold!—my veins are icicles and frost!<br /> + Cover us close, or I shall chill his breast,<br /> + And fright him from my arms!—See! see! he slides<br /> + Still farther from me! Look! he hides his face!<br /> + I cannot feel it!—quite beyond my reach!—Ah,<br /> + now he's gone, and all is dark!"</span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>With that last desolate moan of a proud and stormy spirit, sobbing +itself into the death-quiet, a visible shudder crept through the house. +Even the King threw himself back in his royal chair with an +uncomfortable sort of "ahem!" as though choking with an emotion of +common humanity; and the Queen—forgot to take snuff.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From the night of her triumphant <i>début</i>, the life of the actress ran in +the full sunlight of public favor; but the life of the woman crept away +into the shadow,—not of that quiet and repose so grateful to the true +artist, but of domestic discomfort and jealous estrangement.</p> + +<p>Nobly self-forgetful always, Zelma, in the first hour of success, +feeling, in spite of herself, the pettiness and egoism of her husband's +nature, with a sense of humiliation in which it seemed her very soul +blushed, offered to renounce forever the career on which she had just +entered. Mr. Bury, however, angrily refused to accept the sacrifice, +though she pressed it upon him, at last, as a "peace-offering," on her +knees, and weeping like a penitent. "It is too late," he said, bitterly. +"The deed is done. You are mine no longer,—you belong to the public;—I +wish you joy of your fickle master."</p> + +<p>From that time Zelma went her own ways, calm and self-reliant outwardly, +but inwardly tortured with a host of womanly griefs and regrets, a +helpless sense of wrong and desolation. She flew to her beautiful art +for consolation, flinging herself, with a sort of desperate abandonment, +out of her own life of monotonous misery into the varied sorrows of the +characters she personated. For her the cup of fame was not mantling with +the wine of delight which reddens the lips and "maketh glad the heart." +The costly pearl she had dissolved in it had not sweetened the draught; +but it was intoxicating, and she drank it with feverish avidity.</p> + +<p>But for Lawrence Bury, his powers flagged and failed in the unnatural +rivalship; his acting grew more and more cold and mechanical. He became +more than ever subject to moods and caprices, and rapidly lost favor +with the public, till at last he was regarded only as the husband of the +popular actress,—then, merely tolerated for her sake. He fell, or +rather flung himself, into a life of reckless dissipation and +profligacy, and sunk so low that he scrupled not to accept from his +wife, and squander on base pleasures, money won by the genius for which +he hated her. Many were the nights when Zelma returned from the +playhouse to her cheerless lodgings, exhausted, dispirited, and alone, +to walk her chamber till the morning, wrestling with real terrors and +sorrows, the homely distresses of the heart, hard, absolute, +unrelieved,—to which the tragic agonies she had been representing +seemed but child's play.</p> + +<p>At length, finding himself at the lowest ebb of theatrical favor, and +hating horribly the scene of his humiliating defeat, Mr. Bury resolved +to return to his old strolling life in the provinces. Making at the same +moment the first announcement of his going and his hurried adieux to +Zelma, who heard his last cold words in dumb dismay, with little show of +emotion, but with heavy grief and dread presentiments at her heart, he +departed. He was accompanied by the fair actress with whom he played +first parts at Arden,—but now, green-room gossip said, not in a merely +professional association. This story was brought to Zelma; but her +bitter cup was full without it. With a noble blindness, the fanaticism +of wifely faith, she rejected it utterly. "He is weak, misguided, mad," +she said, "but not so basely false as that. He must run his wild, +wretched course awhile longer,—it seems necessary for him; but he will +return at last,—surely he will,—sorrowful, repentant, 'in his right +mind,' himself and mine once more. He cannot weary out God's patience +and my love."</p> + +<p>After the first shock of her desertion was past, Zelma was conscious of +a sense of relief from a weight of daily recurring care and humiliation, +the torture of an unloving presence, chill and ungenial as arctic +sunlight. Even in the cold blank of his absence there was something +grateful to her bruised heart, like the balm of darkness to suffering +eyes. Her art was now all in all to her,—the strong-winged passion, +which lifted her out of herself and her sorrows. She was studying Juliet +for the first time. She had been playing for more than a year before she +could be prevailed upon to attempt a Shakspearian character, restrained +by a profound modesty from exercising her crude powers upon one of those +grand creations.</p> + +<p>When, at length, she made choice of Juliet, what study was hers!—how +reverent! how loving! how glad!—the perfect service of the spirit! She +shut out the world of London from her sight, from her thoughts, till it +seemed lost in one of its own fogs. The air, the sky, the passion, the +poetry of Italy were above and around her. Again she revelled in that +wondrous garden of love and poesy, with a background of graves, +solemnizing joy. Now her fancy flitted, on swift, unresting wing, from +beauty to beauty,—now settled, bee-like, on some rich, half-hidden +thought, and hung upon it, sucking out its most sweet and secret heart +of meaning. She steeped her soul in the delicious romance, the summer +warmth, the moonlight, the sighs and tears of the play. She went from +the closet to the stage, not brain-weary and pale with thought, but +fresh, tender, and virginal,—not like one who had committed the <i>part</i> +of Juliet, but one whom Juliet possessed in every part. She seemed to +bear about her an atmosphere of poetry and love, the subtile spirit of +that marvellous play. There was no air of study, not the faintest taint +of the midnight oil;—like a gatherer of roses from some garden of +Cashmere, or a peasant-girl from the vintage, she brought only odors +from her toil,—the sweets of the fancy, a flavor of the passion she had +made her own.</p> + +<p>On her first night in this play, Zelma was startled by recognizing among +the audience the once familiar faces of her uncle Roger, her cousin +Bessie, and Sir Harry Willerton. They had all come up to London to draw +up the papers and purchase the <i>trousseau</i> for the wedding, which would +have taken place a year sooner, but for the death of Bessie's mother.</p> + +<p>Squire Burleigh had been entrapped by his daughter and her lover into +coming to the play,—he being in utter ignorance as to whom he was to +see in the part of Juliet. When he recognized his niece in the ball-room +scene, he was shocked, and even angry. He started up, impetuously, to +leave the house; and it was only by the united entreaties of Bessie and +Sir Harry that he was persuaded to stay. As the play went on, however, +his sympathies became enlisted, in spite of his prejudices. Gradually +his heart melted toward the fair offender, and irrepressible tears of +admiration and pity welled up to his kindly blue eyes. He watched the +progress of the drama with an almost breathless interest while she was +before him, but grew listless and indifferent whenever she left the +stage. The passion of Romeo, the philosophy of the Friar, the quaint +garrulousness of the Nurse, the trenchant wit of Mercutio were alike +without charm for him.</p> + +<p>But though thus lost in the fortunes and sorrows of the heroine of the +play, the dramatic illusion was far from complete for him. It was not +Juliet,—it was Zelma, the wild, misguided, lost, but still beloved +child of his poor brother; and in his bewildered brain her sad story was +strangely complicated with that of the hapless girl of Verona. When she +swallowed the sleeping-draught, he shrank and shuddered at the horrible +pictures conjured up by her frenzied fancy; and in the last woful scene, +he forgot himself, the play, the audience, everything but her, the +forlorn gypsy child, the shy and lonely little girl whom long years ago +he had taken on his knee, and smoothed down her tangled black hair, as +he might have smoothed the plumage of an eaglet, struggling and +palpitating under his hand, and glancing up sideways, with fierce and +frightened eyes,—and now, when he saw her about to plunge the cruel +blade into her breast, he leaped to his feet and electrified the house +by calling out, in a tone of agonized entreaty,—"Don't, Zelle! for +God's sake, don't! Leave this, and come home with us,—home to the +Grange!"</p> + +<p>It was a great proof of Mrs. Bury's presence of mind and command over +her emotions, that she was not visibly discomposed by this strange and +touching appeal, or by the laughter and applause it called forth, but +finished her sad part, and was Juliet to the last.</p> + +<p>When, obeying the stormy summons of the audience, the lovers arose from +the dead, and glided ghost-like before the curtain, Zelma, really pale +with the passion and woe of her part, glanced eagerly at the box in +which she had beheld her friends;—it was empty. The worthy Squire, +overcome with confusion at the exposure he had made of his weakness and +simplicity, had hurried from the theatre, willingly accompanied by his +daughter and Sir Harry.</p> + +<p>On the following day, sweet Bessie Burleigh, with the consent, at the +request even, of her father, sought out her famous cousin, bearing terms +of reconciliation and proffers of renewed affection.</p> + +<p>The actress was alone. She had just risen from her late breakfast, and +was in a morning costume,—careless, but not untidy. She looked languid +and jaded; the beautiful light of young love, which the night before had +shone with a soft, lambent flame in every glance, seemed to have burned +itself out in her hollow eyes, or to have been quenched in tears.</p> + +<p>She flung herself on her cousin's breast with a laugh of pure joy and a +child's quick impulse of lovingness; but almost immediately drew herself +back, as with a sudden sense of having leaned across a chasm in the +embrace. But Bessie, guessing her feeling, clung about her very +tenderly, calling her pet names, smoothing her hair and kissing her wan +cheek till she almost kissed back its faded roses. And infinite good she +did poor Zelma.</p> + +<p>Bessie—dear, simple heart!—was no diplomatist; she did not creep +stealthily toward her object, but dashed at it at once.</p> + +<p>"I am come, dearest Zelle, to win you home," she said. "You cannot think +how lonely it is at the Grange, now that dear mamma is gone; and +by-and-by it will be yet more lonely,—at least, for poor papa. He loves +you still, though he was angry with you at first,—and he longs to have +you come back, and to make it all up with you. Oh, I am sure, you must +be weary of this life,—or rather, this mockery of life, this prolonged +fever dream, this playing with passion and pain! It is killing you! Why, +you look worn and anxious and sad as death by daylight, though you do +bloom out strangely bright and beautiful on the stage. So, dear, come +into the country, and rest and renew your life."</p> + +<p>Zelma opened her superb eyes in amazement, and her cheek kindled with a +little flush of displeasure; yet she answered playfully,—"What! would +you resolve 'the new star of the drama' into nebulousness and +nothingness again? Remember my art, sweet Coz; I am a priestess sworn to +its altar."</p> + +<p>"But, surely," replied Bessie, ingenuously, "you will not live on thus +alone, unprotected, a mark for suspicion and calumny; for they say—they +say that your husband has deserted you."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bury is absent, fulfilling a professional engagement. I shall await +his return here," replied Zelma, haughtily.</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed deeply and was silent. So, too, was the actress, for some +moments; then, softened almost to tears, half closing her eyes, and +letting her fancy float away like thistle-down over town and country, +upland, valley, and moor, she said softly,—"Dear Burleigh Grange, how +lovely it must be now! What a verdurous twilight reigns under the old +elms of the avenue!—in what a passion of bloom the roses are unfolding +to the sun, these warm May-days! How the honeysuckles drip with sweet +dews! how thickly the shed hawthorn-blossoms lie on the grass of the +long lane, rolling in little drifts before the wind! And the birds,—do +the same birds come back to nest in their old places about the Grange, I +wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Bessie, smiling; "I think all the birds have come back, +save one, the dearest of them all, who fled away in the night-time. Her +nest is empty still. Oh, Zelle, do you remember our pleasant little +chamber in the turret? I could not stay there when you were gone. It is +the stillest, loneliest place in all the house now. Even your pet hound +refuses to enter it."</p> + +<p>"Now, my Cousin, you are really cruel," said Zelma, the tears at last +forcing their way through her reluctant eyelids. "When I left Burleigh +Grange, I went like Eve from Paradise,—<i>forever</i>."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but Cousin dear, there is no terrible angel with a flaming sword +guarding the gates of the Grange against you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the angel of its peace and ancient honor," said the actress; then +added, pleasantly, "and he is backed by a mighty ogre, <i>Respectability</i>. +No, no, Bessie, I can never go back to my old home, or my old self; it +is quite impossible. But you and my uncle are very good to ask me. +Heaven bless you for that! And, dear, when you are Lady Willerton, a +proud wife, and, if God please, a happy mother, put me away from your +thoughts, if I trouble you. Rest in the safe haven of home, anchored in +content, and do not vex yourself about the poor waif afloat on wild, +unknown seas. It is not worth while."</p> + +<p>So Bessie Burleigh was obliged to abandon her dear, impracticable plan; +and the cousins parted forever, though neither thought or meant it then. +Bessie returned to Arden, married the master of Willerton Hall, and slid +into the easy grooves of a happy, luxurious country-life; while Zelma +rode for a few proud years on the topmost swell of popular favor,—then +suddenly passed away beyond the horizon of London life, and so, as it +were, out of the world.</p> + +<p>One dreary November night, after having revealed new powers and won new +honors by her first personation of Belvedera, Zelma went home to find on +her table a brief, business-like letter from the manager of a theatre at +Walton, a town in the North, stating that Mr. Lawrence Bury had died +suddenly at that place of a violent, inflammatory disease, brought on, +it was to be feared, by some excesses to which he had been addicted. The +theatrical wardrobe of the deceased (of small value) had been retained +in payment for expenses of illness and burial; his private papers were +at the disposal of the widow. Deceased had been buried in the parish +church-yard of Walton. This was all.</p> + +<p>Zelma had abruptly dismissed her maid, that she might read quite +unobserved a letter which she suspected brought news from her husband; +so she was quite alone throughout that fearful night. What fierce, +face-to-face wrestlings with grief and remorse were hers! What sweet, +torturing memories of love, of estrangement, of loss! What visions of +<i>him</i>, torn with the agonies, wild with the terrors of death, calling +her name in vain imploring or with angry imprecations!—of him, so +young, so sinful, dragged struggling toward the abyss of mystery and +night, wrenched, as it were, out of life, with all its passions hot at +his heart!</p> + +<p>Hour after hour she sat at her table, grasping the fatal letter, still +as death, and all but as cold. She yet wore the last dress of Belvedera, +and was half enveloped by the black cloud of her dishevelled hair; but +the simulated frenzy, which so late had drawn shuddering sighs from a +thousand hearts, was succeeded by a silent, stony despair, infinitely +more terrible. A sense of hopeless desolation and abandonment settled +upon her soul; the distances of universes seemed to separate her from +the dead. But to this suddenly succeeded a chill, awful sense of a +presence, wrapped in silence and mystery, melting through all material +barriers, treading on the impalpable air, not "looking ancient kindness +on her pain," but lowering amid the shadows of her chamber, stern, +perturbed, unreconciled. All these lonely horrors, these wild griefs, +unrelieved by human sympathy or companionship, by even the unconscious +comfort which flows in the breathing of a near sleeper, crowded and +pressed upon her brain, and seemed to touch her veins with frost and +fire.</p> + +<p>For long weeks, Zelma lay ill, with a slow, baffling fever. Her mind, +torn from its moorings, went wandering, wandering, over a vast sea of +troubled dreams,—now creeping on through weary stretches of calm, now +plunging into the heart of tempests and tossed upon mountainous surges, +now touching momently at islands of light, now wrecked upon black, +desert shores.</p> + +<p>All was strange, vague, and terrible, at first; but gradually there +stole back upon her her own life of womanhood and Art,—its scenes and +changes, its struggles, temptations, and triumphs, its brief joy and +long sorrow, all shaken and confused together, but still familiar. Now +the faces of her audiences seemed to throng upon her, packing her room +from floor to ceiling, darkening the light, sucking up all the air, and +again piercing her through and through with their cold, merciless gaze. +Now the characters she had personated grouped themselves around her bed, +all distinct, yet duplicates and multiplications of herself, mocking her +with her own voice, and glaring at her with her own eyes. Now pleasant +summer-scenes at Burleigh Grange brightened the dull walls, and a memory +of the long lane in the white prime of its hawthorn bloom flowed like a +river of fragrance through her chamber. Then there strode in upon her a +form of beauty and terror, and held her by the passion and gloom of his +eye,—and with him crept in a chill and heavy air, like an exhalation +from the rank turf of neglected graves.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Zelma recovered from this illness, if it could be called a recovery, to +a state of only tolerable physical health, and a condition of pitiable +mental apathy and languor. She turned with a half-weary, half-petulant +distaste from her former pursuits and pleasures, and abandoned her +profession with a sort of terror,—feeling that its mockery of sorrows, +such as had fallen so crushingly on her unchastened heart, would madden +her utterly. But neither could she endure again the constraint and +conventionalities of English private life; she had died to her art, and +she glided, like a phantom, out of her country, and out of the thoughts +of the public, in whose breath she had lived, for whose pleasure she had +toiled, often from the hidden force of her own sorrows, the elements of +all tragedy seething in her secret heart.</p> + +<p>Year after year she lived a wandering, out-of-the-way life on the +Continent. It was said that she went to Spain, sought out her mother's +wild kindred, and dwelt with them, making their life her life, their +ways her ways, shrinking neither from sun-glare nor tempest, privation +nor peril. But, at length, tired of wandering and satiated with +adventure, she flung off the Zincala, returned to England, and even +returned, forsworn, to her art, as all do, or long to do, who have once +embraced it from a genuine passion.</p> + +<p>She made no effort to obtain an engagement at Covent Garden; for her, +that stage was haunted by a presence more gloomy than Hamlet, more +dreadful than the Ghost. Nor did she seek to tread, with her free, +unpractised step, the classic boards of Drury Lane,—where Garrick, the +<i>Grand Monarque</i> of the Drama, though now toward the end of his reign, +ruled with jealous, despotic sway,—but modestly and quietly appeared at +a minor theatre, seeming, to such play-goers as remembered her brief, +brilliant career and sudden disappearance, like the Muse of Tragedy +returned from the shades.</p> + +<p>She was kindly received, both for her own sake, and because of the +pleasant memories which the sight of her, pale, slender, and sad-eyed, +yet beautiful still, revived. Those who had once sworn by her swore by +her still, and were loath to admit even to themselves that her early +style of acting—easy, flowing, impulsive, the natural translation in +action of a strong and imaginative nature—must remain what, in the long +absence of the actress, it had become, a beautiful tradition of the +stage,—that her present personations were wanting in force and +spontaneity,—that they were efforts, rather than inspirations,—were +marked by a weary tension of thought,—were careful, but not composed, +roughened by unsteady strokes of genius, freshly furrowed with labor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bury made a grave mistake in choosing for her second <i>début</i> her +great part of Juliet; for she had outlived the possibility of playing it +as she played it at that period of her life when her soul readily melted +in the divine glow of youthful passion and flowed into the character, +taking its perfect shape, rounded and smooth and fair. Through long +years of sorrow and unrest, she had now to toil back to that golden +time,—and there was a sort of sharpness and haggardness about her +acting, a singular tone of weariness, broken by starts and bursts of +almost preternatural power. Except in scenes and sentiments of pathos, +where she had lost nothing, the last, fine, evanishing tints, the +delicate aroma of the character, were wanting in her personation. It was +touched with autumnal shadows,—it was comparatively hard and dry, not +from any inartistic misapprehension of the poet's ideal, but because the +fountain of youth in Zelma's own soul ran low, and was choked by the +dead violets which once sweetened its waters.</p> + +<p>She felt all this bitterly that night, ere the play was over; and though +her audience generously applauded and old friends congratulated her, she +never played Juliet again.</p> + +<p>Yet, even in the darker and sterner parts, in which she was once so +famous, she was hardly more successful now. In losing her bloom and +youthful fulness of form, she had not gained that statuesque repose, or +that refined essence of physical power and energy, which sometimes +belongs to slenderness and pallor. She was often strangely agitated and +unnerved when the occasion called most for calm, sustained power,—at +times, glancing around wildly and piteously, like a haunted creature. +Her passion was fitful and strained,—the fire of rage flickered in her +eye, her relaxed lips quivered out curses, her hand shook with the +dagger and spilled the poison. Her sorrows, real and imaginary, seemed +to have broken her spirit with her heart.</p> + +<p>But in anything weird and supernatural, awful with vague, unearthly +terrors, she was greater than ever. Whenever, in her part of Lady +Macbeth, she came to the sleep-walking scene, that shadowy neutral +ground between death and life, where the perturbed, burdened spirit +moans out its secret agony, she gave startling token of the genius which +had electrified and awed her audiences of old. A solemn stillness +pervaded the house; every eye followed the ghost-like gliding of her +form, every ear hung upon the voice whose tones could sound the most +mysterious and awful depths of human grief and despair.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was during the first season of her reappearance that Mrs. Bury went +to Drury Lane, on an off-night, to witness one of the latest efforts of +Garrick as Richard the Third. He was, as usual, terribly great in the +part; but, in spite of his overwhelming power, Zelma found herself +watching the Lady Anne of the night with a strange, fascinated interest. +This part, of too secondary and negative a character for the display of +high dramatic powers, even in an actress who should be perfect mistress +of herself, was borne by a young and beautiful woman, new to the London +stage, though of some provincial reputation, who on this occasion was +distressingly nervous and ill-assured. She had to contend not only with +stage-fright, but Garrick-fright. "She met Roscius in all his terrors," +and shrank from the encounter. The fierce lightnings of his dreadful +eyes seemed to shrivel and paralyze her; even his demoniac cunning and +persuasiveness filled her with mortal fear. Her voice shook with a +pathetic tremor, became hoarse and almost inaudible; her eyes sank, or +wandered wildly; her brow was bathed with the sweat of a secret agony; +she might have given way utterly under the paralyzing spell, had not +some sudden inspiration of genius or love, a prophetic thrill of power, +or a memory of her unwearied babe, come to nerve, to upbear her. She +roused, and went through her part with some flickering flashes of +spirit, and through all her painful embarrassment was stately and +graceful by the regal necessity of her beauty. The event was not +success,—was but a shade better than utter failure; and when, soon +after, that beautiful woman dropped out of London dramatic life, few +were they who missed her enough to ask whither she had gone.</p> + +<p>But Zelma, whose sad, searching eyes saw deeper than the eyes of +critics, recognized from the first her grand, long-sought ideal in the +fair unknown, whose name had appeared on the play-bills in small, +deprecating type, under the overwhelming capitals of "MR. +GARRICK"—"<i>Mrs. Siddons</i>." She looked upon that frightened and fragile +woman with prophetic reverence and noble admiration: and as she walked +her lonely chamber that night, she said to herself, somewhat sadly, but +not bitterly,—"The true light of the English drama has arisen at last. +'Out, out, brief candle!'"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Season after season, year after year, Zelma continued to play in London, +but never again with the fame, the homage, the flatteries and triumphs +of a great actress. All these she saw at last accorded to her noble +rival. Mrs. Bury had shone very acceptably in a doubtful dramatic +period,—first as an inspired, impassioned enthusiast, and after as a +conscientious artist, subdued and saddened, yet always careful and +earnest; but, like many another lesser light, she was destined to be +lost sight of in the long, splendid day of the Kembles.</p> + +<p>Yet once again the spirit of unrest, the nomadic instinct, came back +upon Zelma Bury,—haunted her heart and stirred in her blood till she +could resist no longer, but, joining a company for a provincial tour, +left London.</p> + +<p>The health of the actress had been long declining, under the almost +unsuspected attacks of a slow, insidious disease. She was more weak and +ill than she would confess, even to herself; she wanted change, she +said, only change. She never dreamed of rest. Week after week she +travelled,—never tarrying long enough In one place to weary of it,—the +peaceful sights and sounds of rural life tranquillizing and refreshing +her soul, as the clear expanse of its sky, the green of its woods and +parks, the daisied swell of its downs refreshed and soothed her eye, +tired of striking forever against dull brick walls and struggling with +smoke and fog.</p> + +<p>Then May came round,—the haunted month of all the year for her. The +hawthorn-hedges burst into flower,—the high-ways and by-paths and lanes +became Milky Ways of bloom, and all England was once more veined with +fragrance.</p> + +<p>They were in the North, when one morning Zelma was startled by hearing +the manager say that the next night they should play at Walton. It was +there that Lawrence Bury died; it was there he slept, in the stranger's +unvisited grave. She would seek out that grave and sink on it, as on the +breast of one beloved, though long estranged. It would cool the dull, +ceaseless fever of her heart to press it against the cold mound, and to +whisper into the rank grass her faithful remembrance, her forgiveness, +her unconquerable love.</p> + +<p>But it was late when the players reached Walton; and, after the +necessary arrangements for the evening were concluded, Zelma found that +she had no time for a pilgrimage to the parish churchyard. She could see +it from a window of her lodgings;—it was high-walled, dark and damp, +crowded with quaint, mossy tomb-stones, and brooded over by immemorial +yews. In the deepening, misty twilight, there was something awful in the +spot. It was easy to fancy unquiet spectres lurking in its gloomy +shadows, waiting for the night Yet Zelma's heart yearned toward it, and +she murmured softly, as she turned away, "Wait for me, love!"</p> + +<p>The play, on this night, was "The Fair Penitent." In the character of +Calista Mrs. Bury had always been accounted great, though it was +distasteful to her. Indeed, for the entire play she expressed only +contempt and aversion; yet she played her part in it faithfully and +carefully, as she performed all professional tasks.</p> + +<p>In reading this tragedy now, one is at a loss to understand how such +trash could have been tolerated at the very time of the revival of a +pure dramatic literature,—how such an unsavored broth of sentiment, +such a meagre hash of heroics, could have been relished, even when +served by Kembles, after the rich, varied, Olympian banquets of +Shakspeare.</p> + +<p>The argument is briefly this:—</p> + +<p>Calista, daughter of Sciolto, is betrothed to Altamount, a young lord, +favored by Sciolto. Altamount has a friend, Horatio, and an enemy, +Lothario, secretly the lover and seducer of Calista, whose dishonor is +discovered by Horatio, shortly after her marriage with Altamount, to +whom he reveals it. Calista denies the charge, with fierce indignation +and scorn; and the young husband believes her and discredits his friend. +But the fourth act brings the guilt of Calista and the villany of +Lothario fully to light. Lothario is killed by the injured husband, +Sciolto goes mad with shame and rage, and Calista falls into a state of +despair and penitence.</p> + +<p>The fifth act opens with Sciolto's elaborate preparations for vengeance +on his daughter. The stage directions for this scene are,—</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +["<i>A room hung with black: on one side Lothario's +body on a bier; on the other a table, +with a skull and other bones, a book, and a +lamp on it. Calista is discovered on a couch, +in black, her hair hanging loose and disordered. +After soft music, she rises and comes +forward</i>."] +</p> + +<p>She takes the book from the table, but, finding it the pious prosing of +some "lazy, dull, luxurious gownsman," flings it aside. She examines the +cross-bones curiously, lays her hand on the skull, soliloquizing upon +mortality, somewhat in the strain of Hamlet; then peers into the coffin +of Lothario, beholds his pale visage, "grim with clotted blood," and the +stern, unwinking stare of his dead eyes. Sciolto enters and bids her +prepare to die; but while she stands meek and unresisting before him, +his heart fails him; he rushes out, and is shortly after killed by +Lothario's faction. Calista then dies by her own hand, leaving Altamount +desperate and despairing.</p> + +<p>Poor Calista is neither a lovely nor a lofty character; but there is +something almost grand in her fierce pride, in her defiant <i>hauteur</i>, in +her mighty struggle with shame. Mrs. Siddons made the part terribly +impressive. Mrs. Bury softened it somewhat, giving it a womanly dignity +and pathos that would seem foreign and almost impossible to the +character.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Zelma entered her dressing-room, on that first night at Walton, she +found on her table a small spray of hawthorn-blossoms.</p> + +<p>"How came these flowers here?" she asked, in a hurried, startled tone.</p> + +<p>"I placed them there," replied her little maid, Susan, half-frightened +by the strange agitation of her mistress. "I plucked the sprig in our +landlady's garden; for I remembered that you loved hawthorn-blossoms, +and used often to buy them in Covent-Garden Market."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; thank you, Susan. I do indeed love them, and I will wear them +to-night."</p> + +<p>As she said this, she placed the flowers in her bosom,—but, the little +maid noticed, not as an ornament, but quite out of sight, where her +close bodice would crush them against her heart.</p> + +<p>During the first acts of the play, Zelma was languid, absent, and more +unequal than usual. A strange sense of evil, a vague foreboding, haunted +her. It was in vain that she said to herself, "What have I, a lonely, +disappointed woman, loveless and joyless, to fear of misfortune +more,—since death itself were welcome as change, and doubly welcome as +rest?" The nameless fear still clung to her, sending cold thrills along +her veins, fiercely grasping and holding her palpitating heart.</p> + +<p>When, in the last act, reclining on her sombre couch, she waited through +the playing of the "soft music," there came to her a little season of +respite and calm. Tender thoughts, and sweet, wild fancies of other days +revisited her. The wilted hawthorn-blossoms in her bosom seemed to +revive and to pour forth volumes of fragrance, which enveloped her like +an atmosphere; and as she rose and advanced slowly toward the +foot-lights, winking dimly like funeral lamps amid the gloom of the +scene, it strangely seemed to her that she was going down the long, +sweet lane of Burleigh Grange. The magic of that perfume, and something +of kindred sweetness in the sad, wailing music, brought old times and +scenes before her with preternatural distinctness. Then she became +conscious of a <i>something</i> making still darker and deeper the gloomy +shadows cast by the black hangings of the scene,—a presence, not +palpable or visible to the senses, but terribly real to the finer +perceptions of the spirit,—a presence unearthly, yet familiar and +commanding, persistent, resistless, unappeasable,—moving as she moved, +pausing as she paused, clutching at her hands, and searching after her +eyes. The air about her seemed heavy with a brooding horror which sought +to resolve itself into shape,—the dread mystery of life in death +waiting to be revealed. Her own soul seemed groping and beating against +the veil which hides the unseen; she gasped, she trembled, and great +drops, like the distillation of the last mortal anguish, burst from her +forehead.</p> + +<p>She was roused by a murmur of applause from the audience. She was acting +so well! Nerving herself by an almost superhuman effort, her +phantom-haunted soul standing at bay, she approached the table, and +began, in a voice but slightly broken, the reading of her melancholy +soliloquy. But, as she laid her hand on the skull, she gave a wild start +of horror,—not at the touch of the cold, smooth bone, nor at the blank, +black stare of the eyeless sockets, but at finding beneath her hand a +mass of soft, curling hair, damp, as with night-dew!—at beholding eyes +with "speculation" in them,—ay, with human passions, luminous and +full,—eyes that now yearned with love, now burned with hate,—ah, God! +the eyes of Lawrence Bury!</p> + +<p>With a shrill, frenzied shriek, Zelma sprang back and stood for a moment +shuddering and crouching in a mute agony of fear. Then she burst into +wild cries of grief and passionate entreaty, stretching her tremulous +hands into the void air, in piteous imploring.</p> + +<p>"She has gone mad! Take her away!" shouted the excited audience; but +before any one could reach her, she had fallen on the stage in strong +convulsions.</p> + +<p>The actors raised her and bore her out; and as they did so, a little +stream of blood was seen to bubble from her lips. A medical man, who +happened to be present, having proffered his services, was hurried +behind the scenes to where the sufferer lay, on a rude couch in the +green-room, surrounded by the frightened players, and wept over by her +faithful little maid.</p> + +<p>The audience lingered awhile within sound of the fitful, frenzied cries +of the dying actress, and then dispersed in dismay and confusion.</p> + +<p>Zelma remained for some hours convulsed and delirious; but toward +morning she sank into a deep, swoon-like sleep of utter exhaustion. She +awoke from this, quite sane and calm, but marble-white and cold,—the +work of death all done, it seemed, save the dashing out of the sad, wild +light yet burning in her sunken eyes. But the bright red blood no longer +oozed from her lips, and they told her she was better. She gave no heed +to the assurance, but, somewhat in her old, quick, decisive way, called +for the manager. Scarcely had he reached her side, when she began to +question him eagerly, though in hoarse, failing tones, in regard to the +skull used in the play of the preceding night. The manager had procured +it of the sexton, he said, and knew nothing more of it.</p> + +<p>She sent for the sexton. He came,—a man "of the earth, earthy,"—a man +with a grave-ward stoop and a strange uneven gait, caught in forty +years' stumbling over mounds. A smell of turf and mould, an odor of +mortality, went before him.</p> + +<p>He approached the couch of the actress, and looked down upon her with a +curious, professional look, as though he were peering into a face newly +coffined or freshly exhumed; but when Zelma fixed her live eyes upon +him, angry and threatening, and asked, in abrupt, yet solemn tones, +"Whose was that skull you brought for me last night?" he fell back with +an exclamation of surprise and terror. As soon as he could collect +himself sufficiently, he replied, that, to the best of his knowledge, +the skull had belonged to a poor play-actor, who had died in the parish +some sixteen or, it might be, eighteen years before; and compelled by +the merciless inquisition of those eyes, fixed and stern, though +dilating with horror, he added, that, if his memory served him well, the +player's name was <i>Bury</i>.</p> + +<p>A strong shudder shivered through the poor woman's frame at this +confirmation of the awful revealment of the previous night; but she +replied calmly, though with added sternness,—"He was my husband. How +dared you disturb his bones? Are you a ghoul, that you burrow among +graves and steal from the dead?"</p> + +<p>The poor man eagerly denied being anything so inhuman. The skull had +rolled into a grave he had been digging by the side of the almost +forgotten grave of the poor player; and, as the manager had bespoken one +for the play, he had thought it no harm to furnish him this. But he +would put it back carefully into its place that very day.</p> + +<p>"See that you do it, man, if you value the repose of your own soul!" +said Zelma, with an awful impressiveness, raising herself on one elbow +and looking him out of the room.</p> + +<p>When he was gone, she sunk back and murmured, partly to herself, partly +to her little maid, who wept through all, the more that she did not +understand,—"I knew it was so; it was needless to ask. Well, 'tis well; +he will forgive me, now that I come when he calls me, accomplishing to +the utmost my vow. He will make peace with me, when I take my old place +at his side,—when my head shall lie as low as his,—when he sees that +all the laurels have dropped away,—when he sees the sorrow shining +through the dark of my hair in rifts of silver."</p> + +<p>After a little time she grew restless, and would return to her lodgings.</p> + +<p>As the doctor and her attendant were about placing her in a sedan-chair +to bear her away, a strange desire seized her to behold the theatre and +tread the boards once more. They conducted her to the centre of the +stage, and seated her on the black couch of Calista. There they left her +quite alone for a while, and stood back where they could observe without +disturbing her. They saw her gaze about her dreamily and mournfully; +then she seemed to be recalling and reciting some favorite part. To +their surprise, the tones of her voice were clear and resonant once +more; and when she had ceased speaking, she rose and walked toward them, +slowly, but firmly, turning once or twice to bow proudly and solemnly to +an invisible audience. Just before she reached them, she suddenly +pressed her hand on her heart, and the next instant felt forward into +the arms of her maid. The young girl could not support the weight—the +<i>dead</i> weight, and sank with it to the floor. Zelma had made her last +exit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="INNOCENTS" id="INNOCENTS" /><span class='smcap'>The Murder of the Innocents.</span></h3> + +<h4><span class='smcap'>A Second Epistle to Dolorosus.</span></h4> + +<p>So you are already mending, my dear fellow? Can it be that my modest +epistle has done so much service? Are you like those invalids in Central +Africa, who, when the medicine itself is not accessible, straightway +swallow the written prescription as a substitute, inwardly digest it, +and recover? No,—I think you have tested the actual <i>materia medica</i> +recommended. I hear of you from all directions, walking up hills in the +mornings and down hills in the afternoons, skimming round in wherries +like a rather unsteady water-spider, blistering your hands upon +gymnastic bars, receiving severe contusions on your nose from +cricket-balls, shaking up and down on hard-trotting horses, and making +the most startling innovations in respect to eating, sleeping, and +bathing. Like all our countrymen, you are plunging from one extreme to +the other. Undoubtedly, you will soon make yourself sick again; but your +present extreme is the safer of the two. Time works many miracles; it +has made Louis Napoleon espouse the cause of liberty, and it may yet +make you reasonable.</p> + +<p>After all, that advice of mine, which is thought to have benefited you +so greatly, was simply that which Dr. Abernethy used to give his +patients: "Don't come to me,—go buy a skipping-rope." If you can only +guard against excesses, and keep the skipping-rope in operation, there +are yet hopes for you. Only remember that it is equally important to +preserve health as to attain it, and it needs much the same regimen. Do +not be like that Lord Russell in Spence's Anecdotes, who only went +hunting for the sake of an appetite, and who, the moment he felt any +sensation of vitality in the epigastrium, used to turn short round, +exclaiming, "I have found it!" and ride home from the finest chase. It +was the same Lord Russell, by the way, who, when he met a beggar and was +implored to give him something, because he was almost famished with +hunger, called him a happy dog, and envied him too much to relieve him. +From some recent remarks of your boarding-house hostess, my friend, I am +led to suppose that you are now almost as well off, in point of +appetite, as if you were a beggar; and I wish to keep you so.</p> + +<p>How much the spirits rise with health! A family of children is a very +different sight to a healthy man and to a dyspeptic. What pleasure you +now take in yours! You are going to live more in their manner and for +their sakes, henceforward, you tell me. You are to enter upon business +again, but in a more moderate way; you are to live in a pleasant little +suburban cottage, with fresh air, a horse-railroad, and good schools. +For I am startled to find that your interest In your offspring, like +that of most American parents, culminates in the school-room. This +important matter you have neglected long enough, you think, foolishly +absorbed in making money for them. Now they shall have money enough, to +be sure, but wisdom in plenty. Angelina shall walk in silk attire, and +knowledge have to spare. To which school shall you send her? you ask me, +with something of the old careworn expression, pulling six different +prospectuses from your pocket. Put them away, Dolorosus; I know the +needs of Angelina, and I can answer instantly. Send the girl, for the +present at least, to that school whose daily hours of session are the +shortest, and whose recess-times and vacations are of the most +formidable length.</p> + +<p>No, anxious parent, I am not joking. I am more anxious for your children +than you are. On the faith of an ex-teacher and +ex-school-committee-man,—for what respectable middle-aged American man +but has passed through both these spheres of uncomfortable +usefulness?—I am terribly in earnest. Upon this point asserted,—that +the merit of an American school, at least so far as Angelina is +concerned, is in inverse ratio to the time given to study,—I will lay +down incontrovertible propositions.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott, according to Carlyle, was the only perfectly healthy +literary man who ever lived,—in fact, the one suitable text, he says, +for a sermon on health. You may wonder, Dolorosus, what Sir Walter Scott +has to do with Angelina, except to supply her with novel-reading, and +with passages for impassioned recitation, at the twilight hour, from the +"Lady of the Lake." But that same Scott has left one remark on record +which may yet save the lives and reasons of greater men than himself, +more gifted women (if that were possible) than Angelina, if we can only +accept it with the deference to which that same healthiness of his +entitles it. He gave it as his deliberate opinion, in conversation with +Basil Hall, that five and a half hours form the limit of healthful +mental labor for a mature person. "This I reckon very good work for a +man," he said,—adding, "I can very seldom reach six hours a day; and I +reckon that what is written after five or six hours' hard mental labor +is not good for much." This he said in the fulness of his magnificent +strength, and when he was producing, with astounding rapidity, those +pages of delight over which every new generation still hangs enchanted.</p> + +<p>He did not mean, of course, that this was the maximum of possible mental +labor, but only of wise and desirable labor. In later life, driven by +terrible pecuniary involvements, he himself worked far more than this. +Southey, his contemporary, worked far more,—writing, in 1814, "I cannot +get through more than at present, unless I give up sleep, or the little +exercise I take (walking a mile and back, after breakfast); and, that +hour excepted, and my meals, (barely the meals, for I remain not one +minute after them,) the pen or the book is always in my hand." Our own +time and country afford a yet more astonishing instance. Theodore +Parker, to my certain knowledge, has often spent in his study from +twelve to seventeen hours daily, for weeks together. But the result in +all these cases has sadly proved the supremacy of the laws which were +defied; and the nobler the victim, the more tremendous the warning +retribution.</p> + +<p>Let us return, then, from the practice of Scott's ruined days to the +principles of his sound ones. Supposing his estimate to be correct, and +five and a half hours to be a reasonable limit for the day's work of a +mature brain, it is evident that even this must be altogether too much +for an immature one. "To suppose the youthful brain," says the recent +admirable report by Dr. Ray, of the Providence Insane Hospital, "to be +capable of an amount of work which is considered an ample allowance to +an adult brain is simply absurd, and the attempt to carry this fully +into effect must necessarily be dangerous to the health and efficacy of +the organ." It would be wrong, therefore, to deduct less than a +half-hour from Scott's estimate, for even the oldest pupils in our +highest schools; leaving five hours as the limit of real mental effort +for them, and reducing this, for all younger pupils, very much farther.</p> + +<p>It is vain to suggest, at this point, that the application of Scott's +estimate is not fair, because the mental labor of our schools is +different in quality from his, and therefore less exhausting. It differs +only in being more exhausting. To the robust and affluent mind of the +novelist, composition was not, of itself, exceedingly fatiguing; we know +this from his own testimony; he was able, moreover, to select his own +subject, keep his own hours, and arrange all his own conditions of +labor. And on the other hand, when we consider what energy and genius +have for years been brought to bear upon the perfecting of our +educational methods,—how thoroughly our best schools are now graded +and systematized, until each day's lessons become a Procrustes-bed to +which all must fit themselves,—how stimulating the apparatus of prizes +and applauses, how crushing the penalties of reproof and +degradation,—when we reflect, that it is the ideal of every school, +that the whole faculties of every scholar should be concentrated upon +every lesson and every recitation from beginning to end, and that +anything short of this is considered partial failure,—it is not +exaggeration to say, that the daily tension of brain demanded of +children in our best schools is altogether severer, while it lasts, than +that upon which Scott based his estimate. But Scott is not the only +authority in the case; let us ask the physiologists.</p> + +<p>So said Horace Mann, before us, in the days when the Massachusetts +school system was in process of formation. He asked the physiologists, +in 1840, and in his next Report printed the answers of three of the most +eminent. The late Dr. Woodward, of Worcester, promptly said, that +children under eight should never be confined more than one hour at a +time, nor more than four hours a day; and that, if any child showed +alarming symptoms of precocity, it should be taken from school +altogether. Dr. James Jackson, of Boston, allowed the children four +hours' schooling in winter and five in summer, but only one hour at a +time, and heartily expressed his "detestation of the practice of giving +young children lessons to learn at home." Dr. S. G. Howe, reasoning +elaborately on the whole subject, said, that children under eight should +not be confined more than half an hour at a time,—"by following which +rule, with long recesses, they can study four hours daily"; children +between eight and fourteen should not be confined more than +three-quarters of an hour at a time, having the last quarter of each +hour for exercise in the playground,—and he allowed six hours of school +in winter, or seven in summer, solely on condition of this deduction of +twenty-five per cent, for recesses.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the one thing about which doctors do <i>not</i> disagree is the +destructive effect of premature or excessive mental labor. I can quote +you medical authority for and against every maxim of dietetics beyond +the very simplest; but I defy you to find one man who ever begged, +borrowed, or stole the title of M.D., and yet abused those two honorary +letters by asserting, under their cover, that a child could safely study +as much as a man, or that a man could safely study more than six hours a +day. Most of the intelligent men in the profession would probably admit, +with Scott, that even that is too large an allowance in maturity for +vigorous work of the brain.</p> + +<p>Taking, then, five hours as the reasonable daily limit of mental effort +for children of eight to fourteen years, and one hour as the longest +time of continuous confinement, (it was a standing rule of the Jesuits, +by the way, that no pupil should study more than two hours without +relaxation,) the important question now recurs, To what school shall we +send Angelina?</p> + +<p>Shall we send her, for instance, to Dothegirls' Hall? At that seminary +of useful knowledge, I find by careful inquiry that the daily +performance is as follows, at least in summer. The pupils rise at or +before five, A.M.; at any rate, they study from five to seven, two +hours. From seven to eight they breakfast. From eight to two they are in +the schoolroom, six consecutive hours. From two to three they dine. From +three to five they are "allowed" to walk or take other exercise,—that +is, if it is pleasant weather, and if they feel the spirit for it, and +if the time is not all used up in sewing, writing letters, school +politics, and all the small miscellaneous duties of existence, for which +no other moment is provided during day or night. From five to six they +study; from six to seven comes the tea-table; from seven to nine study +again; then bed and (at least for the stupid ones) sleep.</p> + +<p>Eleven solid hours of study each day, Dolorosus! Eight for sleep, three +for meals, two during which out-door exercise is "allowed." There is no +mistake about this statement; I wish there were. I have not imagined it; +who could have done so, short of Milton and Dante, who were versed in +the exploration of kindred regions of torment? But as I cannot expect +the general public to believe the statement, even if you do,—and as +this letter, like my previous one, may accidentally find its way into +print,—and as I cannot refer to those who have personally attended the +school, since they probably die off too fast to be summoned as +witnesses,—I will come down to a rather milder statement, and see if +you will believe that.</p> + +<p>Shall we send her, then, to the famous New York school of Mrs. +Destructive? This is recently noticed as follows in the "Household +Journal":—"Of this most admirable school, for faithful and well-bred +system of education, we have long intended to speak approvingly; but in +the following extract from the circular the truth is more expressively +given:—'From September to April the time of rising is a quarter before +seven o'clock, and from April to July half an hour earlier; then +breakfast; after which, from eight to nine o'clock, study,—the school +opening at nine o'clock, with reading the Scriptures and prayer. From +nine until half past twelve, the recitations succeed one another, with +occasional short intervals of rest. From half past twelve to one, +recreation and lunch. From one to three o'clock, at which hour the +school closes, the studies are exclusively in the French language.... +From three to four o'clock in the winter, but later in the summer, +exercise in the open air. There are also opportunities for exercise +several times in the day, at short intervals, which cannot easily be +explained. From a quarter past four to five o'clock, study; then dinner, +and soon after, tea. From seven to nine, two hours of study; immediately +after which all retire for the night, and lights in the sleeping +apartments must be extinguished at half past nine.'" You have summed up +the total already, Dolorosus; I see it on your +lips;—nine—hours—and—a quarter of study, and one solitary hour for +exercise, not counting those inexplicable "short intervals which cannot +easily be explained!"</p> + +<p>You will be pleased to hear that I have had an opportunity of witnessing +the brilliant results of Mrs. Destructive's system, in the case of my +charming little neighbor, Fanny Carroll. She has lately returned from a +stay of one year under that fashionable roof. In most respects, I was +assured, the results of the school were all that could be desired; the +mother informed me, with delight, that the child now spoke French like +an angel from Paris, and handled her silver fork like a seraph from the +skies. You may well suppose that I hastened to call upon her; for the +gay little creature was always a great pet of mine, and I always quoted +her with delight, as a proof that bloom and strength were not +monopolized by English girls. In the parlor I found the mother closeted +with the family physician. Soon, Fanny, aged sixteen, glided in,—a pale +spectre, exquisite in costume, unexceptionable in manners, looking in +all respects like an exceedingly used-up belle of five-and-twenty. "What +were you just saying that some of my Fanny's symptoms were, Doctor?" +asked the languid mother, as if longing for a second taste of some +dainty morsel. The courteous physician dropped them into her eager palm, +like sugar-plums, one by one: "Vertigo, headache, neuralgic pains, and +general debility." The mother sighed once genteelly at me, and then +again, quite sincerely, to herself;—but I never yet saw an habitual +invalid who did not seem to take a secret satisfaction in finding her +child to be a chip of the old block, though block and chip were both +wofully decayed. However, nothing is now said of Miss Carroll's +returning to school; and the other day I actually saw her dashing +through the lane on the family pony, with a tinge of the old brightness +in her cheeks. I ventured to inquire of her, soon after, if she had +finished her education; and she replied, with a slight tinge of satire, +that she studied regularly every day, at various "short intervals, +which could not easily be explained."</p> + +<p>Five hours a day the safe limit for study, Dolorosus, and these terrible +schools quietly put into their programmes nine, ten, eleven hours; and +the deluded parents think they have out-manoeuvred the laws of Nature, +and made a better bargain with Time. But these are private, exclusive +schools, you may say, for especially favored children. We cannot afford +to have most of the rising generation murdered so expensively; and in +our public schools, at least, one thinks there may be some relaxation of +this tremendous strain. Besides, physiological reformers had the making +of our public system. "A man without high health," said Horace Mann, "is +as much at war with Nature as a guilty soul is at war with the spirit of +God." Look first at our Normal Schools, therefore, and see how finely +their theory, also, presents this same lofty view.</p> + +<p>"Those who have had much to do with students, especially with the female +portion," said a Normal School Report a few years since, "well know the +sort of martyr-spirit that extensively prevails,—how ready they often +are to sacrifice everything for the sake of a good lesson,—how false +are their notions of true economy in mental labor, ... sacrificing their +physical natures most unscrupulously to their intellectual. Indeed, so +strong had this passion for abuse become [in this institution], that no +study of the laws of the physical organization, no warning, no painful +experiences of their own or of their associates, were sufficient to +overcome their readiness for self-sacrifice." And it appears, that, in +consequence of this state of things, circulars were sent to all +boarding-houses in the village, laying down stringent rules to prevent +the young ladies from exceeding the prescribed amount of study.</p> + +<p>Now turn from theory to practice. What was this "prescribed amount of +study" which these desperate young females persisted in exceeding in +this model school? It began with an hour's study before daylight (in +winter),—a thing most dangerous to eyesight, as multitudes have found +to their cost. Then from eight to half past two, from four to half past +five, from seven to nine,—with one or two slight recesses. Ten hours +and three quarters daily, Dolorosus! as surely as you are a living +sinner, and as surely as the Board of Education who framed that +programme were sinners likewise. I believe that some Normal Schools have +learned more moderation now; but I know also what forlorn wrecks of +womanhood have been strewed along their melancholy history, thus far; +and at what incalculable cost their successes have been purchased.</p> + +<p>But it is premature to contemplate this form of martyrdom, for Angelina, +who has to run the gantlet of our common schools and high schools first. +Let us consider her prospects in these, carrying with us that blessed +maxim, five hours' study a day,—"Nature loves the number five," as +Emerson judiciously remarks,—for our aegis against the wiles of +schoolmasters.</p> + +<p>The year 1854 is memorable for a bomb-shell then thrown into the midst +of the triumphant school-system of Boston, in the form of a solemn +protest by the city physician against the ruinous manner in which the +children were overworked. Fact, feeling, and physiology were brought to +bear, with much tact and energy, and the one special point of assault +was the practice of imposing out-of-school studies, beyond the habitual +six hours of session. A committee of inquiry was appointed. They +interrogated the grammar-school teachers. The innocent and unsuspecting +teachers were amazed at the suggestion of any excess. Most of them +promptly replied, in writing, that "they had never heard of any +complaints on this subject from parents or guardians"; that "most of the +masters were watchful upon the matter"; that "none of them <i>pressed</i> +out-of-school studies"; while "the general opinion appeared to be, that +a moderate amount of out-of-school study was both necessary for the +prescribed course of study and wholesome in its influence on character +and habits." They suggested that "commonly the ill health that might +exist arose from other causes than excessive study"; one attributed it +to the use of confectionery, another to fashionable parties, another to +the practice of "chewing pitch,"—anything, everything, rather than +admit that American children of fourteen could possibly be damaged by +working only two hours day <i>more</i> than Walter Scott.</p> + +<p>However, the committee thought differently. At any rate, they fancied +that they had more immediate control over the school-hours than they +could exercise over the propensity of young girls for confectionery, or +over the improprieties of small boys who, yet immature for tobacco, +touched pitch and were defiled. So by their influence was passed that +immortal Section 7 of Chapter V. of the School Regulations,—the Magna +Charta of childish liberty, so far as it goes, and the only safeguard +which renders it prudent to rear a family within the limits of Boston:—</p> + +<p>"In assigning lessons to boys to be studied out of school-hours, the +instructors shall not assign a longer lesson than a boy of good capacity +can acquire by an hour's study; but no out-of-school lessons shall be +assigned to girls, nor shall the lessons to be studied in school be so +long as to require a scholar of ordinary capacity to study out of school +in order to learn them."</p> + +<p>It appears that since that epoch this rule has "generally" been +observed, "though many of the teachers would prefer a different +practice." "The rule is regarded by some as an uncomfortable +restriction, which without, adequate reason (!) retards the progress of +pupils." "A majority of our teachers would consider the permission to +assign lessons for study at home to be a decided advantage and +privilege." So say the later reports of the committee.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for Angelina and the junior members of the house of +Dolorosus, you are not now directly dependent upon Boston regulations. I +mention them only because they represent a contest which is inevitable +in every large town in the United States where the public-school system +is sufficiently perfected to be dangerous. It is simply the question, +whether children can bear more brain-work than men can. Physiology, +speaking through my humble voice, (the personification may remind you of +the days when men began poems with "Inoculation, heavenly maid!") +shrieks loudly for five hours as the utmost limit, and four hours as far +more reasonable than six. But even the comparatively moderate "friends +of education" still claim the contrary. Mr. Bishop, the worthy +Superintendent of Schools in Boston, says, (Report, 1855,) "The time +daily allotted to studies may very properly be extended to seven hours a +day for young persons over fifteen years of age"; and the Secretary of +the Massachusetts Board of Education, in his recent volume, seems to +think it a great concession to limit the period for younger pupils to +six.</p> + +<p>And we must not forget, that, frame regulations as we may, the tendency +will always be to overrun them. In the report of the Boston +sub-committee to which I have referred, it was expressly admitted that +the restrictions recommended "would not alone remedy the evil, or do +much toward it; there would still be much, and with the ambitious too +much, studying out of school." They ascribed the real difficulty "to the +general arrangements of our schools, and to the strong pressure from +various causes urging the pupils to intense application and the masters +to encourage it," and said that this "could only be met by some general +changes introduced by general legislation." Some few of the masters had +previously admitted the same thing: "The pressure from without, the +expectations of the committee, the wishes of the parents, the ambition +of the pupils, and an exacting public sentiment, do tend to stimulate +many to excessive application, both in and out of school."</p> + +<p>This admits the same fact, in a different form. If these children have +half their vitality taken out of them for life by premature and +excessive brain-work, it makes no difference whether it is done in the +form of direct taxation or of indirect,—whether they are compelled to +it by authority or allured into it by excitement and emulation. If a +horse breaks a blood-vessel by running too hard, it is no matter whether +he was goaded by whip and spur, or ingeniously coaxed by the Hibernian +method of a lock of hay tied six inches before his nose. The method is +nothing,—it is the pace which kills. Probably the fact is, that for +every extra hour directly required by the teacher, another is indirectly +extorted in addition by the general stimulus of the school. The best +scholars put on the added hour, because they are the best,—and the +inferior scholars, because they are not the best. In either case the +excess is destructive in its tendency, and the only refuge for +individuals is to be found in a combination of fortunate dulness with +happy indifference to shame. But is it desirable, my friend, to +construct our school-system on such a basis that safety and health shall +be monopolized by the stupid and the shameless?</p> + +<p>Is this magnificent system of public instruction, the glory of the +world, to turn out merely a vast machine for grinding down Young +America, just as the system of middle-men, similarly organized, has +ground down the Irish peasantry? Look at it! as now arranged, committees +are responsible to the public, teachers to committees, pupils to +teachers,—all pledged to extract a maximum crop from childish brains. +Each is responsible to the authority next above him for a certain +amount, and must get it out of the victim next below him. Constant +improvements in machinery perfect and expedite the work; improved gauges +and metres (in the form of examinations) compute the comparative yield +to a nicety, and allow no evasion. The child cannot spare an hour, for +he must keep up with the other children; the teacher dares not relax, +for he must keep up with the other schools; the committees must only +stimulate, not check, for the eyes of the editors are upon them, and the +municipal glory is at stake: every one of these, from highest to lowest, +has his appointed place in the tread-mill and must keep step with the +rest; and only once a year, at the summer vacation, the vast machine +stops, and the poor remains of childish brain and body are taken out and +handed to anxious parents (like you, Dolorosus):—"Here, most worthy +tax-payer, is the dilapidated residue of your beloved Angelina; take her +to the sea-shore for a few weeks, and make the most of her."</p> + +<p>Do not you know that foreigners, coming from the contemplation of races +less precociously intellectual, see the danger we are in, if we do not? +I was struck by the sudden disappointment of an enthusiastic English +teacher, (Mr. Calthrop,) who visited the New York schools the other day +and got a little behind the scenes. "If I wanted a stranger to believe +that the Millennium was not far off," he said, "I would take him to some +of those grand ward-schools in New York, where able heads are trained by +the thousand. I spent four or five days in doing little else than going +through these truly wonderful schools. I staid more than three hours in +one of them, wondering at all I saw, admiring the stately order, the +unbroken discipline of the whole arrangements, and the wonderful +quickness and intelligence of the scholars. That same evening I went to +see a friend, whose daughter, a child of thirteen, was at one of these +schools. I examined her, and found that the little girl could hold her +own with many of larger growth. 'Did she go to school to-day?' asked I. +'No,' was the answer, 'she has not been for some time, as she was +beginning to get quite a serious curvature of the spine; so now she goes +regularly to a gymnastic doctor!'"</p> + +<p>I am sure that we have all had the same experience. How exciting it was, +last year, to be sure, to see Angelina at the grammar-school +examination, multiplying mentally 351,426 by 236,145, and announcing the +result in two minutes and thirteen seconds as 82,987,492,770! I +remember how you stood trembling as she staggered under the monstrous +load, and how your cheek hung out the red flag of parental exultation +when she can out safe. But when I looked at her colorless visage, sharp +features, and shiny consumptive skin, I groaned inwardly. It seemed as +if that crop of figures, like the innumerable florets of the whiteweed, +now overspreading your paternal farm, were exhausting the last vitality +from a shallow soil. What a pity it is that the Deity gave to these +children of ours bodies as well as brains! How it interferes with +thorough instruction in the languages and the sciences! You remember the +negro-trader in "Uncle Tom," who sighs for a lot of negroes specially +constructed for his convenience, with the souls left out? Could not some +of our school-committees take measures to secure the companion set, +possessing merely the brains, and with the troublesome bodies +conveniently omitted?</p> + +<p>The truth is, that we Americans, having overcome all other obstacles to +universal education of the people, have thought to overcome even the +limitations imposed by the laws of Nature; and so we were going +triumphantly on, when the ruined health of our children suddenly brought +us to a stand. Now we suddenly discover, that, in the absence of +Inquisitions, and other unpleasant Old-World tortures, our school-houses +have taken their place. We have outgrown war, we think; and yet we have +not outgrown a form of contest which is undeniably more sanguinary, +since one-half the community actually die, under present arrangements, +before they are old enough to see a battle-field,—that is, before the +age of eighteen. It is an actual fact, that, if you can only keep +Angelina alive up to that birthday, even if she be an ignoramus, she +will at least have accomplished the feat of surviving half her +contemporaries. Can there be no Peace Society to check this terrific +carnage? Dolorosus, rather than have a child of mine die, as I have +recently heard of a child's dying, insane from sheer overwork, and +raving of algebra, I would have her come no nearer to the splendors of +science than the man in the French play, who brings away from school +only the general impression that two and two make five for a creditor +and three for a debtor.</p> + +<p>De Quincey wrote a treatise on "Murder considered as one of the Fine +Arts," and it is certainly the fine art which receives most attention in +our schools. "So far as the body is concerned," said Horace Mann of +these institutions, "they provide for all the natural tendencies to +physical ease and inactivity as carefully as though paleness and +languor, muscular enervation and debility, were held to be constituent +elements in national beauty." With this denial of the body on one side, +with this tremendous stimulus of brain on the other, and with a delicate +and nervous national organization to begin with, the result is +inevitable. Boys hold out better than girls, partly because they are not +so docile in school, partly because they are allowed to be more active +out of it, and so have more recuperative power. But who has not seen +some delicate girl, after five consecutive hours spent over French and +Latin and Algebra, come home to swallow an indigestible dinner, and +straightway settle down again to spend literally every waking hour out +of the twenty-four in study, save those scanty meal-times,—protracting +the labor, it may be, far into the night, till the weary eyes close +unwillingly over the slate or the lexicon,—then to bed, to be vexed by +troubled dreams, instead of being wrapt in the sunny slumber of +childhood,—waking unrefreshed, to be reproached by parents and friends +with the nervous irritability which this detestable routine has created?</p> + +<p>For I aver that parents are more exacting than even teachers. It is +outrageous to heap it all upon the pedagogues, as if they were the only +apostolical successors of him whom Charles Lamb lauded "the much +calumniated good King Herod." Indeed, teachers have no objection to +educating the bodies of their small subjects, if they can only be as +well paid for it as for educating their intellects. But, until recently, +they have never been allowed to put the bodies into the bill. And as +charity begins at home, even in a physiological sense,—and as their own +children's bodies required bread and butter,—they naturally postponed +all regard for the physical education of their pupils until the thing +acquired a marketable value. Now that the change is taking place, every +schoolmaster in the land gladly adapts himself to it, and hastens to +insert in his advertisement, "Especial attention given to physical +education." But what good does this do, so long as parents are not +willing that time enough should be deducted from the ordinary tasks to +make the athletic apparatus available,—so long as it is regarded as a +merit in pupils to take time from their plays and give it to extra +studies,—so long as we exult over an inactive and studious child, as +Dr. Beattie did over his, that "exploits of strength, dexterity, and +speed" "to him no vanity or joy could bring," and then almost die of +despair, like Dr. Beattie, because such a child dies before us? With +girls it is far worse. "Girls, during childhood, are liable to no +diseases distinct from those of boys," says Salzmann, "except the +disease of education." What mother in decent society, I ask you, who is +not delighted to have her little girl devote even Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons to additional tasks in drawing or music, rather than run the +risk of having her make a noise somewhere, or possibly even soil her +dress? Papa himself will far more readily appropriate ten dollars to +this additional confinement than five to the gymnasium or the +riding-school. And so, beset with snares on every hand, the poor little +well-educated thing can only pray the prayer recorded of a despairing +child, brought up in the best society,—that she might "die and go to +heaven and play with the Irish children on Saturday afternoons."</p> + +<p>And the Sunday Schools coöperate with the week-day seminaries in the +pious work of destruction. Dolorosus, are all your small neighbors hard +at work in committing to memory Scripture texts for a wager,—I have an +impression, however, that they call it a prize,—consisting of one +Bible? In my circle of society the excitement runs high. At any +tea-drinking, you may hear the ladies discussing the comparative points +and prospects of their various little Ellens and Harriets, with shrill +eagerness; while their husbands, on the other side of the room, are +debating the merits of Ethan Allen and Flora Temple, the famous +trotting-horses, who are soon expected to try their speed on our +"Agricultural Ground." Each horse, and each girl, appears to have +enthusiastic backers, though the Sunday-School excitement has the +advantage of lasting longer. From inquiry, I find the state of the field +to be about as follows:—Fanny Hastings, who won the prize last year, is +not to be entered for it again; she damaged her memory by the process, +her teacher tells me, so that she can now scarcely fix the simplest +lesson in her mind. Carry Blake had got up to five thousand verses, but +had such terrible headaches that her mother compelled her to stop, some +weeks ago; the texts have all vanished from her brain, but the headache +unfortunately still lingers. Nelly Sanborn has reached six thousand, +although her anxious father long since tried to buy her off by offering +her a new Bible twice as handsome as the prize one: but what did she +care for that? she said; she had handsome Bibles already, but she had no +intention of being beaten by Ella Prentiss. Poor child, we see no chance +for her; for Ella has it all her own way; she has made up a score of +seven thousand one hundred texts, and it is only three days to the fatal +Sunday. Between ourselves, I think Nelly does her work more fairly; for +Ella has a marvellous ingenuity in picking out easy verses, like Jack +Horner's plums, and valuing every sacred sentence, not by its subject, +but by its shortness. Still, she is bound to win.</p> + +<p>"How is her health this summer?" I asked her mother, the other day.</p> + +<p>"Well, her verses weigh on her," said the good woman, solemnly.</p> + +<p>And here I pledge you my word, Dolorosus, that to every one of these +statements I might append, as Miss Edgeworth does to every particularly +tough story,—"<i>N.B. This is a fact</i>." I will only add that our +Sunday-School Superintendent, who is a physician, told me that he had as +strong objections to the whole thing as I could have; but that it was no +use talking; all the other schools did it, and ours must; emulation was +the order of the day. "Besides," he added, with that sort of cheerful +hopelessness peculiar to his profession, "the boys are not trying for +the prize much, this year; and as for the girls, they would probably +lose their health very soon, at any rate, and may as well devote it to a +sacred cause."</p> + +<p>Do not misunderstand me. The supposed object in this case is a good one, +just as the object in week-day schools is a good one,—to communicate +valuable knowledge and develop the powers of the mind. The defect in +policy, in both cases, appears to be, that it totally defeats its own +aim, renders the employments hateful that should be delightful, and +sacrifices the whole powers, so far as its influence goes, without any +equivalent. All excess defeats itself. As a grown man can work more in +ten hours than in fifteen, taking a series of days together, so a child +can make more substantial mental progress in five hours daily than in +ten. Your child's mind is not an earthen jar, to be filled by pouring +into it; it is a delicate plant, to be wisely and healthfully reared; +and your wife might as well attempt to enrich her mignonette-bed by +laying a Greek Lexicon upon it as try to cultivate that young nature by +a topdressing of Encyclopædias. I use the word on high authority. +"Courage, my boy!" wrote Lord Chatham to his son, "only the Encyclopædia +to learn!"—and the cruel diseases of a lifetime repaid Pitt for the +forcing. I do not object to the severest <i>quality</i> of study for boys or +girls;—while their brains work, let them work in earnest. But I do +object to this immoderate and terrific <i>quantity</i>. Cut down every +school, public and private, to five hours' total work <i>per diem</i> for the +oldest children, and four for the younger ones, and they will accomplish +more in the end than you ever saw them do in six or seven. Only give +little enough at a time, and some freshness to do it with, and you may, +if you like, send Angelina to any school, and put her through the whole +programme of the last educational prospectus sent to me,—"Philology, +Pantology, Orthology, Aristology, and Linguistics."</p> + +<p>For what is the end to be desired? Is it to exhibit a prodigy, or to +rear a noble and symmetrical specimen of a human being? Because Socrates +taught that a boy who has learned to speak is not too small for the +sciences,—because Tiberius delivered his father's funeral oration at +the age of nine, and Marcus Aurelius put on the philosophic gown at +twelve, and Cicero wrote a treatise on the art of speaking at +thirteen,—because Lipsius is said to have composed a work the day he +was born, meaning, say the commentators, that he began a new life at the +age of ten,—because the learned Licetus, who was brought into the world +so feeble as to be baked up to maturity in an oven, sent forth from that +receptacle, like a loaf of bread, a treatise called +"Gonopsychanthropologia,"—is it, therefore, indispensably necessary, +Dolorosus, that all your pale little offspring shall imitate these? +Spare these innocents! it is not their fault that they are your +children,—so do not visit it upon them so severely. Turn, Angelina, +ever dear, and out of a little childish recreation we will yet extract a +great deal of maturer wisdom for you, if we can only bring this deluded +parent to his senses.</p> + +<p>To change the sweet privilege of childhood into weary days and restless +nights,—to darken its pure associations, which for many are the sole +light that ever brings them back from sin and despair to the heaven of +their infancy,—to banish those reveries of innocent fancy which even +noisy boyhood knows, and which are the appointed guardians of its purity +before conscience wakes,—to abolish its moments of priceless idleness, +saturated with sunshine, blissful, aimless moments, when every angel is +near,—to bring insanity, once the terrible prerogative of maturer life, +down into the summer region of childhood, with blight and ruin;—all +this is the work of our folly, Dolorosus, of our miserable ambition to +have our unconscious little ones begin, in their very infancy, the race +of desperate ambition, which has, we admit, exhausted prematurely the +lives of their parents.</p> + +<p>The worst danger of it is, that the moral is written at the end of the +fable, not the beginning. The organization in youth is so dangerously +elastic, that the result of these intellectual excesses is not seen +until years after. When some young girl incurs spinal disease for life +from some slight fall which she ought not to have felt for an hour, or +some businessman breaks down in the prime of his years from some +trifling over-anxiety which should have left no trace behind, the +popular verdict may be, "Mysterious Providence"; but the wiser observer +sees the retribution for the folly of those misspent days which +enfeebled the childish constitution, instead of ripening it. One of the +most admirable passages in the Report of Dr. Ray, already mentioned, is +that in which he explains, that, though hard study at school is rarely +the immediate cause of insanity, it is the most frequent of its ulterior +causes, except hereditary tendencies. "It diminishes the conservative +power of the animal economy to such a degree, that attacks of disease, +which otherwise would have passed off safely, destroy life almost before +danger is anticipated. Every intelligent physician understands, that, +other things being equal, the chances of recovery are far less in the +studious, highly intellectual child than in one of an opposite +description. The immediate mischief may have seemed slight, but the +brain is left in a condition of peculiar impressibility, which renders +it morbidly sensitive to every adverse influence."</p> + +<p>Indeed, here is precisely the weakness of our whole national training +thus far,—brilliant immediate results, instead of wise delays. The life +of the average American is a very hasty breakfast, a magnificent +luncheon, a dyspeptic dinner, and no supper. Our masculine energy is +like our feminine beauty, bright and evanescent. As enthusiastic +travellers inform us that there are in every American village a dozen, +girls of sixteen who are prettier than any English hamlet of the same +size can produce, so the same village undoubtedly possesses a dozen very +young men who, tried by the same standard, are "smarter" than their +English peers. Come again fifteen years after, when the Englishmen and +Englishwomen are reported to be just in their prime, and, lo! those +lovely girls are sallow old women, and the boys are worn-out men,—with +fire left in them, it may be, but fuel gone,—retired from active +business, very likely, and just waiting for consumption to carry them +off, as one waits for the omnibus.</p> + +<p>To say that this should be amended is to say little. Either it must be +amended, or the American race fails;—there is no middle ground. If we +fail, (which I do not expect, I assure you,) we fail disastrously. If we +succeed, if we bring up our vital and muscular developments into due +proportion with our nervous energy, we shall have a race of men and +women such as the world never saw. Dolorosus, when in the course of +human events you are next invited to give a Fourth-of-July Oration, +grasp at the opportunity, and take for your subject "Health." Tell your +audience, when you rise to the accustomed flowers of rhetoric as the day +wears on, that Health is the central luminary, of which all the stars +that spangle the proud flag of our common country are but satellites; +and close with a hint to the plumed emblem of our nation, (pointing to +the stuffed one which will probably be exhibited on the platform,) that +she should not henceforward confine her energies to the hatching of +short-lived eaglets, but endeavor rather to educate a few full-grown +birds.</p> + +<p>As I take it, Nature said, some years since,—"Thus far the English is +my best race; but we have had Englishmen enough; now for another turning +of the globe, and a step farther. We need something with a little more +buoyancy than the Englishman; let us lighten the ship, even at the risk +of a little peril in the process. Put in one drop more of nervous fluid +and make the American." With that drop, a new range of promise opened on +the human race, and a lighter, finer, more highly organized type of +mankind was born. But the promise must be fulfilled through unequalled +dangers. With the new drop came new intoxication, new ardors, passions, +ambitions, hopes, reactions, and despairs,—more daring, more invention, +more disease, more insanity,—forgetfulness, at first, of the old, +wholesome traditions of living, recklessness of sin and saleratus, loss +of refreshing sleep and of the power of play. To surmount all this, we +have got to fight the good fight, I assure you, Dolorosus. Nature is yet +pledged to produce that finer type, and if we miss it, she will leave us +to decay, like our predecessors,—whirl the globe over once more, and +choose a new place for a new experiment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MY_DOUBLE" id="MY_DOUBLE" /><span class='smcap'>My Double; and How He Undid Me.</span></h3> + +<p>It is not often that I trouble the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly." I +should not trouble them now, but for the importunities of my wife, who +"feels to insist" that a duty to society is unfulfilled, till I have +told why I had to have a double, and how he undid me. She is sure, she +says, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure upon +public servants which alone drives any man into the employment of a +double. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that my +fortunes will never be remade, she has a faint hope, that, as another +Rasselas, I may teach a lesson to future publics, from which they may +profit, though we die. Owing to the behaviour of my double, or, if you +please, to that public pressure which compelled me to employ him, I have +plenty of leisure to write this communication.</p> + +<p>I am, or rather was, a minister, of the Sandemanian connection. I was +settled in the active, wide-awake town of Naguadavick, on one of the +finest water-powers in Maine. We used to call it a Western town in the +heart of the civilization of New England. A charming place it was and +is. A spirited, brave young parish had I; and it seemed as if we might +have all "the joy of eventful living" to our hearts' content.</p> + +<p>Alas! how little we knew on the day of my ordination, and in those +halcyon moments of our first housekeeping! To be the confidential friend +in a hundred families in the town,—cutting the social trifle, as my +friend Haliburton says, "from the top of the whipped-syllabub to the +bottom of the sponge-cake, which is the foundation,"—to keep abreast of +the thought of the age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sunday to +interweave that thought with the active life of an active town, and to +inspirit both and make both infinite by glimpses of the Eternal Glory, +seemed such an exquisite forelock into one's life! Enough to do, and all +so real and so grand! If this vision could only have lasted!</p> + +<p>The truth is, that this vision was not in itself a delusion, nor, +indeed, half bright enough. If one could only have been left to do his +own business, the vision would have accomplished itself and brought out +new paraheliacal visions, each as bright as the original. The misery was +and is, as we found out, I and Polly, before long, that, besides the +vision, and besides the usual human and finite failures in life, (such +as breaking the old pitcher that came over in the "Mayflower," and +putting into the fire the Alpenstock with which her father climbed Mont +Blanc,)—besides these, I say, (imitating the style of Robinson Crusoe,) +there were pitch-forked in on us a great rowen-heap of humbugs, banded +down from some unknown seed-time, in which we were expected, and I +chiefly, to fulfil certain public functions before the community, of the +character of those fulfilled by the third row of supernumeraries who +stand behind the Sepoys in the spectacle of the "Cataract of the +Ganges." They were the duties, in a word, which one performs as member +of one or another social class or subdivision, wholly distinct from what +one does as A. by himself A. What invisible power put these functions on +me, it would be very hard to tell. But such power there was and is. And +I had not been at work a year before I found I was living two lives, one +real and one merely functional,—for two sets of people, one my parish, +whom I loved, and the other a vague public, for whom I did not care two +straws. All this was in a vague notion, which everybody had and has, +that this second life would eventually bring out some great results, +unknown at present, to somebody somewhere.</p> + +<p>Crazed by this duality of life, I first read Dr. Wigan on the "Duality +of the Brain," hoping that I could train one side of my head to do these +outside jobs, and the other to do my intimate and real duties. For +Richard Greenough once told me, that, in studying for the statue of +Franklin, he found that the left side of the great man's face was +philosophic and reflective, and the right side funny and smiling. If you +will go and look at the bronze statue, you will find he has repeated +this observation there for posterity. The eastern profile is the +portrait of the statesman Franklin, the western of Poor Richard. But Dr. +Wigan does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I failed. It +was then, that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look out for a +Double.</p> + +<p>I was, at first, singularly successful. We happened to be recreating at +Stafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day, for one of the +relaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monsonpon House. We +were passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny was +fulfilled! I saw my man!</p> + +<p>He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green +baize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But I +saw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He had +black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He stooped in +walking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine. And—choicest gift of +Fate in all—he had, not "a strawberry-mark on his left arm," but a cut +from a juvenile brickbat over his right eye, slightly affecting the play +of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I!—My fate was sealed!</p> + +<p>A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole thing. +It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow, of the +class known as shiftless, who had scaled his fate by marrying a dumb +wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I left +Stafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to Judge +Pynchon, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the name of +Dennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. We had explained to the Judge, what was +the precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman wished to adopt Dennis +under this new name into his family. It never occurred to him that +Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to shorten this +preface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at Naguadavick, there +entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress, myself, who am Mr. Frederic +Ingham, and my double, who was Mr. Frederic Ingham by as good right as +I.</p> + +<p>Oh, the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my pattern, +cutting his hair to match mine, and teaching him how to wear and how to +take off gold-bowed spectacles! Really, they were electro-plate, and the +glass was plain (for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent). Then in +four successive afternoons I taught, him four speeches. I had found +these would be quite enough for the supernumerary-Sepoy line of life, +and it was well for me they were. For though he was good-natured, he was +very shiftless, and it was, as our national proverb says, "like pulling +teeth" to teach him. But at the end of the next week he could say, with +quite my easy and frisky air,—</p> + +<ol> +<li>"Very well, thank you. And you?" This for an answer to casual +salutations.</li> + +<li>"I am very glad you liked it."</li> + +<li>"There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time."</li> + +<li>"I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of the room."</li> +</ol> + +<p>At first I had a feeling that I was going to be at great cost for +clothing him. But it proved, of course, at once, that, whenever he was +out, I should be at home. And I went, during the bright period of his +success, to so few of those awful pageants which require a black +dress-coat and what the ungodly call, after Mr. Dickens, a white choker, +that in the happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and jackets my days +went by as happily and cheaply as those of another Thalaba. And Polly +declares there was never a year when the tailoring cost so little. He +lived (Dennis, not Thalaba) in his wife's room over the kitchen. He had +orders never to show himself at that window. When he appeared in the +front of the house, I retired to my sanctissimum and my dressing-gown. +In short, the Dutchman and his wife, in the old weather-box, had not +less to do with each other than he and I. He made the furnace-fire and +split the wood before daylight; then he went to sleep again, and slept +late; then came for orders, with a red silk bandanna tied round his +head, with his overalls on, and his dress-coat and spectacles off. If we +happened to be interrupted, no one guessed that he was Frederic Ingham +as well as I; and, in the neighborhood, there grew up an impression that +the minister's Irishman worked day-times in the factory-village at New +Coventry. After I had given him his orders, I never saw him till the +next day.</p> + +<p>I launched him by sending him to a meeting of the Enlightenment Board. +The Enlightenment Board consists of seventy-four members, of whom +sixty-seven are necessary to form a quorum. One becomes a member under +the regulations laid down in old Judge Dudley's will. I became one by +being ordained pastor of a church in Naguadavick. You see you cannot +help yourself, if you would. At this particular time we had had four +successive meetings, averaging four hours each,—wholly occupied in +whipping in a quorum. At the first only eleven men were present; at the +next, by force of three circulars, twenty-seven; at the third, thanks to +two days canvassing by Auchmuty and myself, begging men to come, we had +sixty. Half the others were In Europe. But without a quorum we could do +nothing. All the rest of us waited grimly for our four hours, and +adjourned without any action. At the fourth meeting we had flagged, and +only got fifty-nine together. But on the first appearance of my +double,—whom I sent on this fatal Monday to the fifth meeting,—he was +the sixty-seventh man who entered the room. He was greeted with a storm +of applause! The poor fellow had missed his way,—read the street signs +ill though his spectacles, (very ill, in fact, without them,)—and had +not dared to inquire. He entered the room,—finding the president and +secretary holding to their chairs two judges of the Supreme Court, who +were also members <i>ex officio</i>, and were begging leave to go away. On +his entrance all was changed. <i>Presto</i>, the by-laws were amended, and +the Western property was given away. Nobody stopped to converse with +him. He voted, as I had charged him to do, in every instance, with the +minority. I won new laurels as a man of sense, though a little +unpunctual,—and Dennis, <i>alias</i> Ingham, returned to the parsonage, +astonished to see with how little wisdom the world is governed. He cut a +few of my parishioners in the street; but he had his glasses off, and I +am known to be near-sighted. Eventually he recognized them more readily +than I.</p> + +<p>I "set him again" at the exhibition of the New Coventry Academy; and +here he undertook a "speaking part,"—as, in my boyish, worldly days, I +remember the bills used to say of Mlle. Céleste. We are all trustees of +the New Coventry Academy; and there has lately been "a good deal of +feeling" because the Sandemanian trustees did not regularly attend the +exhibitions. It has been intimated, indeed, that the Sandemanians are +leaning towards Free-Will, and that we have, therefore, neglected these +semi-annual exhibitions, while there is no doubt that Auchmuty last year +went to Commencement at Waterville. Now the head master at New Coventry +is a real good fellow, who knows a Sanskrit root when he sees it, and +often cracks etymologies with me,—so that, in strictness, I ought to go +to their exhibitions. But think, reader, of sitting through three long +July days in that Academy chapel, following the programme from</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +<span class='smcap'>Tuesday Morning</span>. <i>English Composition</i>. +"<span class='smcap'>Sunshine</span>." Miss Jones.<br /> +</p> + +<p>round to</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +Trio on Three Pianos. Duel from the Opera +of "Midshipman Easy." <i>Marryatt</i>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>coming in at nine, Thursday evening! Think of this, reader, for men who +know the world is trying to go backward, and who would give their lives +if they could help it on! Well! The double had succeeded so well at the +Board, that I sent him to the Academy. (Shade of Plato, pardon!) He +arrived early on Tuesday, when, indeed, few but mothers and clergymen +are generally expected, and returned in the evening to us, covered with +honors. He had dined at the right hand of the chairman, and he spoke in +high terms of the repast. The chairman had expressed his interest in the +French conversation. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis; and the +poor chairman, abashed, supposed the accent had been wrong. At the end +of the day, the gentlemen present had been called upon for +speeches,—the Rev. Frederic Ingham first, as it happened; upon which +Dennis had risen, and had said, "There has been so much said, and, on +the whole, so well said, that I will not occupy the time." The girls +were delighted, because Dr. Dabney, the year before, had given them at +this occasion a scolding on impropriety of behavior at lyceum lectures. +They all declared Mr. Ingham was a love,—and <i>so</i> handsome! (Dennis is +good-looking.) Three of them, with arms behind the others' waists, +followed him up to the wagon he rode home in; and a little girl with a +blue sash had been sent to give him a rosebud. After this <i>début</i> in +speaking, he went to the exhibition for two days more, to the mutual +satisfaction of all concerned. Indeed, Polly reported that he had +pronounced the trustees' dinners of a higher grade than those of the +parsonage. When the next term began, I found six of the Academy girls +had obtained permission to come across the river and attend our church. +But this arrangement did not long continue.</p> + +<p>After this he went to several Commencements for me, and ate the dinners +provided; he sat through three of our Quarterly Conventions for +me,—always voting judiciously, by the simple rule mentioned above, of +siding with the minority. And I, meanwhile, who had before been losing +caste among my friends, as holding myself aloof from the associations of +the body, began to rise in everybody's favor. "Ingham's a good +fellow,—always on hand"; "never talks much,—but does the right thing +at the right time"; "is not as unpunctual as he used to be,—he comes +early, and sits through to the end." "He has got over his old talkative +habit, too. I spoke to a friend of his about it once; and I think Ingham +took it kindly," etc., etc.</p> + +<p>This voting power of Dennis was particularly valuable at the quarterly +meetings of the Proprietors of the Naguadavick Ferry. My wife inherited +from her father some shares in that enterprise, which is not yet fully +developed, though it doubtless will become a very valuable property. The +law of Maine then forbade stockholders to appear by proxy at such +meetings. Polly disliked to go, not being, in fact, a "hens'-rights +hen," and transferred her stock to me. I, after going once, disliked it +more than she. But Dennis went to the next meeting, and liked it very +much. He said the armchairs were good, the collation good, and the free +rides to stockholders pleasant. He was a little frightened when they +first took him upon one of the ferry-boats, but after two or three +quarterly meetings he became quite brave.</p> + +<p>Thus far I never had any difficulty with him. Indeed, being of that type +which is called shiftless, he was only too happy to be told daily what +to do, and to be charged not to be forthputting or in any way original +in his discharge of that duty. He learned, however, to discriminate +between the lines of his life, and very much preferred these +stockholders' meetings and trustees' dinners and Commencement collations +to another set of occasions, from which he used to beg off most +piteously. Our excellent brother, Dr. Fillmore, had taken a notion at +this time that our Sandemanian churches needed more expression of mutual +sympathy. He insisted upon it that we were remiss. He said, that, if the +Bishop came to preach at Naguadavick, all the Episcopal clergy of the +neighborhood were present; if Dr. Pond came, all the Congregational +clergymen turned out to hear him; if Dr. Nichols, all the Unitarians; +and he thought we owed it to each other, that, whenever there was an +occasional service at a Sandemanian church, the other brethren should +all, if possible, attend. "It looked well," if nothing more. Now this +really meant that I had not been to hear one of Dr. Fillmore's lectures +on the Ethnology of Religion. He forgot that he did not hear one of my +course on the "Sandemanianism of Anselm." But I felt badly when he said +it; and afterwards I always made Dennis go to hear all the brethren +preach, when I was not preaching myself. This was what he took +exceptions to,—the only thing, as I said, which he ever did except to. +Now came the advantage of his long morning-nap, and of the green tea +with which Polly supplied the kitchen. But he would plead, so humbly, to +be let off, only from one or two! I never excepted him, however. I knew +the lectures were of value, and I thought it best he should be able to +keep the connection.</p> + +<p>Polly is more rash than I am, as the reader has observed in the outset +of this memoir. She risked Dennis one night under the eyes of her own +sex. Governor Gorges had always been very kind to us; and when he gave +his great annual party to the town, asked us. I confess I hated to go. I +was deep in the new volume of Pfeiffer's "Mystics," which Haliburton had +just sent me from Boston. "But how rude," said Polly, "not to return the +Governor's civility and Mrs. Gorges's, when they will be sure to ask why +you are away!" Still I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eve +and of Semiramis conjoined, let me off by saying, that, if I would go in +with her, and sustain the initial conversations with the Governor and +the ladies staying there, she would risk Dennis for the rest of the +evening. And that was just what we did. She took Dennis in training all +that afternoon, instructed him in fashionable conversation, cautioned +him against the temptations of the supper-table,—and at nine in the +evening he drove us all down in the carryall. I made the grand +star-<i>entrée</i> with Polly and the pretty Walton girls, who were staying +with us. We had put Dennis into a great rough top-coat, without his +glasses,—and the girls never dreamed, in the darkness, of looking at +him. He sat in the carriage, at the door, while we entered. I did the +agreeable to Mrs. Gorges, was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda,—I +complimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in the great case of +D'Aulnay <i>vs</i>. Laconia Mining Co.,—I stepped into the dressing-room for +a moment,—stepped out for another,—walked home, after a nod with +Dennis, and tying the horse to a pump;—and while I walked home, Mr. +Frederic Ingham, my double, stepped in through the library into the +Gorges's grand saloon.</p> + +<p>Oh! Polly died of laughing as she told me of it at midnight! And even +here, where I have to teach my hands to hew the beech for stakes to +fence our cave, she dies of laughing as she recalls it,—and says that +single occasion was worth all we have paid for it. Gallant Eve that she +is! She joined Dennis at the library-door, and in an instant presented +him to Dr. Ochterlong, from Baltimore, who was on a visit in town, and +was talking with her, as Dennis came in. "Mr. Ingham would like to hear +what you were telling us about your success among the German +population." And Dennis bowed and said, in spite of a scowl from Polly, +"I'm very glad you liked it." But Dr. Ochterlong did not observe, and +plunged into the tide of explanation, Dennis listening like a +prime-minister, and bowing like a mandarin,—which is, I suppose, the +same thing. Polly declared it was just like Haliburton's Latin +conversation with the Hungarian minister, of which he is very fond of +telling. "<i>Quæne sit historia Reformationis in Ungariâ</i>?" quoth +Haliburton, after some thought. And his <i>confrère</i> replied gallantly, +"<i>In seculo decimo tertio</i>," etc., etc., etc.; and from <i>decimo +tertio</i><a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8" /><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> to the nineteenth century and a half lasted till the oysters +came. So was it that before Dr. Ochterlong came to the "success," or +near it, Governor Gorges came to Dennis and asked him to hand Mrs. +Jeffries down to supper, a request which he heard with great joy.</p> + +<p>Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, gay as a lark. Auchmuty came +to her "in pity for poor Ingham," who was so bored by the stupid +pundit,—and Auchmuty could not understand why I stood it so long. But +when Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could not resist standing +near them. He was a little flustered, till the sight of the eatables and +drinkables gave him the same Mercian courage which it gave Diggory. A +little excited then, he attempted one or two of his speeches to the +Judge's lady. But little he knew how hard it was to get in even a +<i>promptu</i> there edgewise. "Very well, I thank you," said he, after the +eating elements were adjusted; "and you?" And then did not he have to +hear about the mumps, and the measles, and arnica, and belladonna, and +chamomile-flower, and dodecathem, till she changed oysters for +salad,—and then about the old practice and the new, and what her sister +said, and what her sister's friend said, and what the physician to her +sister's friend said, and then what was said by the brother of the +sister of the physician of the friend of her sister, exactly as if it +had been in Ollendorff? There was a moment's pause, as she declined +Champagne. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis again, which he +never should have said, but to one who complimented a sermon. "Oh! you +are so sharp, Mr. Ingham! No! I never drink any wine at all,—except +sometimes in summer a little currant spirits,—from our own currants, +you know. My own mother,—that is, I call her my own mother, because, +you know, I do not remember," etc., etc., etc.; till they came to the +candied orange at the end of the feast,—when Dennis, rather confused, +thought he must say something, and tried No. 4,—"I agree, in general, +with my friend the other side of the room,"—which he never should have +said but at a public meeting. But Mrs. Jeffries, who never listens +expecting to understand, caught him up instantly with, "Well, I'm sure +my husband returns the compliment; he always agrees with you,—though we +do worship with the Methodists;—but you know, Mr. Ingham," etc., etc., +etc., till the move was made up-stairs;—and as Dennis led her through +the hall, he was scarcely understood by any but Polly, as he said, +"There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time."</p> + +<p>His great resource the rest of the evening was, standing in the library, +carrying on animated conversations with one and another in much the same +way. Polly had initiated him in the mysteries of a discovery of mine, +that it is not necessary to finish your sentences in a crowd, but by a +sort of mumble, omitting sibilants and dentals. This, indeed, if your +words fail you, answers even in public extempore speech,—but better +where other talking is going on. Thus,—"We missed you at the Natural +History Society, Ingham." Ingham replies,—"I am very gligloglum, that +is, that you were mmmmm." By gradually dropping the voice, the +interlocutor is compelled to supply the answer. "Mrs. Ingham, I hope +your friend Augusta is better." Augusta has not been ill. Polly cannot +think of explaining, however, and answers,—"Thank you, Ma'am; she is +very rearason wewahwewoh," in lower and lower tones. And Mrs. +Throckmorton, who forgot the subject of which she spoke, as soon as she +asked the question, is quite satisfied. Dennis could see into the +card-room, and came to Polly to ask if he might not go and play +all-fours. But, of course, she sternly refused. At midnight they came +home delighted,—Polly, as I said, wild to tell me the story of victory; +only both the pretty Walton girls said,—"Cousin Frederic, you did not +come near me all the evening."</p> + +<p>We always called him Dennis at home, for convenience, though his real +name was Frederic Ingham, as I have explained. When the election-day +came round, however, I found that by some accident there was only one +Frederic Ingham's name on the voting-list; and, as I was quite busy that +day in writing some foreign letters to Halle, I thought I would forego +my privilege of suffrage, and stay quietly at home, telling Dennis that +he might use the record on the voting-list and vote. I gave him a +ticket, which I told him he might use, if he liked to. That was that +very sharp election in Maine which the readers of the "Atlantic" so well +remember, and it had been intimated in public that the ministers would +do well not to appear at the polls. Of course, after that, we had to +appear by self or proxy. Still, Naguadavick was not then a city, and +this standing in a double queue at town-meeting several hours to vote +was a bore of the first water; and so, when I found that there was but +one Frederic Ingham on the list, and that one of us must give up, I +staid at home and finished the letters, (which, indeed, procured for +Fothergill his coveted appointment of Professor of Astronomy at +Leavenworth,) and I gave Dennis, as we called him, the chance. Something +in the matter gave a good deal of popularity to the Frederic Ingham +name; and at the adjourned election, next week, Frederic Ingham was +chosen to the legislature. Whether this was I or Dennis, I never really +knew. My friends seemed to think it was I; but I felt, that, as Dennis +had done the popular thing, he was entitled to the honor; so I sent him +to Augusta when the time came, and he took the oaths. And a very +valuable member he made. They appointed him on the Committee on +Parishes; but I wrote a letter for him, resigning, on the ground that he +took an interest in our claim to the stumpage in the minister's +sixteenths of Gore A, next No. 7, in the 10th Range. He never made any +speeches, and always voted with the minority, which was what he was sent +to do. He made me and himself a great many good friends, some of whom I +did not afterwards recognize as quickly as Dennis did my parishioners. +On one or two occasions, when there was wood to saw at home, I kept him +at home; but I took those occasions to go to Augusta myself. Finding +myself often in his vacant seat at these times, I watched the +proceedings with a good deal of care; and once was so much excited that +I delivered my somewhat celebrated speech on the Central School-District +question, a speech of which the "State of Maine" printed some extra +copies. I believe there is no formal rule permitting strangers to speak; +but no one objected.</p> + +<p>Dennis himself, as I said, never spoke at all. But our experience this +session led me to think, that, if, by some such "general understanding" +as the reports speak of in legislation daily, every member of Congress +might leave a double to sit through those deadly sessions and answer to +roll-calls and do the legitimate party-voting, which appears stereotyped +in the regular list of Ashe, Bocock, Black, etc., we should gain +decidedly in working-power. As things stand, the saddest State prison I +ever visit is that Representatives' Chamber in Washington. If a man +leaves for an hour, twenty "correspondents" may be howling, "Where was +Mr. Pendergrast when the Oregon bill passed?" And if poor Pendergrast +stays there! Certainly, the worst use you can make of a man is to put +him in prison!</p> + +<p>I know, indeed, that public men of the highest rank have resorted to +this expedient long ago. Dumas's novel of the "Iron Mask" turns on the +brutal imprisonment of Louis the Fourteenth's double. There seems little +doubt, in our own history, that it was the real General Pierce who shed +tears when the delegate from Lawrence explained to him the sufferings of +the people there,—and only General Pierce's double who had given the +orders for the assault on that town, which was invaded the next day. My +charming friend, George Withers, has, I am almost sure, a double, who +preaches his afternoon sermons for him. This is the reason that the +theology often varies so from that of the forenoon. But that double is +almost as charming as the original. Some of the most well-defined men, +who stand out most prominently on the background of history, are in this +way stereoscopic men, who owe their distinct relief to the slight +differences between the doubles. All this I know. My present suggestion +is simply the great extension of the system, so that all public +machine-work may be done by it.</p> + +<p>But I see I loiter on my story, which is rushing to the plunge. Let me +stop an instant more, however, to recall, were it only to myself, that +charming year while all was yet well. After the double had become a +matter of course, for nearly twelve months before he undid me, what a +year it was! Full of active life, full of happy love, of the hardest +work, of the sweetest sleep, and the fulfilment of so many of the fresh +aspirations and dreams of boyhood! Dennis went to every school-committee +meeting, and sat through all those late wranglings which used to keep me +up till midnight and awake till morning. He attended all the lectures to +which foreign exiles sent me tickets begging me to come for the love of +Heaven and of Bohemia. He accepted and used all the tickets for charity +concerts which were sent to me. He appeared everywhere where it was +specially desirable that "our denomination," or "our party," or "our +class," or "our family," or "our street," or "our town," or "our +county," or "our State," should be fully represented. And I fell back to +that charming life which in boyhood one dreams of, when he supposes he +shall do his own duty and make his own sacrifices, without being tied up +with those of other people. My rusty Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, +Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, German, and English began to take +polish. Heavens! how little I had done with them while I attended to my +<i>public</i> duties! My calls on my parishioners became the friendly, +frequent, homelike sociabilities they were meant to be, instead of the +hard work of a man goaded to desperation by the sight of his lists of +arrears. And preaching! what a luxury preaching was when I had on +Sunday the whole result of an individual, personal week, from which to +speak to a people whom all that week I had been meeting as hand-to-hand +friend! I never tired on Sunday, and was in condition to leave the +sermon at home, if I chose, and preach it extempore, as all men should +do always. Indeed, I wonder, when I think that a sensible people, like +ours,—really more attached to their clergy than they were in the lost +days, when the Mathers and Nortons were noblemen,—should choose to +neutralize so much of their ministers' lives, and destroy so much of +their early training, by this undefined passion for seeing them in +public. It springs from our balancing of sects. If a spirited +Episcopalian takes an interest in the alms-house, and is put on the Poor +Board, every other denomination must have a minister there, lest the +poor-house be changed into St. Paul's Cathedral. If a Sandemanian is +chosen president of the Young Men's Library, there must be a Methodist +vice-president and a Baptist secretary. And if a Universalist +Sunday-School Convention collects five hundred delegates, the next +Congregationalist Sabbath-School Conference must be as large, "lest +'they'—whoever <i>they</i> may be—should think 'we'—whoever <i>we</i> may +be—are going down."</p> + +<p>Freed from these necessities, that happy year, I began to know my wife +by sight. We saw each other sometimes. In those long mornings, when +Dennis was in the study explaining to map-peddlers that I had eleven +maps of Jerusalem already, and to school-book agents that I would see +them hanged before I would be bribed to introduce their textbooks into +the schools,—she and I were at work together, as in those old dreamy +days,—and in these of our log-cabin again. But all this could not +last,—and at length poor Dennis, my double, over-tasked in turn, undid +me.</p> + +<p>It was thus it happened.—There is an excellent fellow,—once a +minister,—I will call him Isaacs,—who deserves well of the world till +he dies, and after,—because he once, in, a real exigency, did the right +thing, in the right way, at the right time, as no other man could do it. +In the world's great football match, the ball by chance found him +loitering on the outside of the field; he closed with it, "camped" it, +charged it home,—yes, right through the other side,—not disturbed, not +frightened by his own success,—and breathless found himself a great +man,—as the Great Delta rang applause. But he did not find himself a +rich man; and the football has never come in his way again. From that +moment to this moment he has been of no use, that one can see, at all. +Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember him +kindly; and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewhere again. +In that vague hope, he had arranged a "movement" for a general +organization of the human family into Debating-Clubs, County Societies, +State Unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all children to take +hold of the handles of their knives and forks, instead of the metal. +Children have bad habits in that way. The movement, of course, was +absurd; but we all did our best to forward, not it, but him. It came +time for the annual county-meeting on this subject to be held at +Naguadavick. Isaacs came round, good fellow! to arrange for it,—got the +town-hall, got the Governor to preside, (the saint!—he ought to have +triplet doubles provided him by law,) and then came to get me to speak. +"No," I said, "I would not speak, if ten Governors presided. I do not +believe in the enterprise. If I spoke, it should be to say children +should take hold of the prongs of the forks and the blades of the +knives. I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill." So +poor Isaacs went his way, sadly, to coax Auchmuty to speak, and +Delafield. I went out. Not long after, he came back, and told Polly that +they had promised to speak,—the Governor would speak,—and he himself +would close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotes +regarding Miss Biffin's way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis's way +of footing his fork. "Now if Mr. Ingham will only come and sit on the +platform, he need not say one word; but it will show well in the +paper,—it will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in the +movement as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians, and will be a great +favor to me." Polly, good soul! was tempted, and she promised. She knew +Mrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies,—she knew Dennis was at +home,—and she promised! Night came, and I returned. I heard her story. +I was sorry. I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, and I dared +all! I told Dennis to hold his peace, under all circumstances, and sent +him down.</p> + +<p>It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild with +excitement,—in a perfect Irish fury,—which it was long before I +understood. But I knew at once that he had undone me!</p> + +<p>What happened was this.—The audience got together, attracted by +Governor Gorges's name. There were a thousand people. Poor Gorges was +late from Augusta. They became impatient. He came in direct from the +train at last, really ignorant of the object of the meeting. He opened +it in the fewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present +who would entertain them better than he. The audience were disappointed, +but waited. The Governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, "The Honorable Mr. +Delafield will address you." Delafield had forgotten the knives and +forks, and was playing the Ruy Lopez opening at the chess-club. "The +Rev. Mr. Auchmuty will address you." Auchmuty had promised to speak +late, and was at the school-committee. "I see Dr. Stearns in the hall; +perhaps he will say a word." Dr. Stearns said he had come to listen and +not to speak. The Governor and Isaacs whispered. The Governor looked at +Dennis, who was resplendent on the platform; but Isaacs, to give him his +due, shook his head. But the look was enough. A miserable lad, ill-bred, +who had once been in Boston, thought it would sound well to call for me, +and peeped out, "Ingham!" A few more wretches cried, "Ingham! Ingham!" +Still Isaacs was firm; but the Governor, anxious, indeed, to prevent a +row, knew I would say something, and said, "Our friend Mr. Ingham is +always prepared,—and though we had not relied upon him, he will say a +word, perhaps." Applause followed, which turned Dennis's head. He rose, +fluttered, and tried No. 3: "There has been so much said, and, on the +whole, so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!" and sat +down, looking for his hat; for things seemed squally. But the people +cried, "Go on! go on!" and some applauded. Dennis, still confused, but +flattered by the applause, to which neither he nor I are used, rose +again, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you liked it!" in a +sonorous, clear delivery. My best friends stared. All the people who did +not know me personally yelled with delight at the aspect of the evening; +the Governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs thought he was undone! +Alas, it was I! A boy in the gallery cried in a loud tone, "It's all an +infernal humbug," just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, +and tried No. 4: "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of +the room." The poor Governor doubted his senses, and crossed to stop +him,—not in time, however. The same gallery-boy shouted, "How's your +mother?"—and Dennis, now completely lost, tried, as his last shot, No. +1, vainly: "Very well, thank you; and you?"</p> + +<p>I think I must have been undone already. But Dennis, like another +Lockhard, chose "to make sicker." The audience rose in a whirl of +amazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other impertinence, aimed at Dennis, +broke all restraint, and, in pure Irish, he delivered himself of an +address to the gallery, inviting any person who wished to fight to come +down and do so,—stating, that they were all dogs and cowards and the +sons of dogs and cowards,—that he would take any five of them +single-handed. "Shure, I have said all his Riverence and the Misthress +bade me say," cried he, in defiance; and, seizing the Governor's cane +from his hand, brandished it, quarterstaff fashion, above his head. He +was, indeed, got from the hall only with the greatest difficulty by the +Governor, the City Marshal, who had been called in, and the +Superintendent of my Sunday-School.</p> + +<p>The universal impression, of course, was, that the Rev. Frederic Ingham +had lost all command of himself in some of those haunts of intoxication +which for fifteen years I have been laboring to destroy. Till this +moment, indeed, that is the impression in Naguadavick. This number of +the "Atlantic" will relieve from it a hundred friends of mine who have +been sadly wounded by that notion now for years;—but I shall not be +likely ever to show my head there again.</p> + +<p>No! My double has undone me.</p> + +<p>We left town at seven the next morning. I came to No. 9, in the Third +Range, and settled on the Minister's Lot. In the new towns in Maine, the +first settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land. I am the +first settled minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina are my +parish. We raise corn enough to live on in summer. We kill bear's meat +enough to carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on my "Traces of +Sandemanianism in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries," which I hope to +persuade Phillips, Sampson, & Co. to publish next year. We are very +happy, but the world thinks we are undone.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8" /><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Which means, "In the thirteenth century," my dear little +bell-and-coral reader. You have rightly guessed that the question means, +"What is the history of the Reformation in Hungary?"</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_SINGER" id="THE_SINGER" /><span class='smcap'>The Singer.</span></h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td> + A star into our twilight fell,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Mong peasant homes in vales remote;</span><br /> + Men marvelled not till all the dell<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was waked as by a bugle-note.</span><br /> + <br /> + They wondered at the wild-eyed boy,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drank his song like draughts of wine;</span><br /> + And yet, amid their new-born joy,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">They bade him tend the herds and swine.</span><br /> + <br /> + But he knew neither swine nor herds,—<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His shepherd soul was otherwhere;</span><br /> + The flocks he tended were the birds,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stars that fill the folds of air.</span><br /> + <br /> + To sweeter song the wind would melt<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That fanned him with its perfumed wing;</span><br /> + Flowers thronged his path as if they felt<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The warm and flashing feet of Spring.</span><br /> + <br /> + The brooklet flung its ringlets wide,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And leapt to him, and kept his pace,—</span><br /> + Sang when he sang, and when he sighed,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turned up to him its starry face.</span><br /> + <br /> + Through many a dawn and noon and night,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The singing boy still kept his course;</span><br /> + For in his heart that meteor light<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still burned with all its natal force.</span><br /> + <br /> + He sang,—nor cherished thought of care,—<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As when, upon the garden-vine,</span><br /> + A blue-bird thrills the April air,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Regardless of the herds and swine.</span><br /> + <br /> + The children in their May-time plays,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The maidens in their rosy hours,</span><br /> + And matrons in their autumn days,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">All heard and flung him praise or flowers.</span><br /> + <br /> + And Age, to chimney-nooks beguiled,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Caught the sweet music's tender closes,</span><br /> + And, gazing on the embers, smiled<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As on a bed of summer roses.</span><br /> + <br /> + And many a heart, by hope forsook,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Received his song through depths of pain,</span><br /> + As the dry channels of a brook<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The freshness of a summer rain.</span><br /> + <br /> + But when he looked for house or bread,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The stewards of earth's oil and wine</span><br /> + Shook sternly the reproving head,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bade him tend the herds and swine!</span><br /> + <br /> + He strayed into the harvest plains,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'mid the sultry windrows sung,</span><br /> + Till glowing girls and swarthy swains<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Caught music from his charmed tongue,—</span><br /> + <br /> + Caught music that from heart to brain<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went thrilling with delicious measure,</span><br /> + Till toil, which late had seemed a pain,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Became a sweet Arcadian pleasure.</span><br /> + <br /> + The farmer, at the day's decline,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sat listening till the eve was late;</span><br /> + Then, offering neither bread nor wine,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arose, and barred the outer gate,—</span><br /> + <br /> + And said, "Would you have where to sleep<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">On wholesome straw, good brother mine,</span><br /> + You need but plow, and sow, and reap,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And daily tend the herds and swine."</span><br /> + <br /> + The poet's locks shook out reply;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">He turned him gayly down the rill;</span><br /> + Yet left a light which shall not die,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sunshine on the farmer's sill.</span><br /> + <br /> + He strewed the vale with flowers of song;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">He filled the homes with lighter grace,</span><br /> + Which round those hearth-stones lingered long,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And still makes beautiful the place.</span><br /> + <br /> + The country, hamlet, and the town<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grew wiser, better, for his songs;—</span><br /> + The roaring city could not drown<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The voice that to the world belongs.</span><br /> + <br /> + To beds of pain, to rooms of death,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The soft and solemn music stole,</span><br /> + And soothed the dying with its breath,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And passed into the mourner's soul.</span><br /> + <br /> + And yet what was the poet's meed?<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such, Bard of Alloway, was thine!</span><br /> + The soul that sings, the heart must bleed,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or tend the common herds and swine.</span><br /> + <br /> + The nation heard his patriot lays,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And rung them, like an anthem, round,</span><br /> + Till Freedom waved her branch of bays,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherewith the world shall yet be crowned.</span><br /> + <br /> + His war-songs fired the battle-host,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His mottoes on their banners burned;</span><br /> + And when the foe had fled the coast,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wild with his songs the troops returned.</span><br /> + <br /> + Then at the feast's triumphal board,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His thrilling music cheered the wine;—</span><br /> + But when the singer asked reward,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">They pointed to the herds and swine.</span><br /> + <br /> + "What! he a bard? Then bid him go<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And beg,—it is the poet's trade!</span><br /> + Dan Homer was the first to show<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rank for which the bards were made!</span><br /> + <br /> + "A living bard! What's he to us?<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">A bard, to live, must first be dead!</span><br /> + And when he dies, we may discuss<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">To whom belongs the poet's head!"</span><br /> + <br /> + 'Neath suns that burn, through storms that drench,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">He went, an outcast from his birth,</span><br /> + Still singing,—for they could not quench<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fire that was not born of earth.</span><br /> + <br /> + At last, behind cold prison-bars,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">By colder natures unforgiven,</span><br /> + His frail dust starved! but 'mid the stars<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His spirit found its native heaven.</span><br /> + <br /> + Now, when a meteor-spark, forlorn,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Descends upon its fiery wing,</span><br /> + I sigh to think a soul is born,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perchance, to suffer and to sing:—</span><br /> + <br /> + Its own heart a consuming pyre<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of flame, to brighten and refine:—</span><br /> + A singer, in the starry choir,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That will not tend the herds and swine.</span><br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_PROFESSOR" id="THE_PROFESSOR" /><span class='smcap'>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table.</span></h3> + +<h4><span class='smcap'>What He Said, What He Heard, and What He Saw.</span></h4> + +<p>One of our boarders—perhaps more than one was concerned in it—sent in +some questions to me, the other day, which, trivial as some of them are, +I felt bound to answer.</p> + +<p>1.—Whether a lady was ever known to write a letter covering only a +single page?</p> + +<p>To this I answered, that there was a case on record where a lady had but +half a sheet of paper and no envelope; and being obliged to send through +the post-office, she <i>covered</i> only one side of the paper (crosswise, +lengthwise, and diagonally).</p> + +<p>2.—What constitutes a man a gentleman?</p> + +<p>To this I gave several answers, adapted to particular classes of +questions.</p> + +<ol class='loweralpha'> +<li>Not trying to be a gentleman.</li> +<li>Self-respect underlying courtesy.</li> +<li>Knowledge and observance of the <i>fitness of things</i> in social +intercourse.</li> +<li>£. <i>s.d.</i> (as many suppose.)</li> +</ol> + +<p>3.—Whether face or figure is most attractive in the female sex?</p> + +<p>Answered in the following epigram, by a young man about town:—</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +Quoth Tom, "Though fair her features be,<br /> +it is her figure pleases me."<br /> +"What may her figure be?" I cried.<br /> +"<i>One hundred thousand</i>!" he replied.<br /> +</p> + +<p>When this was read to the boarders, the young man John said he should +like a chance to "step up" to a figger of that kind, if the girl was one +of the right sort.</p> + +<p>The landlady said them that merried for money didn't deserve the +blessin' of a good wife. Money was a great thing when them that had it +made a good use of it. She had seen better days herself, and knew what +it was never to want for anything. One of her cousins merried a very +rich old gentleman, and she had heerd that he said he lived ten year +longer than if he'd staid by himself without anybody to take care of +him. There was nothin' like a wife for nussin' sick folks and them that +couldn't take care of themselves.</p> + +<p>The young man John got off a little wink, and pointed slyly with his +thumb in the direction of our diminutive friend, for whom he seemed to +think this speech was intended.</p> + +<p>If it was meant for him, he didn't appear to know that it was. Indeed, +he seems somewhat listless of late, except when the conversation falls +upon one of those larger topics that specially interest him, and then he +grows excited, speaks loud and fast, sometimes almost savagely,—and, I +have noticed once or twice, presses his left hand to his right side, as +if there were something that ached, or weighed, or throbbed in that +region.</p> + +<p>While he speaks in this way, the general conversation is interrupted, +and we all listen to him. Iris looks steadily in his face, and then he +will turn as if magnetized and meet the amber eyes with his own +melancholy gaze. I do believe that they have some kind of understanding +together, that they meet elsewhere than at our table, and that there is +a mystery, which is going to break upon us all of a sudden, involving +the relations of these two persons. From the very first, they have taken +to each other. The one thing they have in common is the heroic will. In +him, it shows itself in thinking his way straightforward, in doing +battle for "free trade and no right of search" on the high seas of +religious controversy, and especially in fighting the battles of his +crooked old city. In her, it is standing up for her little friend with +the most queenly disregard of the code of boarding-house etiquette. +People may say or look what they like,—she will have her way about this +sentiment of hers.</p> + +<p>The poor relation is in a dreadful fidget whenever the little gentleman +says anything that interferes with her own infallibility. She seems to +think Faith must go with her face tied up, as if she had the +toothache,—and that if she opens her mouth to the quarter the wind +blows from, she will catch her "death o' cold."</p> + +<p>The landlady herself came to him one day, as I have found out, and tried +to persuade him to hold his tongue.—The boarders was gettin' +uneasy,—she said,—and some of 'em would go, she mistrusted, if he +talked any more about things that belonged to the ministers to settle. +She was a poor woman, that had known better days, but all her livin' +depended on her boarders, and she was sure there wasn't any of 'em she +set so much by as she did by him; but there was them that never liked to +hear about such things, except on Sundays.</p> + +<p>The little gentleman looked very smiling at the landlady, who smiled +even more cordially in return, and adjusted her cap-ribbon with an +unconscious movement,—a reminiscence of the long-past pairing-time, +when she had smoothed her locks and softened her voice, and won her mate +by these and other bird-like graces.—My dear Madam,—he said,—I will +remember your interests, and speak only of matters to which I am totally +indifferent.—I don't doubt he meant this; but a day or two after, +something stirred him up, and I heard his voice uttering itself aloud, +thus:—</p> + +<p>—It must be done, Sir!—he was saying,—it must be done! Our religion +has been Judaized, it has been Romanized, it has been Orientalized, it +has been Anglicized, and the time is at hand when it must be +AMERICANIZED! Now, Sir, you see what Americanizing is in politics;—it +means that a man shall have a vote because he is a man,—and shall vote +for whom he pleases, without his neighbor's interference. If he chooses +to vote for the Devil, that is his lookout;—perhaps he thinks the Devil +is better than the other candidates; and I don't doubt he's often right, +Sir! Just so a man's soul has a vote in the spiritual community; and it +doesn't do, Sir, or it won't do long, to call him "schismatic" and +"heretic" and those other wicked names that the old murderous +Inquisitors have left us to help along "peace and good-will to men"!</p> + +<p>As long as you could catch a man and drop him into an <i>oubliette</i>, or +pull him out a few inches longer by machinery, or put a hot iron through +his tongue, or make him climb up a ladder and sit on a board at the top +of a stake so that he should be slowly broiled by the fire kindled round +it, there was some sense in these words; they led to something. But +since we have done with those tools, we had better give up those words. +I should like to see a Yankee advertisement like this!—(the little +gentleman laughed fiercely as he uttered the words,—)</p> + +<p>—Patent thumb-screws, warranted to crush the bone in three turns.</p> + +<p>—The cast-iron boot, with wedge and mallet,—only five dollars!</p> + +<p>—The celebrated extension-rack, warranted to stretch a man six inches +in twenty minutes,—money returned, if it proves unsatisfactory.</p> + +<p>I should like to see such an advertisement, I say, Sir! Now, what's the +use of using the words that belonged with the thumb-screws, and the +Blessed Virgin with the knives under her petticoats and sleeves and +bodice, and the <i>dry pan and gradual fire</i>, if we can't have the things +themselves, Sir? What's the use of <i>painting</i> the fire round a poor +fellow, when you think it won't do to kindle one under him,—as they did +at Valencia or Valladolid, or wherever it was?</p> + +<p>—What story is that?—I said.</p> + +<p>Why,—he answered,—at the last <i>auto-da-fé</i>, in 1824 or '5, or +somewhere there,—it's a traveller's story, but a mighty knowing +traveller he is,—they had a "heretic" to use up according to the +statutes provided for the crime of private opinion. They couldn't quite +make up their minds to burn him, so they only <i>hung</i> him in a hogshead +painted all over with flames!</p> + +<p>No, Sir! when a man calls you names because you go to the ballot-box and +vote for your candidate, or because you say this or that is your +opinion, he forgets in which half of the world he was born, Sir! It +won't be long, Sir, before we have Americanized religion as we have +Americanized government; and then, Sir, every soul God sends into the +world will be good in the face of all men for just so much of His +"inspiration" as "giveth him understanding"!—None of my words, Sir! +none of my words!</p> + +<p>—If Iris does not love this little gentleman, what does love look like +when one sees it? She follows him with her eyes, she leans over toward +him when he speaks, her face changes with the changes of his speech, so +that one might think it was with her as with Christabel,—</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +That all her features were resigned<br /> +To this sole image in her mind.<br /> +</p> + +<p>But she never looks at him with such intensity of devotion as when he +says anything about the soul and the soul's atmosphere, religion.</p> + +<p>Women are twice as religious as men;—all the world knows that. Whether +they are any <i>better</i>, in the eyes of Absolute Justice, might be +questioned; for the additional religious element supplied by sex hardly +seems to be a matter of praise or blame. But in all common aspects they +are so much above us that we get most of our religion from them,—from +their teachings, from their example,—above all, from their pure +affections.</p> + +<p>Now this poor little Iris had been talked to strangely in her childhood. +Especially she had been told that she hated all good things,—which +every sensible parent knows well enough is not true of a great many +children, to say the least. I have sometimes questioned whether many +libels on human nature had not been a natural consequence of the +celibacy of the clergy, which was enforced for so long a period.</p> + +<p>The child had met this and some other equally encouraging statements as +to her spiritual conditions, early in life, and fought the battle of +spiritual independence prematurely, as many children do. If all she did +was hateful to God, what was the meaning of the approving or else the +disapproving conscience, when she had done "right" or "wrong"? No +"shoulder-striker" hits out straighter than a child with its logic. Why, +I can remember lying in my bed in the nursery and settling questions +which all that I have heard since and got out of books has never been +able to raise again. If a child does not assert itself in this way in +good season, it becomes just what its parents or teachers were, and is +no better than a plaster image.—How old was I at the time? I suppose +about 5823 years old,—that is, counting from Archbishop Usher's date of +the Creation, and adding the life of the race, whose accumulated +intelligence is a part of my inheritance, to my own. A good deal older +than Plato, you see, and much more experienced than my Lord Bacon and +most of the world's teachers.—Old books are books of the world's youth, +and new books are fruits of its age. How many of all these old folios +round me are like so many old cupels! The gold has passed out of them +long ago, but their pores are full of the dross with which it was +mingled.</p> + +<p>And so Iris—having thrown off that first lasso, which not only fetters, +but <i>chokes</i> those whom it can hold, so that they give themselves up +trembling and breathless to the great soul-subduer, who has them by the +windpipe—had settled a brief creed for herself, in which love of the +neighbor, whom we have seen, was the first article, and love of the +Creator, whom we have not seen, grew out of this as its natural +development, being necessarily second in order of time to the first +unselfish emotions which we feel for the fellow-creatures who surround +us in our early years.</p> + +<p>The child must have some place to worship. What would a young girl be +who never mingled her voice with the songs and prayers that rose all +around her with every returning day of rest? And Iris was free to +choose. Sometimes one and sometimes another would offer to carry her to +this or that place of worship; and when the doors were hospitably +opened, she would often go meekly in by herself. It was a curious fact, +that two churches as remote from each other in doctrine as could well be +divided her affections.</p> + +<p>The Church of Saint Polycarp had very much the look of a Roman Catholic +chapel. I do not wish to run the risk of giving names to the +ecclesiastical furniture which gave it such a Romish aspect; but there +were pictures, and inscriptions in antiquated characters, and there were +reading-stands, and flowers on the altar, and other elegant +arrangements. Then there were boys to sing alternately in choirs +responsive to each other, and there was much bowing, with very loud +responding, and a long service and a short sermon, and a bag, such as +Judas used to hold in the old pictures, was carried round to receive +contributions. Everything was done not only "decently and in order," +but, perhaps one might say, with a certain air of magnifying their +office on the part of the dignified clergymen, often two or three in +number. The music and the free welcome were grateful to Iris, and she +forgot her prejudices at the door of the chapel. For this was a church +with open doors, with seats for all classes and all colors alike,—a +church of zealous worshippers after their faith, of charitable and +serviceable men and women, one that took care of its children and never +forgot its poor, and whose people were much more occupied in looking out +for their own souls than in attacking the faith of their neighbors. In +its mode of worship there was a union of two qualities,—the taste and +refinement, which the educated require just as much in their churches as +else where, and the air of stateliness, almost of pomp, which impresses +the common worshipper, and is often not without its effect upon those +who think they hold outward forms as of little value. Under the +half-Romish aspect of the Church of Saint Polycarp, the young girl found +a devout and loving and singularly cheerful religious spirit. The +artistic sense, which betrayed itself in the dramatic proprieties of its +ritual, harmonized with her taste. The mingled murmur of the loud +responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so simple, yet so fervent, almost +as if every tenth heartbeat, instead of its dull <i>tic-tac</i>, articulated +itself as "Good Lord, deliver us!"—the sweet alternation of the two +choirs, as their holy song floated from side to side,—the keen young +voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that passes from one grove +to another, carrying its music with it back and forward,—why should she +not love these gracious outward signs of those inner harmonies which +none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of her +fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint +Polycarp?</p> + +<p>The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had +introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of +our boarders as were not otherwise provided for. I saw them looking over +the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two +such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety +for a great while. But they seemed to mind nothing but their +prayer-book. By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.—I don't believe +she will;—so awkward, you know;—besides, she only came by invitation. +There she is, with her hand in her pocket, though,—and sure enough, her +little bit of silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath. God bless +her! she hasn't much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, +and that is all Heaven asks.—That was the first time I noticed these +young people together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming +propriety,—in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with +them, whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good +behavior. A day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had +left his seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that +of Iris, so that they have been as far removed from each other as they +could be at the table. His new seat is three or four places farther down +the table. Of course I made a romance out of this, at once. So stupid +not to see it! How could it be otherwise?—Did you speak, Madam? I beg +your pardon. (To my lady-reader.)</p> + +<p>I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl +treats her little deformed neighbor. If he were in the way of going to +church, I know she would follow him. But his worship, if any, is not +with the throng of men and women and staring children.</p> + +<p>I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer. I should +go for various reasons, if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to +find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can +accept all their creeds or not. One place of worship comes nearer than +the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our +young girl.</p> + +<p>The Church of the Galileans, as it is called, is even humbler in outside +pretensions than the Church of Saint Polycarp. Like that, it is open to +all comers. The stranger who approaches it looks down a quiet street and +sees the plainest of chapels,—a kind of wooden tent, that owes whatever +grace it has to its pointed windows and the high, sharp roof,—traces, +both, of that upward movement of ecclesiastical architecture which +soared aloft in cathedral-spires, shooting into the sky as the spike of +a flowering aloe from the cluster of broad, sharp-wedged leaves below. +This suggestion of mediæval symbolism, aided by a minute turret in which +a hand-bell might have hung and found just room enough to turn over, was +all of outward show the small edifice could boast. Within there was very +little that pretended to be attractive. A small organ at one side, and a +plain pulpit, showed that the building was a church; but it was a church +reduced to its simplest expression.</p> + +<p>Yet when the great and wise monarch of the East sat upon his throne, in +all the golden blaze of the spoils of Ophir and the freights of the navy +of Tarshish, his glory was not like that of this simple chapel in its +Sunday garniture. For the lilies of the field, in their season, and the +fairest flowers of the year, in due succession, were clustered every +Sunday morning over the preacher's desk. Slight, thin-tissued blossoms +of pink and blue and virgin white in early spring, then the +full-breasted and deep-hearted roses of summer, then the velvet-robed +crimson and yellow flowers of autumn, and in the winter delicate exotics +that grew under skies of glass in the false summers of our crystal +palaces without knowing that it was the dreadful winter of New England +which was rattling the doors and frosting the panes,—the whole year +told its history of life and growth and beauty from that simple desk. +There was always at least one good sermon,—this floral homily. There +was at least one good prayer,—that brief space when all were silent, +after the manner of the Friends at their devotions.</p> + +<p>Here, too, Iris found an atmosphere of peace and love. The same gentle, +thoughtful faces, the same cheerful but reverential spirit, the same +quiet, the same life of active benevolence. But in all else how +different from the Church of Saint Polycarp! No clerical costume, no +ceremonial forms, no carefully trained choirs. A liturgy they have, to +be sure, which does not scruple to borrow from the time-honored manuals +of devotion, but also does not hesitate to change its expressions to its +own liking.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the good people seem a little easy with each other;—they are +apt to nod cheerfully, and have even been known to whisper before the +minister came in. But it is a relief to get rid of that old +Sunday—no,—<i>Sabbath</i> face, which suggests the idea that the first day +of the week is commemorative of some most mournful event. The truth is, +these people meet very much as a family does for its devotions, not +putting off their humanity in the least, considering it on the whole +quite a cheerful matter to come together for prayer and song and good +counsel from kind and wise lips. And if they are freer in their demeanor +than some very precise congregations, they have not the air of a worldly +set of people. Clearly they have <i>not</i> come to advertise their tailors +and milliners, nor for the sake of exchanging criticisms on the literary +character of the sermon they may hear. There is no restlessness and no +restraint among this quiet, cheerful people. One thing that keeps them +calm and happy during the season so evidently trying to many +congregations is, that they join very generally in the singing. In this +way they get rid of that accumulated nervous force which escapes in all +sorts of fidgety movements, so that a minister trying to keep his +congregation still reminds one of a boy with his hand over the nose of a +pump which another boy is working,—this spirting impatience of the +people is so like the jets that find their way through his fingers, and +the grand rush out at the final Amen! has such a wonderful likeness to +the gush that takes place when the boy pulls his hand away, with such +immense relief, as it seems, to both the pump and the officiating +youngster.</p> + +<p>How sweet is this blending of all voices and all hearts in one common +song of praise! Some will sing a little loud, perhaps,—and now and then +an impatient chorister will get a syllable or two in advance, or an +enchanted singer so lose all thought of time and place in the luxury of +a closing cadence that he holds on to the last semibreve upon his +private responsibility; but how much more of the spirit of the old +Psalmist in the music of these imperfectly trained voices than in the +academic niceties of the paid performers who take our musical worship +out of our hands!</p> + +<p>I am of the opinion that the creed of the Church of the Galileans is not +quite so precisely laid down as that of the Church of Saint Polycarp. +Yet I suspect, if one of the good people from each of those churches had +met over the bed of a suffering fellow-creature, or for the promotion of +any charitable object, they would have found they had more in common +than all the special beliefs or want of beliefs that separated them +would amount to. There are always many who believe that the fruits of a +tree afford a better test of its condition than a statement of the +composts with which it is dressed,—though the last has its meaning and +importance, no doubt.</p> + +<p>Between these two churches, then, our young Iris divides her affections. +But I doubt if she listens to the preacher at either with more devotion +than she does to her little neighbor when he talks of these matters.</p> + +<p>What does he believe? In the first place, there is some deep-rooted +disquiet lying at the bottom of his soul, which makes him very bitter +against all kinds of usurpation over the right of private judgment. Over +this seems to lie a certain tenderness for humanity in general, bred out +of life-long trial, I should say, but sharply streaked with fiery lines +of wrath at various individual acts of wrong, especially if they come in +an ecclesiastical shape, and recall to him the days when his mother's +great-grandmother was strangled on Witch Hill, with a text from the Old +Testament for her halter. With all this, he has a boundless belief in +the future of this experimental hemisphere, and especially in the +destiny of the free thought of its northeastern metropolis.</p> + +<p>—A man can see further, Sir,—he said one day,—from the top of Boston +State-House, and see more that is worth seeing, than from all the +pyramids and turrets and steeples in all the places in the world! No +smoke, Sir; no fog, Sir; and a clean sweep from the Outer Light and the +sea beyond it to the New Hampshire mountains! Yes, Sir,—and there are +great truths that are higher than mountains and broader than seas, that +people are looking for from the tops of these hills of ours,—such as +the world never saw, though it might have seen them at Jerusalem, if its +eyes had been open!—Where do they have most crazy people? Tell me that, +Sir!</p> + +<p>I answered, that I had heard it said there were more in New England than +in most countries, perhaps more than in any part of the world.</p> + +<p>Very good. Sir,—he answered.—When have there been most people killed +and wounded in the course of this century?</p> + +<p>During the wars of the French Empire, no doubt,—I said.</p> + +<p>That's it! that's it!—said the little gentleman;—where the battle of +intelligence is fought, there are most minds bruised and broken! We're +battling for a faith here, Sir.</p> + +<p>The divinity-student remarked, that it was rather late in the world's +history for men to be looking out for a new faith.</p> + +<p>I didn't say a new faith,—said the little gentleman;—old or new, it +can't help being different here in this American mind of ours from +anything that ever was before; the <i>people</i> are new, Sir, and that makes +the difference. One load of corn goes to the sty, and makes the fat of +swine,—another goes to the farm-house, and becomes the muscle that +clothes the right arms of heroes. It isn't where a pawn stands on the +board that makes the difference, but what the game round it is when it +is on this or that square.</p> + +<p>Can any man look round and see what Christian countries are now doing, +and how they are governed, and what is the general condition of society, +without seeing that Christianity is the flag under which the world +sails, and not the rudder that steers its course? No, Sir! There was a +great raft built about two thousand years ago,—call it an ark, +rather,—the world's great ark! big enough to hold all mankind, and made +to be launched right out into the open waves of life,—and here it has +been lying, one end on the shore and one end bobbing up and down in the +water, men fighting all the time as to who should be captain and who +should have the state-rooms, and throwing each other over the side +because they could not agree about the points of compass, but the great +vessel never gelling afloat with its freight of nations and their +rulers;—and now, Sir, there is and has been for this long time a fleet +of "heretic" lighters sailing out of Boston Bay, and they have been +saying, and they say now, and they mean to keep saying, "Pump out your +bilge-water, shovel over your loads of idle ballast, get out your old +rotten cargo, and we will carry it out into deep waters and sink it +where it will never be seen again; so shall the ark of the world's hope +float on the ocean, instead of sticking in the dock-mud where it is +lying!"</p> + +<p>It's a slow business, this of getting the ark launched. The Jordan +wasn't deep enough, and the Tiber wasn't deep enough, and the Rhone +wasn't deep enough, and the Thames wasn't deep enough,—and perhaps the +Charles isn't deep enough; but I don't feel sure of that, Sir, and I +love to hear the workmen knocking at the old blocks of tradition and +making the ways smooth with the oil of the Good Samaritan. I don't know, +Sir,—but I do think she stirs a little,—I do believe she slides;—and +when I think of what a work that is for the dear old three-breasted +mother of American liberty, I would not take all the glory of all the +greatest cities in the world for my birthright in the soil of little +Boston!</p> + +<p>—Some of us could not help smiling at this burst of local patriotism, +especially when it finished with the last two words.</p> + +<p>And Iris smiled, too. But it was the radiant smile of pleasure which +always lights up her face when her little neighbor gets excited on the +great topics of progress in freedom and religion, and especially on the +part which, as he pleases himself with believing, his own city is to +take in that consummation of human development to which he looks +forward.</p> + +<p>Presently she looked into his face with a changed expression,—the +anxiety of a mother that sees her child suffering.</p> + +<p>You are not well,—she said.</p> + +<p>I am never well,—he answered.—His eyes fell mechanically on the +death's-head ring he wore on his right hand. She took his hand as if it +had been a baby's, and turned the grim device so that it should be out +of sight. One slight, sad, slow movement of the head seemed to say, "The +death-symbol is still there!"</p> + +<p>A very odd personage, to be sure! Seems to know what is going on,—reads +books, old and new,—has many recent publications sent him, they tell +me,—but, what is more curious, keeps up with the every-day affairs of +the world, too. Whether he hears everything that is said with +preternatural acuteness, or whether some confidential friend visits him +in a quiet way, is more than I can tell. I can make nothing more of the +noises I hear in his room than my old conjectures. The movements I +mention are less frequent, but I often hear the plaintive cry,—I +observe that it is rarely laughing of late;—I never have detected one +articulate word, but I never heard such tones from anything but a human +voice.</p> + +<p>There has been, of late, a deference approaching to tenderness, on the +part of the boarders generally, so far as he is concerned. This is +doubtless owing to the air of suffering which seems to have saddened his +look of late. Either some passion is gnawing at him inwardly, or some +hidden disease is at work upon him.</p> + +<p>—What's the matter with Little Boston?—said the young man John to me +one day.—There a'n't much of him, anyhow; but 't seems to me he looks +peakeder than ever. The old woman says he's in a bad way, 'n' wants a +nuss to take care of him. Them nusses that take care of old rich folks +marry 'em sometimes,—'n' they don't commonly live a great while after +that. <i>No, Sir!</i> I don't see what he wants to die for, after he's taken +so much trouble to live in such poor accommodations as that crooked body +of his. I should like to know how his soul crawled into it, 'n' how it's +goin' to get out. What business has he to die, I should like to know? +Let Ma'am Allen (the gentleman with the <i>diamond</i>) die, if he likes, and +be (this is a family-magazine); but we a'n't goin' to have <i>him</i> dyin'. +Not by a great sight. Can't do without him anyhow. A'n't it fun to hear +him blow off his steam?</p> + +<p>I believe the young fellow would take it as a personal insult, if the +little gentleman should show any symptoms of quitting our table for a +better world.</p> + +<p>—In the mean time, what with going to church in company with our young +lady, and taking every chance I could get to talk with her, I have found +myself becoming, I will not say intimate, but well acquainted with Miss +Iris. There is a certain frankness and directness about her that perhaps +belong to her artist nature. For, you see, the one thing that marks the +true artist is a clear perception and a firm, bold hand, in distinction +from that imperfect mental vision and uncertain touch which give us the +feeble pictures and the lumpy statues of the mere artisans on canvas or +in stone. A true artist, therefore, can hardly fail to have a sharp, +well-defined character. Besides this, many young girls have a strange +audacity blended with their instinctive delicacy. Even in physical +daring many of them are a match for boys; whereas you will find few +among mature women, and especially if they are mothers, who do not +confess, and not unfrequently proclaim, their timidity. One of these +young girls, as many of us hereabouts remember, climbed to the top of a +jagged, slippery rock lying out in the waves,—an ugly height to get up, +and a worse one to get down, even for a bold young fellow of sixteen. +Another was in the way of climbing tall trees for crows' nests,—and +crows generally know about how far boys can "shin up," and set their +household establishments above high-water-mark. Still another of these +young ladies I saw for the first time in an open boat, tossing on the +ocean ground-swell, a mile or two from shore, off a lonely island. She +lost all her daring, after she had some girls of her own to look out +for.</p> + +<p>Many blondes are very gentle, yielding in character, impressible, +unelastic. But the <i>positive</i> blondes, with the golden tint running +through them, are often full of character. They come from those +deep-bosomed German women that Tacitus portrayed in such strong colors. +The <i>negative</i> blondes, or those women whose tints have faded out as +their line of descent has become impoverished, are of various blood, and +in them the soul has often become pale with that blanching of the hair +and loss of color in the eyes which makes them approach the character of +Albinesses.</p> + +<p>I see in this young girl that union of strength and sensibility which, +when directed and impelled by the strong instinct so apt to accompany +this combination of active and passive capacity, we call <i>genius</i>. She +is not an accomplished artist, certainly, as yet; but there is always an +air in every careless figure she draws, as it were of upward +aspiration,—the <i>elan</i> of John of Bologna's Mercury,—a lift to them, +as if they had on winged sandals, like the herald of the gods. I hear +her singing sometimes; and though she evidently is not trained, yet is +there a wild sweetness in her fitful and sometimes fantastic +melodies,—such as can come only from the inspiration of the +moment,—strangely enough, reminding me of those long passages I have +heard from my little neighbor's room, yet of different tone, and by no +means to be mistaken for those weird harmonies.</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend to deny that I am interested in the girl. Alone, +unprotected, as I have seen so many young girls left in boarding-houses, +the centre of all the men's eyes that surround the table, watched with +jealous sharpness by every woman, most of all by that poor relation of +our landlady, who belongs to the class of women that like to catch +others in mischief when they are too mature for indiscretions, (as one +sees old rogues turn to thief-catchers,) one of Nature's <i>gendarmerie</i>, +clad in a complete suit of wrinkles, the cheapest coat-of-mail against +the shafts of the great little enemy,—so surrounded, Iris spans this +commonplace household-life of ours with her arch of beauty, as the +rainbow, whose name she borrows, looks down on a dreary pasture with its +feeding flocks and herds of indifferent animals.</p> + +<p>These young girls that live in boarding-houses can do pretty much as +they will. The female <i>gendarmes</i> are off guard occasionally. The +sitting-room has its solitary moments, when any two boarders who wish to +meet may come together accidentally, (<i>accidentally</i>, I said, Madam, and +I had not the slightest intention of Italicizing the word,) and discuss +the social or political questions of the day, or any other subject that +may prove interesting. Many charming conversations take place at the +foot of the stairs, or while one of the parties is holding the latch of +a door,—in the shadow of porticos, and especially on those outside +balconies which some of our Southern neighbors call "stoops," the most +charming places in the world when the moon is just right and the roses +and honeysuckles are in full blow,—as we used to think in eighteen +hundred and never mention it.</p> + +<p>On such a balcony or "stoop," one evening, I walked with Iris. We were +on pretty good terms now, and I had coaxed her arm under mine,—my left +arm, of course. That leaves one's right arm free to defend the lovely +creature, if the rival—odious wretch!—attempt to ravish her from your +side. Likewise if one's heart should happen to beat a little, its mute +language will not be without its meaning, as you will perceive when the +arm you hold begins to tremble,—a circumstance like to occur, if you +happen to be a good-looking young fellow, and you two have the "stoop" +to yourselves.</p> + +<p>We had it to ourselves that evening. The Koh-i-noor, as we called him, +was in a corner with our landlady's daughter. The young fellow John was +smoking out in the yard. The <i>gendarme</i> was afraid of the evening air, +and kept inside. The young Marylander came to the door, looked out and +saw us walking together, gave his hat a pull over his forehead and +stalked off. I felt a slight spasm, as it were, in the arm I held, and +saw the girl's head turn over her shoulder for a second. What a kind +creature this is! She has no special interest in this youth, but she +does not like to see a young fellow going off because he feels as if he +were not wanted.</p> + +<p>She had her locked drawing-book under her arm.—Let me take it,—I said.</p> + +<p>She gave it to me to carry.</p> + +<p>This is full of caricatures of all of us, I am sure,—said I.</p> + +<p>She laughed, and said,—No,—not all of you.</p> + +<p>I was there, of course?</p> + +<p>Why, no,—she had never taken so much pains with me.</p> + +<p>Then she would let me see the inside of it?</p> + +<p>She would think of it.</p> + +<p>Just as we parted, she took a little key from her pocket and handed it +to me.—This unlocks my naughty book,—she said,—you shall see it. I am +not afraid of you.</p> + +<p>I don't know whether the last words exactly pleased me. At any rate, I +took the book and hurried with it to my room. I opened it, and saw, in a +few glances, that I held the heart of Iris in my hand.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>—I have no verses for you this month, except these few lines suggested +by the season.</p> + + +<h4><span class='smcap'>Midsummer.</span></h4> + +<div class='center'> +<table border='0' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' summary=''> + <tr> + <td> + Here! sweep these foolish leaves away,—<br /> + I will not crush my brains to-day!—<br /> + Look! are the southern curtains drawn?<br /> + Fetch me a fan, and so begone!<br /> + <br /> + Not that,—the palm-tree's rustling leaf<br /> + Brought from a parching coral-reef!<br /> + Its breath is heated;—I would swing<br /> + The broad gray plumes,—the eagle's wing.<br /> + <br /> + I hate these roses' feverish blood!—<br /> + Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud,<br /> + A long-stemmed lily from the lake,<br /> + Cold as a coiling water-snake.<br /> + <br /> + Rain me sweet odors on the air,<br /> + And wheel me up my Indian chair,<br /> + And spread some book not overwise<br /> + Flat out before my sleepy eyes.<br /> + <br /> + —Who knows it not,—this dead recoil<br /> + Of weary fibres stretched with toil,—<br /> + The pulse that flutters faint and low<br /> + When Summer's seething breezes blow?<br /> + <br /> + O Nature! bare thy loving breast<br /> + And give thy child one hour of rest,—<br /> + One little hour to lie unseen<br /> + Beneath thy scarf of leafy green!<br /> + <br /> + So, curtained by a singing pine,<br /> + Its murmuring voice shall blend with mine,<br /> + Till, lost in dreams, my faltering lay<br /> + In sweeter music dies away.<br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="REVIEWS" id="REVIEWS" /><span class='smcap'>Reviews and Literary Notices.</span></h3> + +<p><i>Life and Liberty in America:</i> or Sketches of a Tour in the United +States and Canada in 1857-8. By <span class='smcap'>Charles Mackay, LL.D., F.S.A.</span> London: +Smith, Elder, & Co. 1859.</p> + +<p>"Let him come back and write a book about the 'Merrikins as'll pay all +his expenses and more, if he blows 'em up enough," urged Mr. Anthony +Weller, by way of climax to his scheme for Mr. Pickwick's liberation from +the Fleet Prison. Whether Mr. Dickens, in putting forth this suggestion +through one of his favorite characters, had or had not a view to +subsequent operations of his own, has long been a sore question among +his admirers on this side of the Atlantic. We believe that he had not; +and that such "blowing-up" as he imparted to the people of this country +was wholly unpremeditated and spontaneous, besides being of so harmless +a nature that the patriot of most uneasy virtue need have been nowise +distressed in consequence. The language can show few more amusing books +than the "American Notes," especially the serious parts thereof.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dickens had plenty of objects besides his future self at which to +aim his satirical shot. At the time he discharged it, the literary +market of England was overstocked with books on America, the authors of +which had apparently tasked the best energies of their lungs in +incessant "blowings-up" of all that came within range of their breath. +Up to that period, though viewing America from various stand-points, +they had seldom failed to recognize this one essential element of +success. Since then, however, attempts have been made to satisfy the +prejudices of all sides,—in which the bitter and the sweet have been +deftly mingled, with the obvious belief that persons aggrieved, while +suffering from the authors' stings, would derive comfort from the +consciousness of accompanying honey. These hopes generally proved +fallacious, and the authors, falling to the ground between the two +stools of American sensitiveness and British asperity, were regarded in +the light of stern warnings by many of their successors, who straightway +became pitiless.</p> + +<p>The critical works on America by English writers, published during the +last fifty years, may be numbered by hundreds. Of these, nearly half +have at different times been reprinted in this country. Most of them are +now unknown, having passed to that oblivion of letters from whose bourn +no short-sighted and narrow-minded traveller ever ought to return. The +annual harvest began to appear about a half-century ago, when little +more than descriptions of scenery and geographical statistics were +ventured upon,—although one quaint explorer, John Lambert, vouchsafed, +in 1810, some sketches of society, from which we learn, among other +interesting facts, that a species of Bloomerism pervaded New York, and +flourished on Broadway, even at that early day. Our visitors very soon +enlarged the sphere of their observations, and entered upon the widest +discussions of republican manners and morals. Slavery, as was to be +expected, received immediate attention. In the course of ten years, +"American Tours" had set in with such rigor, that one writer felt called +upon to apologize for adding another to the already profuse supply. This +was in 1818. For the next fifteen years, the principle of unlimited +mockery was quite faithfully observed. The Honorable De Roos, who made a +naval examination in 1826, and satisfied himself that the United States +could never be a maritime power,—Colonel Maxwell, who entered upon a +military investigation, and came to a similar conclusion respecting our +prospects as to army, and who gained great credit for independent +judgment by pronouncing Niagara a humbug,—Mrs. Kemble, frisky and +fragmentary, excepting when her father was concerned, and then filially +diffuse,—Mrs. Trollope, who refused to incumber herself with amiability +or veracity,—Mr. Lieber, who was principally troubled by a camp meeting +at which he assisted,—Miss Martineau, who retailed too much of the +gossip that had been decanted through the tunnel of her trumpet,—and +Captain Marryatt, who was simply clownish,—afford fair examples of the +style which dominated until about 1836 or 1837. Then works of a better +order began to appear. America received scientific attention. It had +been agriculturally worked up in 1818 by Cobbett, whose example was now +followed by Shirreff and others. In 1839, George Combe subjected us to +phrenological treatment, and had the frankness to acknowledge that it +was impossible for an individual to properly describe a great nation. +Afterwards came Lyell, the geologist, who did not, however, confine +himself to scientific research, but also analyzed the social deposits, +and ascertained that Slavery was triturable. The manufacturers of +gossip, meanwhile, had revolutionized the old system. Mr. Dickens blew +hot and cold, uniting extremes. Godley, in 1841, disavowed satire, and +was solemnly severe. Others evinced a similar disposition, but the +result was not triumphant. Alexander Mackay, in 1846, returned to +ridicule; and Alfred Bunn, a few years after, surpassed even Marryatt in +his flippant falsehood. Mr. Arthur Cunynghame, a Canadian officer, +entertained his friends, in 1850, with a dainty volume, in which the +first personal pronoun averaged one hundred to a page, and the manner of +which was as stiff as the ramrods of his regiment. Of our more recent +judges, the best remembered are Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley who gave to +the world the details of her private experiences,—Mr. Chambers, of +whose book there is really nothing in particular to say,—Mr. Baxter, +who considered Peter Parley a shining light of American +literature,—Miss Murray, who sacrificed her interests at St. James's +upon the shrine of Antislavery,—Mr. Phillipps, scientific,—Mr. +Russell, agricultural,—Mr. Jobson, theological,—and Mr. Colley +Grattan, who may be termed the Sir Anthony Absolute of American censors, +insisting that the Lady Columbia shall be as ugly as he chooses, shall +have a hump on each shoulder, shall be as crooked as the crescent, and +so forth.</p> + +<p>Last of all comes Mr. Charles Mackay's book. Before proceeding to the +few general words we have to say of it, let us look for a moment at a +question which he, like a number of his predecessors, has considered +with some attention. Why it is that the people of the United States +manifest such acute sensibility to the strictures of English writers, +and receive their criticisms with so much suspicion, Mr. Mackay is +unable fully to determine. He is forced to believe that it is only their +anxiety "to stand well in English opinion which causes them to wince"; +particularly as "French and Germans may condemn, and nobody cares what +they say." This is but a part of the truth. Unquestionably, Americans +do, as Mr. Mackay says, "attach undue importance to what English +travellers may say"; but this does not account for the universal feeling +of mortification which follows the appearance of each new tourist's +story. Americans have not failed to observe, that, of the hundreds of +writers who come over, only a few of the most prominent of whom we have +mentioned above, not one in fifty is animated by a sincere impulse of +honest good-will. They have learned to mistrust them all, as triflers +with our reputation, if not predetermined calumniators. They have +witnessed over and over again the childish ignorance, the discourtesy, +the vulgar deceptions of this class of bookmakers. They are not blind to +these repeated struggles to digest a mass of mental food for years, in +days or weeks. They know their nation cannot be understood by these +chance viewers, feebly glancing through greenest spectacles, any more +than the Atlantic can be sounded with a seven-fathom line. They have +become familiar with the English traveller only to regard him with +contempt. Each new production has opened the old wound. Each new +announcement awakens only derisive expectations. As for "French and +Germans," with them it is very different; and Mr. Mackay ought to know +it. They commonly write, if not with comprehensive vision, at least with +integrity of purpose. The best works on America are by Frenchmen. What +Englishman has shown the sincerity and fairness of De Tocqueville or +Chevalier? Knowing, then, that absurd malice and a capacity for +microscopic investigation of superficial irregularities in a society not +yet defined are the principal, and in many cases the only, +qualifications deemed necessary to accomplish an English book on +America, is it matter for wonder that Americans should hesitate to kiss +the clumsy rods so liberally dispensed?</p> + +<p>We hasten to say that Mr. Charles Mackay's "Life and Liberty in America" +is unusually free from the worst of these faults. Hasty judgments, +offences against taste, inaccuracies, occasional revelations of personal +pique it has; but it is not malicious. Sometimes it is even affecting in +its tenderness. It breathes a spirit of paternal regard. But it is, +perhaps, the dullest of books. If not "icily regular," it is "splendidly +null." The style is as oppressive as a London fog. It is marked, to use +the author's own words, by "elegant and drowsy stagnation." After the +first few pages, it is with weariness that we follow him. We are +inclined to think Mr. Mackay has written too much, Mr. Squeers had milk +for three of his pupils watered up to the necessities of five. Mr. +Mackay's experiences might have sustained him through a single small +volume, but he has diluted them to the requirements of two large ones. +This would injure the prospects of his work in America, but may not +interfere with them in England. Minute details of toilet agonies, +pecuniary miseries, laundry tribulations, and anxieties of appetite may +possess an interest abroad which we are unable to appreciate here. We +are not excited by the intelligence that Mr. Mackay had an altercation +with a negro servant on board a Sound steamer, because he could not have +lager-beer at table. Such things have been noticed before. We do not +shed a sympathetic tear over the two dollars which he once had to +disgorge in New York, in payment for a ride of two miles; nor do we +mourn for the numerous other dollars with which he reluctantly parted to +satisfy the rapacity of hack-drivers all over the Union. We do not +thrill with indignation, when we learn that he was, on a certain +occasion, swept by crinolines into the middle of Broadway. Neither are +we in any way stirred by such information as, that he, like an English +lord of whom he tells, was accustomed to eat oysters every night in New +York; or that he "was pervaded, permeated, steeped, and bathed in a +longing desire to behold Niagara," and that, when he beheld it, his +"feelings were not so much those of astonishment as of an overpowering +sense of Law"; or that a peddler in a railroad-car sold nine bottles of +quack medicine at a dollar a bottle; or that he had eight pages of +interview with a Baltimore madman, who proved his insanity by +perpetually calling Mr. Mackay the "Prince of the Poets of England." The +dreary solemnity with which these incidents are narrated renders them +doubly tedious. A flash of humor might enliven them, but we never see a +spark. Mr. Mackay's comic stories, too, of which there are not a few, +are most lamentable specimens of wit, suggesting forcibly the +poppy-seeds spoken of by Mr. Pillicoddy, which are soporific in +tendency, and which, if taken incessantly for a period of three weeks, +produce instant death.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mackay's experiences were not of a startling character. He travelled +leisurely, and recorded discreetly. His blunders on a large scale are +not numerous; but of minor facts, he announces many which may be classed +among the remarkable discoveries of the season. He states that New York, +New Jersey,(!) and Brooklyn form one city; that Broadway, N.Y., is +decorated with elms, willows, and mountain-ashes, "drooping in green +beauty"; that persons with decent coats and clean shirts in Boston may +be safely put down as lecturers, Unitarian ministers, or poets; that +Maryland and Virginia are one commonwealth; that eighteen months before +every Presidential election, a cause of quarrel is made with England by +both the principal political parties, for the purpose of securing the +Irish rote; that measly pork is caused by too hasty insertion in brine +after killing, and consequent rapid fermentation; that the people of +the United States, unless they have travelled in Europe, are quite +unable to appreciate wit. [Mr. Mackay's wit? If so, certainly.] These +are but random pluckings from a rich blossoming.</p> + +<p>The subject upon which the author has labored most earnestly is that of +Slavery. If the views he sets forth are the result of his own +investigation, he is entitled to credit for unusual exactness. There is +nothing new about them, to be sure; but there is also nothing absurd, +which is a great point. He maintains the argument against Slavery, that +it is to be practically considered in its injurious influences on the +white people of the Slave States, and, through them, on the nation at +large. When he undertakes an emotional view of the "institution," he +becomes feeble again. He thus describes his sensations while visiting a +slave-market in New Orleans:—"I entertained at that moment such a +hatred of slavery, that, had it been in my power to abolish it in an +instant off the face of the earth by the mere expression of my will, +slavery at that moment would have ceased to exist,"—an avowal which +will hardly be likely to confound the American people by its boldness.</p> + +<p>The statistical information in these volumes is as accurate as that of +ordinary gazetteers. In most cases, the author appears to have drawn his +information from proper sources. The principal exceptions to this are +shown in one or two statements which he makes on the authority of his +Pylades, Colonel Fuller, and in his remarks upon Canada, which are +colored with excessive warmth. Mr. Mackay rests greater hopes upon the +future of Canada than upon that of the United States. He considers the +Canadians as the rivals in energy, enterprise, and industry of the +people of the United States. His testimony differs from that of Lord +Durham, who had good opportunities for knowing something about the +matter when he had charge of Canadian affairs, and who declared, that +"on the American side of the frontier all is activity and bustle," etc., +"on the British side all seems waste and desolate."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mackay gives correctly the most prominent names of American +literature, but his list of artists is very imperfect. The little that +he says about American music is all wrong. The first opera by an +American was produced in 1845; and it is not true that this is a +solitary example. Were it possible for us to pursue them, we should run +down more errors of this kind than a prudent man would have put into +print.</p> + +<p>Altogether, while we readily admit that Mr. Mackay has honestly, and, in +general, good-naturedly, performed his duty as an American chronicler, +renouncing in a great measure the old principle of "blowing-up," and +that his essays do not reek with ignorance, like those of many of his +predecessors, it is yet proper to say that he has achieved a stupendous +bore. His two volumes are to us a melancholy remembrance. Their life is +spiced with no variety. The same dead level of dry personal detail +speaks through each chapter; or if occasional relief is afforded, it is +"in liquid lines mellifluously bland," and prosier than all the rest. +The one source of amusement that the reader will discover is the +complacent self-confidence which no assumption of modesty can hide. "A +controversy had been raging for at least a week" in Philadelphia about +the author's letters in the "Illustrated London News." His defender was +"one of the most influential and best-conducted papers of the Union"; +his assailant behaved "scurvily." We cannot lavish examples. This is the +type of a hundred. Mr. Mackay seems to expect that his Jeremiad on +tobacco-chewing and spitting will act in America as St. Patrick's spells +did on the vermin of Ireland. Unfortunately, it will not. Mr. Dickens +attempted the same thing in a much better manner,—excepting where Mr. +Mackay has copied him exactly, as he has once or twice,—and even the +novelist's efforts were fruitless. On the other hand, the main source of +annoyance will be found in the needless elevation of minute evils, and +the determination to form general judgments from isolated experiences. +But of this we do not much complain. Rome derived some benefit from the +cackling of a goose. Possibly we may be made in some respects a wiser +and a better nation through Mr. Mackay's influence. For ourselves, +however, if our aspirations ever turn toward a literary Paradise, we +shall pray that it may be one where travellers cease from troubling and +dull tourists are at rest.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>1. <i>The New and the Old</i>; or California and India in Romantic Aspects. +By <span class='smcap'>J.W. Palmer, M.D.</span> New York: Rudd & Carleton. 1859.</p> + +<p>2. <i>Up and Down the Irawaddi</i>; being Passages of Adventure in the Burman +Empire. By the Same.</p> + +<p>It has passed into a scornful proverb, that it needs good optics to see +what is not to be seen; and yet we should be inclined to say that the +first essential of a good traveller was to be gifted with eyesight of +precisely that kind. All his senses should be as delicate as eyes; and, +above all, he should be able to see with the fine eye of imagination, +compared with which all the other organs with which the mind grasps and +the memory holds are as clumsy as thumbs. The demand for this kind of +traveller and the opportunity for him increase as we learn more and more +minutely the dry facts and figures of the most inaccessible corners of +the earth's surface. There is no hope of another Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, +with his statistics of Dreamland, who makes no difficulty of impressing +"fourscore thousand rhinocerots" to draw the wagons of the King of +Tartary's army, or of killing eight hundred and fifty thousand men with +a flourish of his quill,—for what were a few ciphers to him, when his +inkhorn was full and all Christendom to be astonished?—but there is all +the more need of voyagers who give us something better than a census of +population, and who know of other exports from strange countries than +can be expressed by $——. Give us the traveller who makes us feel the +mystery of the Figure at Saïs, whose veil has a new meaning for every +beholder, rather than him who brings back a photograph of the uncovered +countenance, with its one unvarying granite story for all. There is one +glory of the Gazetteer with his fixed facts, and another of the Poet +with his variable quantities of fancy. The fixed fact may be unfixed +next year, like an almanac, but the hasty sketch of the true artist is +good forever.</p> + +<p>Critics have a good-natured way of stigmatizing, for the initiated, all +poetry that is not poetry, by saying that it is "elegant," "harmonious," +or, worse than all, "descriptive." This last commonly means that the +author has done for his readers precisely what they could do for +themselves,—that he has made a catalogue of the natural objects to be +found in a certain number of acres, which differs from the literary +efforts of an auctioneer only in this, that each line begins with a +capital and contains the same number of syllables. He counts the number +of cabbages in a field, of cows in a pasture, and tells us how many +times a squirrel ran up (or down) a given tree in a given time. He +informs us that the bark of the shagbark is shaggy, that the +sleep-at-noon slumbers at mid-day, that moss is apt to grow on fallen +tree-trunks in damp places,—treats us as the old alchemists do, who +give us a list of the materials out of which gold (if it had any moral +sense) would at once consent to be made, but somehow won't,—and leaves +us impressed with that very dead certainty, that things are so-and-so, +which is the result of verses that are only so-so.</p> + +<p>Readers of the "Atlantic" need not be told that Dr. Palmer is not a +descriptive poet of this fashion. They have known how to appreciate his +sketches of East Indian life, so vivid, picturesque, and imaginative +that they could make "Griffins" feel twinges of liver-complaint, and so +true that we have heard them pronounced "incomparable" by men familiar +with India. Dr. Palmer is no mere describer; he sees with the eye of a +poet, touches only what is characteristic, and, while he seems to +surrender himself wholly to the Circe Imagination, retains the polished +coolness of the man of the world, and the <i>brownness</i> of the man of the +nineteenth century. He not only knows how to observe, but how to +write,—both of them accomplishments rare enough in an age when +everybody is ready to contract for their display by the column. His +style is nervous and original, not harassingly pointed like a +chestnut-burr, but full of <i>esprit</i> or wit diffused,—that Gallic leaven +which pervades whole sentences and paragraphs with an indefinable +lightness and palatableness. It is a thoroughly American style, too, a +little over-indifferent to tradition and convention, but quite free of +the <i>sic-semper-tyrannis</i> swagger. Uncle Bull, who is just like his +nephew in thinking that he has a divine right to the world's oyster, +cannot swallow it properly till he has donned a white choker, and +refuses to be comforted when Jonathan disposes of it in his rapid way +with the shell for a platter. We confess that we prefer the +free-and-easy manner in its proper place to the diplomatic way of always +treating the reader with sentiments of the highest consideration, and +like a book all the more for having an Occidental flavor.</p> + +<p>But it is not merely or chiefly as being among the cleverest and +liveliest of modern light literature that we value Dr. Palmer's books. +They have a true poetic value, and instruct as much as they entertain. +While he is telling us a San Francisco story, the truth of the +accessories and the skill with which they are grouped bring the +California of 1849 before us with unmatched vividness. We have been +getting knowledge and learning a deep moral without suspecting it, as if +by our own observation and experience. In the same way "Asirvadam the +Brahmin" is a prose poem that lets us into the secret of the Indian +revolt. It is seldom that we meet with volumes of more real power than +these, or whose force is so artistically masked under ease and +playfulness. We prefer the "Old" part of the book to the "New." It seems +to us to show a better style of handling. There is something of +melodrama in the style of the California stories,—a flavor of blue +lights and burnt cork. At the same time, we must admit that there is a +melodramatic taint in our American life:—witness the Sickles vulgarity. +Young America is <i>b'hoyish</i> rather than boyish, and perhaps the "New" +may be all the truer to Nature for what we dislike in it.</p> + +<p>"The New and the Old" is fittingly dedicated to the Autocrat of all the +Breakfast-Tables, than whom no man has done more to demonstrate that wit +and mirth are not incompatible with seriousness of purpose and +incisiveness of thought.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Napoleonic Ideas</i>. By Prince <span class='smcap'>Napolean Louis Bonaparte</span>. Translated by +<span class='smcap'>James A. Dorr</span>. New York: D. Appleton & Company. 1859.</p> + +<p>This publication has at least that merit which is one of the first in +literature,—it is timely. Though we look upon the Emperor of the French +as a kind of imperial Jonathan Wild, it does not the less concern us to +make a true estimate of his intellectual capacity. Nothing is more +unwise than to assume that a man's brain must be limited because his +moral sense is small; yet no mistake is more common. Napoleon the Third +may play an important part in History, though by no possibility an +heroic one. In reading this little volume, one cannot fail to be struck +with the presence of mind and the absence of heart of which it gives +evidence. It is the advertisement of a charlatan, whose sole inheritance +is the right to manufacture the Napoleonic pill, and we read with +unavoidable distrust the vouchers of its wonderful efficacy. We do not +fancy the Bonapartist grape-cure, nor believe in it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dorr's translation is excellent. He understands French, and is able +to do it into English elegantly and accurately without any trace of +foreign idiom. This is no easy thing; for our general experience has +been that translators read French like Englishmen and write English like +Frenchmen.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Country Life</i>. By <span class='smcap'>R. Morris Copeland.</span> Boston: John P. Jewett & Company. +1859.</p> + +<p>In an article on "Farming Life in New England," published in a former +volume of the "Atlantic," a valued contributor drew attention to the +painful lack of beauty in the lives and homes of our rural population. +Some attempts were made to show that his statements were exaggerated; +but we are satisfied that they were true in all essential particulars. +The abolition of entails, (however wise in itself,) and the consequent +subdivision of estates, will always put country life, in the English +sense of the words, out of the question here. Our houses will continue +to be tents; trees, without ancestral associations, will be valued by +the cord; and that cumulative charm, the slow result of associations, of +the hereditary taste of many generations, must always be wanting. Age is +one of the prime elements of natural beauty; but among us the love of +what is new so predominates, that we have known the largest oak in a +county to be cut down by the selectmen to make room for a shanty +schoolhouse, simply because the tree was of "no account," being hollow +and gnarled, and otherwise delightfully picturesque. Our people are +singularly dead also to the value of beauty in public architecture; and +while they clear away a tree which the seasons have been two centuries +in building, they will put up with as little remorse a stone or brick +abomination that shall be a waking nightmare for a couple of centuries +to come. But selectmen are not chosen with reference to their knowledge +of Price or Ruskin.</p> + +<p>Mr. Copeland's book is specially adapted to the conditions of a +community like ours. Its title might have been "Rural Æsthetics for Men +of Limited Means, or the Laws of Beauty considered in their Application +to Small Estates." It is a volume happily conceived and happily +executed, and meets a palpable and increasing want of our civilization. +Whatever adds grace to the daily lives of a people, and awakens in them +a perception of the beauty of outward Nature and its healthful reaction +on the nature of man,—whatever tends to make toil unsordid, and to put +it in relations of intelligent sympathy with the beautiful progression +of the seasons,—adds incalculably to the wealth of a country, though +the increase may not appear in the Report of the Secretary of the +Interior.</p> + +<p>Mr. Copeland's volume is calculated to do this, and his own +qualifications for the task he has undertaken are manifold. Chief among +them we should reckon a true enthusiasm for the cause he advocates, and +a hearty delight in out-of-doors-life. He writes with the zeal and +warmth of a reformer; but these are tempered by practical knowledge, and +such a respect for the useful as will not sacrifice it to the merely +pretty. His volume contains not only suggestions in landscape-gardening, +guided always by the true principle of making Nature our ally rather +than attempting to subdue her, but minute directions for the greenhouse, +grapery, conservatory, farm, and kitchen-garden. One may learn from it +how to plant whatever grows, and to care for it afterwards. Engravings +and plans make clear whatever needs illustration. The book has also the +special merit of <i>not</i> being adapted to the meridian of Greenwich.</p> + +<p>We do not always agree with Mr. Copeland; we dissent especially from his +prejudice against the noble horsechestnut-tree, with its grand +thunder-cloud of foliage, its bee-haunted cones of bloom, and its +polished fruit so uselessly useful to children,—Bushy Park is answer +enough on that score; but we cordially appreciate his taste and ability. +His book will justify a warm commendation. It is laid out on true +principles of landscape-farming. The stiff and square economical details +are relieved by passages of great beauty and picturesqueness. The +cockney who owns a snoring-privilege in the suburbs will be stimulated +to a sense of latent beauty in clouds and fields; and the farmer who +looks on the cosmic forces as mere motive-power for the wheels of his +money-mill will find the truth of the proverb, that more water runs over +the dam than the miller wots of, and learn that Nature is as lavish of +Beauty as she is frugal in Use. Even to the editor, whose only fields +are those of literature, and whose only leaves grow from a +composing-stick, the advent of a book like this is refreshing. It +enables him to lay out with a judicious economy the gardens attached to +his Spanish manor-houses, and to do his farming without risk of loss, in +the most charming way of all, (especially in July weather,)—by proxy. +Without leaving our study, we have already raised some astonishing +prize-vegetables, and our fat cattle have been approvingly mentioned in +the committee's report. We have found an afternoon's reading in Mr. +Copeland's book almost as good as owning that "place in the country" +which almost all men dream of as an ideal to be realized whenever their +visionary ship comes in.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>High Life in New York.</i> By <span class='smcap'>Jonathan Slick</span>. Philadelphia: Peterson & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>The advantages of a favorable introduction are very obvious. A person +who enters society fortified with eulogistic letters, giving assurance +of his trustworthiness, so far as respectability and good behavior are +concerned, is tolerably sure of a comfortable reception. But if, unable +to sustain the character his credentials ascribe to him, he immediately +begin to display bad manners, ignorance, and folly, he not only forfeits +the position to which he has gained accidental access, but also brings +discredit upon his too hasty indorser.</p> + +<p>In literature it is not different. The collection of printed matter +which appears under the title of "High Life in New York" is accompanied +by a note, signed by the publishers, who are naturally supposed to know +something of the real value of the works they issue, in which "editors +are forewarned that it is a volume which, for downright drollery and +hearty humor, has never had its equal in the productions of any American +pen," and are otherwise admonished in various ways calculated to inspire +lofty expectations, and to fill the mind with exalted visions of coming +joy. But when it appears, on examination, that the book is as utterly +unworthy of these elaborate commendations as any book can possibly +be,—that it is from beginning to end nothing but a dead level of +stagnant verbiage, a desolate waste of dreary platitude,—the reader +cannot but regard the publishers' ardent expressions of approbation as +going quite beyond the license allowable in preliminary puffs.</p> + +<p>"High Life in New York" represents a class of publications which has, of +late, in many ways, been set before the public with too great +liberality. The sole object seems to be to exhibit the "Yankee" +character in its traditional deformities of stupidity and +meanness,—otherwise denominated simplicity and shrewdness. Mr. Jonathan +Slick is in no respect different from the ordinary fabulous Yankee. An +illiterate clown he is, who, visiting New York, contrives by vice of +impudence, to interfere very seriously with certain conventionalities of +the metropolis. He overthrows, by his indomitable will, a great many +social follies. He eats soup with a knife and fork; wears no more than +one shirt a week; forces his way into ladies' chambers at unseemly +hours, to cure them of timidity; and introduces sundry other reforms, +all of which are recorded as evidences of glorious independence and a +true nobility of spirit. Sometimes he goes farther,—farther than we +care to follow him. It would be easy to show wherein he is offensive, +not to say disgusting; but we are not so disposed. It is not considered +necessary for the traveller who has dragged his way over a muddy road to +prove the nastiness of his pilgrimage by imparting the stain to our +carpets.</p> + +<p>In this book, as in most of its class, the Yankee dialect is employed +throughout, the author evidently believing that bad spelling and bad +grammar are the legitimate sources of New England humor. This shows that +he mistakes means for ends,—just as one who supposes that Mr. Merryman, +in the circus, must, of necessity, be funny, because he wears the motley +and his nose is painted red. The Yankee dialect is Mr. Jonathan Slick's +principal element of wit; his second is the onion. The book is redolent +of onions. That odorous vegetable breathes from every page. A woman +weeps, and onions are invoked to lend aromatic fragrance to a stale +comparison. In one place, onions and education are woven together by +some extraordinary rhetorical machinery; in another, religion is +glorified through the medium of the onion; until at last the narrative +seems to resolve itself into a nauseating nightmare, such as might +torture the brain of some unhappy dreamer in a bed of onions.</p> + +<p>Why such works are ever written at all, it is difficult to imagine; but +how it is, that, when written, they find publishers, is inconceivable.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Great Auction-Sale of Slaves, at Savannah, Georgia.</i> New York: +Published by the American Anti-Slavery Society.</p> + +<p>This little pamphlet, reprinted from the columns of the "New York +Tribune," possesses a double interest. It furnishes the best and most +minute description of an auction-sale of slaves that has ever been +published; and it admirably illustrates the enterprise and prompt energy +which often distinguish the journalism of America above that of any +other country.</p> + +<p>The slave-sale of which it is a record took place on the second and +third days of March last, in the city of Savannah. For many reasons, it +had been looked forward to with more than usual interest. The position +of the owner, Mr. Pierce M. Butler, of Philadelphia, and the large +number (no less than four hundred and thirty-six) and superior quality +of the human chattels offered for sale, added to the importance of the +event. The "Tribune" had one of its best descriptive writers, Mr. +Mortimer Thomson, on the spot. The duty Mr. Thomson undertook was not +without danger; for a somewhat extensive notoriety as an <i>attaché</i> of +the "Tribune" was not likely to insure him the most cordial reception at +the South. Had his presence been discovered, the temper of the people of +Savannah would speedily have betrayed itself; and had his purpose been +suspected, their wrath would assuredly have culminated in wreakages of a +nature unfavorable to his personal comfort. But with caution, and the +aid of Masonic influences, he escaped detection, and accomplished his +aim. The result of his observations was a report of considerable length, +in which every striking incident of the sale was narrated with accurate +fidelity. Although written mostly on the rail and against time, under +circumstances which would be fatal to the labors of any man not inured +by newspaper experience to all sorts of literary hardships, the style is +clear, distinct, and often eloquent. The scene and the transaction are +brought vividly to the reader's mind. The throng of eager +speculators,—the heavy-eyed and brutal drivers,—the sprightlier +representatives of Chivalry,—the unhappy slaves, abandoning hope as +they enter the mart, excepting in rare cases, where, grasping at straws, +they pray in trembling tones that their ties of love may remain +unsevered,—the operations of the sale,—the shrinking women, standing +submissively under the vile jests of the reckless crowd,—are portrayed +with all the emphasis of truth. One little episode in particular, the +love-story of Jeffrey and Dorcas, is a more affecting history than +romance can show.</p> + +<p>The effect of this publication in the "Tribune" was prodigious. It was +widely circulated through all the journals of the North. The +Anti-Slavery Society preserved it in a pamphlet. The ire of a good +portion of the Southern journals was ludicrous to witness, and proved +how keenly the blow was felt. The report was republished in Great +Britain,—first in the London "Times," and subsequently, as a pamphlet, +in Edinburgh, in Glasgow, and in Belfast. In one publisher's +announcement, at least, it was advertised as "Greeley's Account of the +Great Slave-Sale."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Popular Tales from the Norse</i>. By <span class='smcap'>George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L.</span> With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. lxix., 379.</p> + +<p>The tales of which this volume presents the first English +translation—though, as regards some of them, hardly the first English +version—appear to have been collected about twenty or twenty-five years +ago. Two gentlemen, Messrs. Asbjörnsen and Moe, (the name of the first +of whom begets much confidence in his ability for the task,) went out +among the most unlettered and rudest of the common folk of Norway and +Sweden, and there, from the lips of old women and little children, +gathered these stories of the antique time. Of what age the stories are, +nobody knows,—those who listened to them in their childhood, to relate +them in turn in their declining years, least perhaps of all. For they +are a part of the inheritance common to all the races that have sprung +from the Asiatic ancestor, who, at periods the nearest of which is far +beyond the ken of history, and at intervals of centuries, sent off +descendants to find a resting-place in Europe; and it is one great +object, if not the principal object, of the original collectors and the +translator of these tales to exhibit in them a bond of union among all +European peoples.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the tales in their present form may be regarded as examples in +point appended to the translator's Essay which opens the volume. For +they will add little to our stock of available stories, for either +youthful or adult reading. The best of them already are a part of our +nursery lore, and are known to the English race under forms better +adapted to English taste and sympathies than those under which they are +here presented; and nearly all of those that are exceptions to this +remark are unfitted for "home consumption," either by the objectionable +nature of their subjects, by the still more objectionable tendency of +their teaching, or by a yet more fatal demerit,—their lack of interest. +They are in some respects notably tame and puerile,—with a puerility +which is not childish simplicity, but a lack of inventive fancy, and +which exhibits itself in bald repetition. The giant, for instance, +always complains of a smell of Christian blood, and is always answered +by the formula, that a crow flew over the chimney and must have dropped +a bone down it; the hero almost always meets three old women, or three +Trolls, or three enchanted beasts or birds, of whom he in that case +always asks the same questions, receiving the same replies, <i>verbatim</i>. +There is a reason for this sameness, which is indicative of the rude +condition of the people among whom the tales have been perpetuated; but +the sameness palls none the less upon more cultivated minds. Mr. Dasent +characterizes these people as "an honest and manly race,—not the race +of the towns and cities, but of the dales and fells, free and unsubdued, +holding its own in a country where there are neither lords nor ladies, +but simple men and women. Brave men and fair women," etc. (p. lxviii.) +And he says of the tales, that in no other collection is "the general +tone so chaste, are the great principles of morality better worked out, +and right and wrong kept so steadily in sight." (p. lxii.) We cannot +agree with him in this appreciation of the moral tone of the stories, +many of which certainly speak ill for the honesty and manliness of the +race among which they have been for centuries cherished +household-treasures. For in a large proportion of those that have a +successful hero, he obtains his success either by lying or some kind of +deceit or treachery, by stealing, or by imposing upon the credulity or +feebleness of age; and of those in which the hero is himself victorious +over oppression, we are not able to recollect one which exhibits the +beauty of moderation and magnanimity, not to say of Christian charity +and forgiveness. Mr. Dasent mentions it as an admirable trait of the +tales, that, "in the midst of every difficulty and danger, arises that +old Norse feeling of making the best of everything and keeping a good +face to the foe." Certainly the heroes of these tales do make the best +of everything, but they are not at all scrupulous as to their way of +making it; and they do also keep a good face to the foe, when (often by +craft, theft, or violence) they have obtained some implement or other +gift of supernatural power which places their opponents entirely at +their mercy and with no risk to themselves. But of a manful contest on +equal terms, or of a victory obtained over tyrannous power by a union of +patience, boldness, and honest skill, or even by undegrading stratagem, +the collection affords no instance that we remember.</p> + +<p>The story of Shortshanks may be taken as a fair, and even a favorable +example of the tone of these Norse tales. Shortshanks and King Sturdy +are twin brothers, who set out to seek their fortunes within a few +minutes of their birth, driven thereto by a precocious perception of the +<i>res angustæ domi</i>. They part at two roads almost immediately, and the +story follows the fortunes of Shortshanks, the younger; for in these +miniature romances the elder is, as usual, continually snubbed, and the +younger is always the great man. Shortshanks has not gone far before he +meets "an old crook-backed hag," who has only one eye; and he commences +his career by gouging out or "snapping up" the single comfort of this +helpless creature. To get her eye back again, she gives Shortshanks a +sword that will put a whole army to flight; and he, charmed with the +result of his first manoeuvre, puts it in practice successively upon two +other decrepit, half-blind women, who, to get their eyes again, give +him, one, a ship that can sail over fresh water and salt water and over +high hills and deep dales, the other, the art how to brew a hundred +lasts of malt at one strike. The ship takes him to the king's palace, on +arriving at which he puts his vessel in his pocket, when he summons his +craft to his aid, and gets a place in the king's kitchen to carry wood +and water for the maid. The king's daughter has for some inscrutable +reason been promised to three ogres, who come successively to fetch her; +and a certain Ritter Red professes to be man enough to rescue her, but +on the approach of the first ogre proves to be a coward and climbs a +tree. But Shortshanks slips off from his scullery; and having a weapon +which can put a whole army to flight by a single stroke, he is very +brave, and keeps a remarkably good face to the foe, giving him with his +tongue as good as he sends, and, laughing the ogres' dubs to scorn, cuts +off the ogrous heads, (there are five on the first individual, ten on +the second, and fifteen on the third,) and carries off much treasure +from the ships in which his foes came to fetch their victim. Ritter Red +descends, and takes the lungs and the tongues of the ogres, (though, as +the latter were thirty in number and of gigantic size, he must have had +trouble in carrying them,) and wishes to pass them off as evidence that +he is the deliverer of the princess, of which they would seem to have +been very satisfactory proof: but the gold, silver, and diamonds carry +the day; Shortshanks has the princess and half the kingdom, and Ritter +Red is thrown into a pit full of snakes,—on the French general's +principle, we suppose, who hung his cowards "<i>pour encourager les +autres</i>." But the king has another daughter, whom an ogre has carried +off to the bottom of the sea. Shortshanks discovers her while the ogre +is out looking for a man who can brew a hundred lasts of malt at one +strike. He finds the man at home, of course, and puts him to his task. +Shortshanks gets the ogre and all his kith and kin to help the brew, and +brews the wort so strong, that, on tasting it, they all fall down dead, +except one, an old woman, "who lay bed-ridden in the chimney-corner," +and to her our hero carries his wort and kills her too. He then carries +off the treasure of the ogres, and gives this princess and the other +half of the kingdom to his brother Sturdy.</p> + +<p>Now we have no particular fault to find with such stories as these, when +they are produced as characteristic specimens of the folk-lore of a +people; as such, they have a value beside their intrinsic interest;—but +when we are asked to receive them as part of the evidence that that +people is an honest and manly race, and as an acceptable addition to our +stock of household tales, we demur. The truth is, that the very worth of +these tales is to be found not only in the fact that they form a part of +the stock from which our own are derived, but in the other fact that +they represent that stock as it existed at an earlier and ruder stage of +humanitarian development. They were told by savage mothers to savage +children; and although some of them teach the few virtues common to +barbarism and civilization, they are filled with the glorification of +savage vice and crime;—deceit, theft, violence, even ruthless vengeance +upon a cruel parent, are constantly practised by the characters which +they hold up to favor. Such humor as they have, too, is of the coarsest +kind, and is expressed chiefly in rude practical jokes, or the bloody +overreaching of the poor thick-headed Trolls, who are the butts of the +stories and the victims of their heroes. There is good ethnological and +mythological reason why the Trolls should be butts and victims, it is +true; but that is not to the present purpose.</p> + +<p>But although this judgment must be passed upon the collection, +considered merely as tales to be told and read at this stage of the +world's progress, there are several notable exceptions to it,—tales +which are based upon healthy instincts, and which appeal to sympathies +that are never entirely undeveloped in the breasts of human beings above +the grade of Bushmen, or in which the fun does not depend upon the +exhibition of unexpected modes of inflicting death, pain, or discomfort. +It is not, however, in these that we are to look for the chief +attraction and compensating value of the collection. Those are to be +found, as we have already hinted, in the relative aspects of the tales, +which the general reader might consider for a long time fruitlessly, +save for the help of Mr. Dasent's Introductory Essay. This is at once an +acute and learned commentary upon the tales themselves, and a thoroughly +elaborated monograph upon mythology in its ethnological relations. We +know no other essay upon this subject that is so comprehensive, so +compact, so clear, and so well adapted to interest intelligent readers +who have little previous knowledge on the subject, as Mr. Dasent's, +although, of necessity, it presents us with results, not processes. A +perusal of this Essay will give the intelligent and attentive reader so +just a general notion of the last results of philological and +ethnological investigation into the history of the origin and progress +of the Indo-European races, that he can listen with understanding to the +conversation of men who have made that subject their special study, and +appreciate, in a measure at least, the value of the many references to +it which he meets in the course of his miscellaneous reading. And should +he be led by the contagion of Mr. Dasent's intelligent enthusiasm to +desire a more intimate acquaintance with a topic which rarely fails to +fascinate those whose tastes lead them to enter at all upon it, he may +start from this Essay with hints as to the plan and purpose of his +reading which will save him much otherwise blind and fruitless labor.</p> + +<p>This, however, is not all. It is but right also to say that the readers +whose religion is one of extreme orthodoxy, that is, who deem it their +bounden duty to believe exactly and literally as somebody else believed +before them,—such readers will find their orthodoxy often shocked by +the tales which Mr. Dasent has translated, and yet oftener and more +violently by conclusions which Mr. Dasent draws from a comparison of +these stories with others that bear the same relation to other races +which these do to the Norsemen. The man who believes that Hell is a +particular part of the universe, filled with flames and melted +brimstone, into which actual devils, with horns, hoofs, and tails, dip, +or are to dip, wicked people, whom, for greater convenience, they have +previously perforated with three-tined pitchforks,—such a man will be +puzzled by the story, "Why the Sea is Salt," and horrified with this +comment in Mr. Dasent's Essay:—</p> + +<p class='blockquot'> +"The North had its own notion on this +point. Its mythology was not without its +own dark powers; but though they, too, were +ejected and dispossessed, they, according to +that mythology, had rights of their own. To +them belonged all the universe that had not +been seized and reclaimed by the younger +race of Odin and Æsir; and though this +upstart dynasty, as the Frost-Giants in +Æschylean phrase would have called it, well knew +that Hel, one of this giant progeny, was fated +to do them all mischief, and to outlive them, +they took her and made her queen of Niflheim, +and mistress over nine worlds. There, +in a bitterly cold place, she received the souls +of all who died of sickness or old age; care +was her bed, hunger her dish, starvation her +knife. Her walls were high and strong, and her +bolts and bars huge. 'Half blue was her skin, +and half the color of human flesh. A goddess +easy to know, and in all things very stern and +grim.' But though severe, she was not an +evil spirit. She only received those who died +as no Norseman wished to die. For those +who fell on the gory battle-field, or sank +beneath the waves, Valhalla was prepared, and +endless mirth and bliss with Odin. Those +went to Hel who were rather unfortunate +than wicked, who died before they could be +killed. But when Christianity came in and +ejected Odin and his crew of false divinities, +declaring them to be lying gods and demons, +then Hel fell with the rest,—but, fulfilling her +fate, outlived them. From a person she +became a place; and all the Northern nations, +from the Goth to the Norseman, agreed in +believing Hell to be the abode of the Devil and +his wicked spirits, the place prepared from +the beginning for the everlasting torments +of the damned. One curious fact connected +with this explanation of Hell's origin will not +escape the reader's attention. The Christian +notion of Hell is that of a place of heat; for +in the East, whence Christianity came, heat +is often an intolerable torment,—and cold, on +the other hand, everything that is pleasant +and delightful. But to the dweller in the +North heat brings with it sensations of joy +and comfort, and life without fire has a dreary +outlook; so their Hel ruled in a cold region, +over those who were cowards by implication, +while the mead-cup went round, and huge +logs blazed and crackled, for the brave and +beautiful who had dared to die on the field +of battle. But under Christianity the extremes +of heat and cold have met, and Hel, +the cold, uncomfortable goddess, is now our +Hell, where flames and fires abound, and where +the devils abide in everlasting flame." +</p> + +<p>Still more will orthodoxy be shocked by Mr. Dasent's neglect to except +Christianity from the conclusion, (no new one, it need hardly be said, +to those who know anything of the subject,) that the mythologies or +personal histories of all religions have been evolved the one from the +other, or grafted the one upon the other,—and by his intimation, that +Christianity, keeping pure in its spirit and undiverted from its +purpose, has yet not hesitated to adapt its outward forms to the tough +popular traditions which it found deeply rooted in the soil where it +sought to grow, thus making itself "all things to all men, that it might +by all means save some."</p> + +<p>It will be seen that this book is not milk for babes, but meat for +strong men. Among the tales are some—and those, perhaps, the most +interesting—which Mr. Dasent justly characterizes as "intensely +heathen," and yet in which the Saviour of the world or his apostles +appear as interlocutors or actors, which alone unfits the volume for the +book-table of the household room. We are led to insist upon this trait +of the collection the more, because the translator's choice of language +often seems to be the result of a desire to adapt himself to very +youthful readers,—though why should even they be led to believe that +such phrases as the following are correct by seeing them in +print?—"Tore it up like nothing"; "ran away like anything"; "it was no +good" [<i>i.e.</i> of no use]; "in all my born days"; "after a bit" [<i>i.e</i>. a +little while]; "she had to let him in, and when he was, he lay," etc.; +"the Giant got up cruelly early." These, and others like them, are +profusely scattered through the tales, apparently from the mistaken +notion that they have some idiomatic force. They jar upon the ear of the +reader who comes to them from Mr. Dasent's admirably written +Introductory Essay.</p> + +<p>The book is one which we can heartily recommend to all who are +interested in popular traditions for their own sake, or in their +ethnological relations.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Love</i>, From the French of M.J. Michelet. Translated from the Fourth +Paris Edition, by <span class='smcap'>J.W. Palmer, M.D.</span>, Author of "The New and The Old," +"Up and Down the Irawaddi," etc.</p> + +<p>M. Michelet perhaps longs, like Anacreon, to tell the story of the +Atrides and of Cadmus, but here we find him singing only of Love. It is +a surprise to us that the historian should have chosen this +subject;—the book itself is another surprise. It starts from a few +facts which it borrows from science, and out of them it builds a +poem,—a drama in five acts called <i>Books</i>, to disguise them. Two +characters figure chiefly on the stage,—a husband and a wife. The unity +of time is not very strictly kept, for the pair are traced from youth to +age, and even beyond their mortal years. Moral reflections and +occasional rhapsodies are wreathed about this physiological and +psychological love-drama.</p> + +<p>Here, then, is a book with the most taking word in the language for its +title, and one of the most distinguished personages in contemporary +literature for its author. It has been extensively read in France, and +is attracting general notice in this country. Opinions are divided among +us concerning it; it is extravagantly praised, and hastily condemned.</p> + +<p>On the whole, the book is destined, we believe, to do much more good +than harm. Admit all its high-flown sentimentalism to be +half-unconscious affectation, such as we pardon in writers of the Great +Nation,—admit that the author is wild and fanciful in many of his +statements, that he talks of a state of society of which it has been +said that the law is that a man shall hate his neighbor and love his +neighbor's wife,—admit all this and what lesser faults may be added to +them, its great lessons are on the side of humanity, and especially of +justice to woman, founded on a study of her organic and spiritual +limitations.</p> + +<p><i>Woman is an invalid</i>. This is the first axiom, out of which flow the +precepts of care, bodily and mental, of tenderness, of consideration, +with which the book abounds. To show this, M. Michelet has recourse to +the investigations of the physiologists who during the present century +have studied the special conditions which according to the old axiom +make woman what she is. As nothing short of this can by any possibility +enable us to understand the feminine nature, we must not find fault with +some details not commonly thought adapted to the general reader. They +are given delicately, but they are given, and suggest a certain reserve +in introducing the book to the reading classes. Not only is woman an +invalid, but the <i>rhythmic character of her life</i>, "as if scanned by +Nature," is an element not to be neglected without total failure to read +her in health and in disease. There is a great deal relating to this +matter, some of it seeming fanciful and overwrought, but not more so +than the natures of many women. For woman herself is an hyperbole, and +the plainest statement of her condition is a figure of speech. Some of +those chapters that are written, as we might say, in hysteric +paragraphs, only more fitly express the extravagances which belong to +the nervous movements of the woman's nature.</p> + +<p><i>The husband must create the wife</i>. Much of the book is taken up with +the precepts by which this new birth of the woman is to be brought +about, M. Michelet's "entire affection" hateth those "nicer hands" winch +would refuse any, even the humblest offices. The husband should be at +once nurse and physician. He should regulate the food of the body, and +measure out the doses of mental nourishment. All this is kind and good +and affectionate; but there is just a suspicion excited that <i>Madame</i> +might become slightly <i>ennuyée</i>, if she were subjected to this minute +surveillance over her physical and spiritual hygiene. Everything must +depend on individual tendencies and aptitudes; we have known husbands +that were born for nurses,—and others, not less affectionate, that +worried more than they helped in that capacity.</p> + +<p>We cannot follow M. Michelet through his study of the reaction of the +characters of the husband and wife upon each other, of the influence of +maternity on conjugal relations, of the languishing of love and its +rejuvenescence. Still less can we do more than remotely allude to those +chapters in which his model woman is represented as ready on the +slightest occasion to prove the name of her sex synonymous with frailty. +We really do not know what to make of such things. The cool calculations +of temptation as certain, and failure as probable,—the serious advice +not to strike a wife under any circumstances,—such words have literally +no meaning to most of our own American readers. Our women are educated +to self-reliance,—and our men are, at least, too busy for the trade of +tempters.</p> + +<p>In a word, this book was written for French people, and is adjusted to +the meridian of Paris. We must remember this always in reading it, and +also remember that a Frenchman does not think English any more than he +<i>talks</i> it. We sometimes flatter ourselves with the idea that we as a +people are original in our tendency to extravagance of thought and +language. It is a conceit of ours. Remember Sterne's <i>perruquier</i>.</p> + +<p>"'You may immerge it,' replied he, 'into the ocean, and it will stand.'</p> + +<p>"'What a great scale is everything upon, in this city!' thought I. 'The +utmost stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas could have gone no +farther than to have dipped it into a pail of water.'"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>How much such experiences as the following amount to we must leave to +the ecclesiastical bodies to settle.</p> + +<p>"The Church is openly against her, [woman,] owing her a grudge for the +sin of Eve."</p> + +<p>"It is very easy for us, educated in the religion of the indulgent God +of Nature, to look our common destiny in the face. But she, impressed +with the dogma of eternal punishment, though she may have received other +ideas from you, still, in her suffering and debility, has painful +foreshadowings of the future state."</p> + +<p>But here are physiological statements which we take the liberty to +question on our own responsibility.</p> + +<p>"A French girl of fifteen is as mature as an English one of eighteen." +What will Mr. Roberton of Manchester, who has exploded so many of our +fancies about the women of the East, say to this?</p> + +<p>"A wound, for which the German woman would require surgical aid, in the +French woman cures itself." We must say of such an unproved assertion as +the French General said of the charge at Balaklava,—"<i>C'est magnifique, +mais ce n'est pas la</i>"—<i>médecine</i>.</p> + +<p>"Generally, she [woman] is sick from love,—man, from indigestion." What +a pity Nature never makes such pretty epigrams with her facts as wits do +with their words!</p> + +<p>We have enough, too, of that self-assertion which Carlyle and Ruskin and +some of our clerical neighbors have made us familiar with, and which +gives flavor to a work of genius. "I was worth more than my writings, +more than my discourses. I brought to this teaching of philosophy and +history a soul as yet entire,—a great freshness of mind, under forms +often subtle,—a true simplicity of heart," etc.</p> + +<p>M. Michelet does not undervalue the importance of his work. He thinks he +has ruined the dancing-gardens by the startling revelations respecting +woman contained in his book. He announces a still greater triumph:—"I +believe I have effectually suppressed old women. They will no longer be +met with." M. Michelet has not seen the columns of some of our weekly +newspapers.</p> + +<p>These are scales from the husk of his book, which, with all its +fantasies, is a generous plea for woman. Wise persons may safely read +it, though they be not Parisians.</p> + +<p>The translation is, and is generally considered, excellent. We notice +two errors,—<i>Jerres</i>, instead of <i>Serres</i>,—and <i>would</i>, for <i>should</i>, +after the Scotch and Southern provincial fashion;—with some +questionable words, as <i>reliable</i>, for which we have Sir Robert Peel's +authority, which cannot make it as honest a word as +<i>trustworthy</i>,—<i>masculize</i>, which is at least intelligible,—and +<i>fast</i>, used as college-boys use it in their loose talk, but not with +the meaning which sober scholars are wont to give it. With these slight +exceptions, the translation appears to us singularly felicitous, +notwithstanding the task must have been very difficult, which Dr. Palmer +has performed with such rare success.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Farm-Drainage</i>. The Principles, Processes, and Effects of Draining +Land, with Wood, Stones, Ploughs, and Open Ditches, and especially with +Tiles; including Tables of Rainfall, Evaporation, Filtration, +Excavation, Capacity of Pipes; Cost, and Number to the Acre, of Tiles, +etc., etc.; and more than One Hundred Illustrations. By <span class='smcap'>Henry E. French</span>. +New York: A.O. Moore & Co. 1859. 8vo. pp. 384.</p> + +<p>We remember standing, thirty years ago, upon the cupola of a court-house +in New Jersey, and, while enjoying the whole panorama, being +particularly impressed with the superior fertility and luxuriance of one +farm on the outskirts of the town. We recollect further, that, on +inquiry, we found this farm to belong to a Judge of the Court of Common +Pleas, who also exercised the trade of a potter, and underdrained his +land with tile-drains. His neighbors attributed the improvement in his +farm to manure and tillage, and thought his attempts to introduce +tile-drains into use arose chiefly from his desire to make a market for +his tiles. Thirty years have made a great change; and a New Hampshire +Judge of the Court of Common Pleas gives us a book on Farm-Drainage +which tells us that in England twenty millions of dollars have been +loaned by the government to be used in underdraining with tile!</p> + +<p>We believe that Judge French has given the first practical guide in +draining to the American farmer,—indeed, the first book professing to +be a complete practical guide to the farmers of any country. His right +to speak is derived from successful experiments of his own, from a visit +to European agriculturists, and from a personal correspondence with the +best drainage-engineers of England and America, as well as from the +study of all available magazines and journals. No one could handle the +subject in a more pleasant and lucid style; flashes of wit, and even of +humor, are sparkling through every chapter, but they never divert the +mind of the reader from the main purpose of elucidating the subject of +deep drainage. The title-page does not promise so much as the book +performs; and we feel confident that its reputation will increase, as +our farmers begin to understand the true effects of deep drainage on +upland, and seek for a guide in the improvement of their farms.</p> + +<p>The rain-tables, furnished by Dr. E. Hobbs, of Waltham, afford some very +interesting statistics, by which our climate may be definitely compared +with that of our mother country. In England, they have about 156 rainy +days <i>per annum</i>, and we but 56. In England, one inch in 24 hours is +considered a great rain; but in New England six inches and seven-eighths +(6.88) has been known to fall in 24 hours. In England, the annual fall +is about 21,—in New England, 42 inches. The experiments on the +retention of water by the soil are also interesting; showing that +ordinary arable soil is capable of holding nearly six inches of water in +every foot of soil.</p> + +<p>Not the least valuable portion of the book is a brief discussion of some +of the legal questions connected with drainage; the rights of +land-owners in running waters, and in reference to the water in the +soil; the rights of mill-owners and water-power companies; and the +subject of flowage, by which so many thousand acres of valuable arable +land are ruined to support unprofitable manufacturing companies. The +rights of agriculturists, and the interests of agriculture, demand the +care of our governments, and the hearty aid of our scientific men; and +we are glad to find a judge who, at least when off the bench, speaks +sound words in their behalf.</p> + +<p>Agriculture in the Atlantic States is beginning to attract the attention +which its great importance demands. Thorough draining is, as yet, little +used among us, but a beginning has been made; and Judge French's book +will, doubtless, be of value in extension of the practice. If any reader +has not yet heard what thorough draining is, we would say, in brief, +that it consists in laying tile-pipes, from one and a half to three +inches in diameter, four feet under ground, at from twenty to sixty feet +apart, so inclined as to drain out of your ground all the water that may +be within three feet of the surface. This costs from $30 to $60 per +acre, and is in almost all kinds of arable land an excellent investment +of capital,—making the spring earlier, the land warmer, rain less +injurious, drought less severe, the crops better in quality and greater +in quantity. In short, thorough draining is, as our author says, +following Cromwell's advice, "trusting in Providence, but keeping the +powder dry."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>The Novels of James Fenimore Cooper.</i> Illustrated with Steel Engravings +from Drawings by Darley. New York: W.A. Townsend & Co.</p> + +<p>The British Museum, it is said, has accumulated over twenty-seven +thousand novels written since the publication of "Waverley." With the +general diffusion of education the ambition of authorship has had a +corresponding increase; and people who were not inspired to make rhymes, +nor learned enough to undertake history, philosophy, or science, as well +as those who despaired of success in essays, travels, or sermons, have +all thought themselves capable of representing human life in the form of +fiction. Very few of the twenty-seven thousand, probably, are wholly +destitute of merit. Each author has drawn what he saw, or knew, or did, +or imagined; and so has preserved something worthy, for those who live +upon his plane and see the world with his eyes. The difficulty is, that +the vision of most men is limited; they observe human nature only in a +few of its many aspects; they cannot so far lift themselves above the +trivial affairs around them as to take in the whole of humanity at a +glance. Even when rare types of character are presented to view, it is +only a genius who can for the time assimilate himself to them, and so +make their portraits life-like upon his canvas. In every old-fashioned +town there are models for new Dogberrys and Edie Ochiltrees; our +seaports have plenty of Bunsbys; every great city has its Becky Sharpe +and Major Pendennis. One has only to listen to a group of Irish laborers +in their unrestrained talk to find that the delicious <i>non sequitur,</i> +which is the charm of the grave-diggers' conversation in "Hamlet," is by +no means obsolete. But who can write such a colloquy? It would be +easier, we fancy, for a clever man to give a sketch of Lord Bacon, with +all his rapid and profound generalization, than to follow the slow and +tortuous mental processes of a clodhopper.</p> + +<p>To secure the attention of his readers, the novelist must construct a +plot and create the characters whose movements shall produce the +designed catastrophe, and, by the incidents and dialogue, exhibit the +passions, the virtues, the aspirations, the weaknesses, and the villany +of human nature. It is needless to say that most characters in fiction +are as shadowy as Ossian's ghosts; the proof is, that, when the +incidents of the story have passed out of memory, the persons are +likewise forgotten. Of all the popular novelists, not more than half a +dozen have ever created characters that survive,—characters that are +felt to be "representative men." After Shakspeare and Scott, Dickens +comes first, unquestionably; although, in analysis, philosophy, force, +and purity of style, he is far inferior to Thackeray. Parson Adams will +not be forgotten, nor that gentle monogamist, the good Vicar of +Wakefield. But as for Bulwer, notwithstanding his wonderful art in +construction and the brilliancy of his style, who remembers a character +out of his novels, unless it be Doctor Riccabocca?</p> + +<p>After this rather long preamble, let us hasten to say, that Cooper, in +spite of many and the most obvious faults, has succeeded in portraying a +few characters which stand out in bold relief,—and that his works, +after years of criticism and competition, still hold their place, on +both continents, among the most delightful novels in the language. Other +writers have appeared, with more culture, with more imagination, with +more spiritual insight, with more attractiveness of style; but +Leatherstocking, in the virgin forest, with the crafty, painted savage +retreating before him, and the far-distant hum of civilization following +his trail, is a creation which no reader ever can or would forget,—a +creation for which the merely accomplished writer would gladly exchange +all the fine sentences and word-pictures that he had ever put on paper. +It is also due to Cooper to say, that "The Pilot" was the first, and +still is the best, of nautical novels; we say this in fell recollection +of its trace of stupid heroines. The very air of the book is salt. As +you read, you hear the wind in the rigging,—a sound that one never +forgets. The form and motion of waves, the passing of distant ships, the +outlines of spars and cordage against the sky, the blue above and the +blue below, all the scenery of the sea, here for the first time found an +appreciative artist.</p> + +<p>We have not space to mention these novels separately. We are glad to see +an edition which is worthy of the author's genius,—each volume graced +with the designs of Darley. The style in which the work has been issued +is creditable to the publishers, and cannot fail to be remunerative.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Ettore Fieramosca; or, the Challenge of Barletta</i>. The Struggles of an +Italian against Foreign Invaders and Foreign Protectors. By <span class='smcap'>Massimo D' +Azeglio</span>. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 16mo.</p> + +<p>The recent war led to the publication of a great number of books upon +the state of Italy and the relative positions of the contending powers; +now that the wave has receded, all these are left high and dry. This +novel, however, does not depend upon any transient interest in the +affairs of Italy for its success. As the production of an eminent +author, who is also one of the first of Italian statesmen, it demands a +respectful consideration. The condition of the country in the sixteenth +century presents a striking counterpart to that of the present year: two +foreign monarchs were at war in the Peninsula; and then, as now, it was +a question whether unhappy Italy had not as much to fear from her allies +as from her invaders.</p> + +<p>The scene of the story is laid in the little town of Barletta, on the +Adriatic coast, in the present kingdom of Naples. The action turns upon +the fortunes of the day in a contest <i>à l'outrance</i>, wherein a dozen +French knights, the flower of the invading army, were met and vanquished +by an equal number of Italians, of whom the hero, Ettore Fieramosca, was +the chief. The English reader will not expect to find in this book any +of the traits with which he is familiar in the novels of our own +authors. There is little scenery-painting, few wayside reflections, and +no attempt at portraying the comic side of human nature, or even the +ordinary gayety of domestic life. The times did not suggest such topics; +and if they did, we suspect that the Italian novelists would turn from +such commonplace affairs to the more stirring events with which History +has been heretofore concerned. But the story before us has no lack of +incident. When the persons of the drama are fairly brought upon the +stage, the action begins at once; surprise follows surprise, plot is +matched by plot, until the fortunes of the actors are entwined +inextricably. The portraits of the famous Colonna and of the infamous +Cæsar Borgia (the latter being the arch "villain" of the story) are +drawn in sharp and decisive lines. The tournament which forms the scene +of the catastrophe is a brilliant picture, though not a pleasing one for +a Friend or a member of the Peace Society.</p> + +<p>Of course the element of Love is not wanting; two golden threads run +through the crimsoned web; but whether they meet before Atropos comes +with the fatal shears, it is not best to say. When the modern +novel-reader can answer the momentous question, "Did they marry?" the +charm of the most exciting story, for him, is gone.</p> + +<p>Aside from the interest which one feels in the changing fortunes of the +hero, the book is especially valuable for the light it throws upon that +period of Italian history, and upon the subtilties of Italian character.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="PUBLICATIONS" id="PUBLICATIONS" /><span class='smcap'>Recent American Publications.</span></h3> + + +<p>The Goodness of God. Sermons by Charles Kingsley. New York. Burt, +Hutchinson, & Abbey. 12mo. pp. 370. $1.00.</p> + +<p>Theodore Parker's Experience as a Minister; with some Account of his +Early Life and Education for the Ministry. Contained in a Letter from +him to the Members of the Twenty-Eighth Congregationalist Society of +Boston. Boston. Rufus Leighton, Jr. 16mo. pp. 182. 50 cts.</p> + +<p>The Roman Question. By E. About. Translated from the French, by H.C. +Coape. New York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 219. 60 cts.</p> + +<p>Tent and Harem. Notes of an Oriental Trip. By Caroline Paine. New York. +D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 300. $1.00.</p> + +<p>The French Revolution of 1789, as viewed in the Light of Republican +Institutions. By J.S.C. Abbott. With One Hundred Engravings. New York. +Harper & Brothers. 8vo. pp. 439. $2.50.</p> + +<p>Popular Tales from the Norse. By George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L. With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 379. $1.00.</p> + +<p>Personal Recollections of the American Revolution. A Private Journal. +Prepared from Authentic Domestic Records. Together with Reminiscences of +Washington and Lafayette. Edited by Sidney Barclay. New York. Rudd & +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 251. $1.00.</p> + +<p>Hartley Norman. A Tale of the Times. By Allen Hampden. New York. 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Edited by Lady Shelley. To +which is added an Essay on Christianity, by Percy Bysshe Shelley: now +first Printed. Boston. Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 308. 75 cts.</p> + +<p>Sparks from a Locomotive; or, Life and Liberty in Europe. By the Author +of "Belle Brittan." New York. Derby & Jackson. 12mo. pp. 305. $1.00.</p> + +<p>The Life of General Garibaldi. Written by Himself. With Sketches of his +Companions in Arms. Translated by his Friend and Admirer, Theodore +Dwight. Embellished with a Fine Portrait, engraved on Steel. New York. +A.S. Barnes & Burr. 12mo. pp. 820. $1.00.</p> + +<p>Ettore Fieramosca; or, The Challenge of Barletta. The Struggles of an +Italian against Foreign Invaders and Foreign Protectors. By Massimo +d'Azeglio. Boston. Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 16mo. pp. 356. $1.00.</p> + +<p>Idyls of the King. By Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet Laureate. Boston. +Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. pp. 227. 75 cts.</p> + +<p>Lectures for the People. By the Rev. 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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 4, No. 23, September, 1859 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 4, 2005 [EBook #16430] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Jon +King and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. IV.--SEPTEMBER, 1859.--NO. XXIII. + + + + +THE LIFE AND WORKS OF ARY SCHEFFER. + + +No painter of this age has made so deep an impression on the popular +mind of America as Ary Scheffer. Few, if any other contemporary artists +are domesticated at our firesides, and known and loved in our remotest +villages and towns. Only a small number, indeed, of his original works +have been exhibited here,--yet engravings from them are not only +familiar to every person of acknowledged taste and culture, but are dear +to the hearts of many who scarcely know the artist's name. Young maidens +delight in their tender pathos, and the suffering heart is consoled and +elevated by their pure and lofty religious aspiration. An effect so +great must have an adequate and peculiar cause; and we shall not have +far to seek for it, but shall find it in the aim and character of the +artist. Scheffer has two prominent qualities, by which he has won his +place in the popular estimation. The first is his sentiment. His works +are full of simple, tender pathos. His pictures always tell their story, +first to the eye, next to the heart and soul of the beholder. His +admirable knowledge of composition is always subordinate to expression. +His meaning is not merely historical or poetical, but is true to life +and every-day experience. "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie" is felt and +appreciated by those who have never sung, + + "Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen + bluehen,"-- + +and "Faust" and "Margaret" tell their story to all who have felt life's +struggles and temptations, whether they have read them in Goethe's +version or not. Added to this power of pathos and sentiment is the deep +religious feeling which pervades every work of his pencil, whatever be +its outward form. His religion is of no dogma or sect, but the inflowing +of a life which makes all things holy and full of infinite meaning. +Whether he paint the legends of the Catholic Church, as in "St. +Augustine" and "St. Monica," or illustrate the life-poem of the +Protestant Goethe, or tell a simple story of childhood, the same +feelings are kindled, in our heart's faith in God, love to man, the sure +hope of immortality. It is this genuine and earnest religion of humanity +which has made his works familiar to every lover of Art and sentiment, +and given us a feeling of personal love and reverence for the made +artist. + +It is now nearly a year since his labors on earth terminated, and yet no +adequate account of his life and labors has appeared. It is very +difficult to satisfy the craving desire to know more of the personal +life and character of him who has been a household friend so long. Yet +it is rather the privilege of succeeding generations, than of +contemporaries, to draw aside the veil from the sanctuary, and to behold +the works of a man in his greatest art,--the art of life. But the cold +waters of the Atlantic, like the river of Death, make the person of a +European artist sacred to us; and it is hard for us to realize that +those whom we have surrounded with a halo of classic reverence were +partakers of the daily jar and turmoil of our busy age,--that the good +physician who tended our sick children so faithfully had lived in +familiar intercourse with Goethe, and might have listened to the first +performance of those symphonies of Beethoven which seem to us as eternal +as the mountains. Losing the effluence of his personal presence, which +his neighbors and countrymen enjoyed, we demand the privilege of +posterity to hear and tell all that can be told of him. We can wait +fifty years more for a biography of Allston, because something of his +gracious presence yet lingers among us; but we can touch Scheffer only +with the burin or the pen. So we shall throw in our mite to fill up this +chasm. A few gleanings from current French literature, a few anecdotes +familiarly told of the great artist, and the vivid recollection of one +short interview are all the aids we can summon to enable our readers to +call up in their own minds a living image which will answer to the name +that has so long been familiar to our lips and dear to our hearts. + +Ary Scheffer was born about the year 1795, in the town of Dordrecht, in +Holland; but, as at that period Holland belonged to the French Empire, +the child was entitled by birth to those privileges of a French citizen +which opened to him important advantages in his artistic career. French +by this accident of birth, and still more so by his education and long +residence at Paris, he yet always retained traces of his Teutonic origin +in the form of his head, in his general appearance, and in his earnest +and religious character. He always cherished a warm affection for his +native land. + +Many distinguished artists have been the sons of painters or designers +of superior note. Raffaello, Albert Duerer, Alonzo Cano, Vandyck, Luca +Giordano are familiar instances. It seems as if the accumulation of two +generations of talent were necessary to produce the fine flower of +genius. The father of Ary Scheffer was an artist of considerable +ability, and promised to become an eminent painter, when he was cut off +by an early death. He left a widow, many unfinished pictures, and three +sons, yet very young. The character of the mother we infer only from her +influence on her son, from the devoted affection he bore to her, and +from the wisdom with which she guided his early education; but these +show her to have been a true woman,--brave, loving, and always loyal to +the highest. The three sons all lived to middle age, and all became +distinguished men. Ary, the eldest, very early gave unequivocal signs of +his future destiny. His countrymen still remember a large picture +painted by him at Amsterdam when only twelve years old, indicating +extraordinary talent, even at that early age. His mother did not, +however, overrate this boyish success, as stamping him a prodigy, but +regarded it only as a motive for giving him a thorough artistic +education. He went, accordingly, to Paris, and entered the _atelier_ of +Guerin, the teacher then most in vogue. + +It was in the latter days of the Empire that Ary Scheffer commenced his +studies,--a period of great stagnation in Art. The whole force of the +popular mind had for many years been turned to politics and war; and if +French Art had striven to emancipate itself from slavish dependence on +the Greek, it still clung to the Roman models, which are far less +inspiring. "The autocrat David, with his correct, but soulless +compositions, was more absolute than his master, the Emperor." Only in +the Saloon of 1819 did the Revolution, which had already affected every +other department of thought and life, reach the _ateliers_. It commenced +in that of Guerin. The very weakness of the master, who himself halted +between two opinions, left the pupils in freedom to pursue their own +course. Scheffer did not esteem this a fortunate circumstance for +himself. His own nature was too strong and living to be crushed by a +severe master or exact study, and he felt the want of that thorough +early training which would have saved him much struggle in after life. +He used to speak of Ingres as such a teacher as he would have chosen for +himself. From the pupil of David, the admirer of Michel Angelo, the +conservator of the sacred traditions of Art, the student might learn all +the treasured wisdom of antiquity,--while the influences around him, and +his own genius, would impel him towards prophesying the hope of the +future. His favorite companions of the _atelier_ at this time were +Eugene Delacroix and Gericault. Delacroix ranks among the greatest +living French artists; and if death early closed the brilliant career of +Gericault, it has not yet shrouded his name in oblivion. The trio made +their first appearance together in the Saloon of 1819. Gericault sent +his "Wreck of the Medusa," Delacroix "The Barque of Dante," and Ary +Scheffer "The Citizens of Calais."[1] + +The works of these friends may be considered as the commencement of the +modern French school of Art, still so little known, and so ill +appreciated by us, but which is really an expression of the new ideas of +Art and Humanity which have agitated France to its centre for half a +century. Their hour of triumph has not yet come; but as the poet sings +most touchingly of his love, neither when he rejoices in its happy +consummation, nor in the hour of utter despair, but when doubt still +tempers hope,--so does the artist labor with prophetic zeal to express +those sentiments of humanity and brotherhood which are not yet organized +into institutions. A careless eye might have perceived little departure +from the old models in these pictures, but a keener one would have +already discovered that Scheffer and his friends worked with a different +aim from that of their predecessors. Not merely to paint a well-composed +picture on a classical theme, but to give expression to thought and +feeling, was now the object. "The Wreck of the Medusa" of Gericault is +full of earnest, if niggling life. Delacroix has followed his own bent +with such independent zeal as has made him the object of intense +admiration to some, of bitter hatred to others. But Ary Scheffer has +taken his rank at the head of the Spiritualist school, and has awakened +a wider love and obtained a fuller appreciation than either of them. The +spirit which found in them its first expression is continually +increasing in power, and developing into richer life. The living artists +of France are the exponents of her genuine Christian democracy. + +"The entire collection of Rosa Bonheur's works," says a French writer, +"might be called the Hymn to Labor. Here she shows us the ploughing, +there the reaping, farther on the gathering in of the hay, then of the +harvests, elsewhere the vintage,--always and everywhere labor." Edouard +Frere, in his scenes from humble life, which the skilful lithographer +places within the means of all, represents the incidents of domestic +existence among the poor. "The Prayer at the Mother's Knee," "The Woman +at her Ironing Table," "The Child shelling Peas," "The Walk to School +amid Rain and Sleet," are all charming idyls of every-day life. With yet +greater skill and deeper pathos does the peasant Millet tell the story +of his neighbors. The washerwomen, as the sun sets upon their labors, +and they go wearily homeward; the digger, at his lonely task, who can +pause but an instant to wipe the sweat from his brow; the sewing-women +bending over their work, while every nerve and muscle are strained by +the unremitting toil; the girl tending her geese; the woman her +cows:--such are the subjects of his masterly pencil. Do not all these +facts point to the realization of Christian democracy? If the king is +now but the servant of the people, so the artist who is royal in the +kingdom of the mind finds his true glory in serving humanity. What a +change from the classic subjects or monkish legends which occupied the +pencils of David and his greater predecessors, Le Sueur and Poussin! + +And yet those students of the antique have done French Art good service; +they have furnished it with admirable tools, so that to them we are +indebted for the thorough drawing, the masterly knowledge, which render +Paris the great school for all beginners in Art. Such men as we have +named do not scorn the past, but use it in the service of the present. +While Scheffer always subordinated the material part of Art to its +expression, he was never afraid of knowing too much, but often regretted +the loss of valuable time in youth from incompetent instruction. + +Encouraged by the success of his first essay, Scheffer continued to +paint a series of small pictures, representing simple and affecting +scenes from common life, some of which are familiar to all. "The +Soldier's Widow," "The Conscript's Return," "The Orphans at their +Mother's Tomb," "The Sister of Charity," "The Fishermen before a Storm," +"The Burning of the Farm," and "The Scene of the Invasion in 1814," are +titles which give an idea of the range of his subjects and the tenor of +his thoughts at this time. The French have long excelled in the art of +composition. It is this quality which gives the greatest value to the +works of Le Sueur and Poussin. Scheffer possessed this power in a +remarkable degree, but it was united to a directness and truth of +feeling which made his art the perfection of natural expression. A very +charming little engraving, entitled "The Lost Children," which appeared +in "The Token" for 1830, is probably from a picture of this period. A +little boy and girl are lost in a wood. Wearied with their fruitless +attempts to find a path, the boy has at length sunk down upon a log and +buried his face in his hands; while the little girl, still patient, +still hopeful, stands, with folded hands, looking earnestly into the +wood, with a sweet, sad look of anxiety, but not of despair. The +contrast in the expression of the two figures is very touching and very +true to Nature;--the boy was hopeful so long as his own exertions +offered a chance of escape, but the courage of the girl appears when +earthly hope is most dim and faint. The sweet unconsciousness of this +early picture has hardly been surpassed by any subsequent work. +"Naturalness and the charm of composition," says a French critic, "are +the secrets of Scheffer's success in these early pictures, to which may +be added a third,--the distinction of the type of his faces, and +especially of his female heads,--a kind of suave and melancholy ideal, +which gave so new a stamp to his works." + +These small pictures were very successful in winning popular favor; but +this success, far from intoxicating the young artist, only opened his +eyes to his own faults. He applied himself diligently to repairing the +deficiencies which he recognized in his work, by severe studies and +labors. He knew the danger of working too long on small-sized pictures, +in which faults may be so easily hidden. About the year 1826 he turned +resolutely from his "pretty jewels," as he called them, and commenced +his "Femmes Suliotes," on a large canvas, with figures the size of life. +M. Vitet describes the appearance of the canvas when Scheffer had +already spent eight days "in the fire of his first thought." It seemed +to him rather like a vision than a picture, as he saw the dim outlines +of those heroic women, who cast themselves from the rock to escape +slavery by death. He confesses that the finished picture never moved him +as did the sketch. Three years earlier Scheffer had sent to the Saloon +of 1824, in company with three or four small pictures, a large picture +of Gaston de Foix after the Battle of Ravenna. It was a sombre picture, +painted with that lavish use of pigment and that unrestrained freedom +which distinguished the innovators of that day. The new school were in +raptures, and claimed Scheffer as belonging to them. The public judged +less favorably; "they admired the noble head of Gaston de Foix, but, +uninterested in the remainder of the picture, they turned off to look at +'The Soldier's Widow.'" Scheffer did not listen to his flatterers; but, +remembering Michel Angelo's words to the young sculptor, "The light of +the public square will test its value," he believed in the verdict of +the people, and never again painted in the same manner. It was one of +his peculiar merits, that, although open to conviction, and ready to try +a new path which seemed to offer itself, he was also ready to turn from +it when he found it leading him astray. "Les Femmes Suliotes" did not +seem to have been designed by the same hand or with the same pencil as +the "Gaston de Foix." The first sketch was particularly +pleasing,--already clear and harmonious in color, although rather low in +tone. Many counselled him to leave the picture, thus. "No," said +Scheffer, "I did not take a large canvas merely to increase the size of +my figures and to paint large in water-colors, but to give greater truth +and thoroughness to my forms." In 1827 this picture was exhibited with +ample success, and the critics were forced to acknowledge the great +improvement in his style, although he had not entirely escaped from the +influence of his companions, and some violent contrasts of color mar the +general effect. The picture is now in the Luxembourg Gallery. + +M. Vitet divides Scheffer's artistic life into three portions: that in +which he painted subjects from simple life; that devoted to poetic +subjects; and the last, or distinctively religious period. These +divisions cannot, of course, be very sharply drawn, but may help us to +understand the progress of his mind; and "Les Femmes Suliotes" will mark +the transition from the first to the second period. Turning from the +simple scenes of domestic sorrow, he now sought inspiration in +literature. The vigorous and hearty Northern Muse especially won his +favor; yet the greatest Italian poet was also his earnest study. Goethe, +Schiller, Byron, Dante, all furnished subjects for his pencil. The story +of Faust and Margaret took such hold of his imagination that it pursued +him for nearly thirty years. Their forms appeared before him in new +attitudes and situations almost to his last hour, so that, in the midst +of his labors on religious pictures, he seized his pencils to paint yet +another Faust, another Margaret. Nor can we wonder at this absorbing +interest, when we reflect on the profound significance and touching +pathos of this theme, which may wear a hundred faces, and touch every +chord of the human heart. It is intellect and passion, in contrast with +innocence and faith; it is natural and spontaneous love, thwarted by +convention and circumstance; it is condemnation before men, and +forgiveness before God; it is the ideal and the worldly; it is an +epitome of human life,--love, joy, sorrow, sin,--birth, life, death, and +the sure hope of resurrection. How pregnant with expression was it to a +mind like Scheffer's, where the intellectual, the affectional, and the +spiritual natures were so nicely blended! He first painted "Margaret at +her Wheel," in 1831,--accompanied by a "Faust tormented by Doubt." These +were two simple heads, each by itself, like a portrait, but with all the +fine perception of character which constitutes an ideal work. Next he +painted "Margaret at Church." Here other figures fill up the canvas; but +the touching expression of the young girl, whose soul is just beginning +to be torn by the yet new joy of her love and the bitter consciousness +of her lost innocence, fills the mind of the spectator. This is the +most inspired and the most touching of all the pictures; it strikes the +key-note of the whole story; it is the meeting of the young girl's own +ideal world of pure thought with the outward world. The sense of guilt +comes from the reflection in the thoughts of those about her; and where +all before was peace and love, now come discord and agony;--she has +eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and is already cast out +of her paradise. "Margaret on the Sabbath," "Margaret going out of +Church," and "Margaret walking in the Garden," are all charming idyls, +but have less expression. The last picture, painted just before +Scheffer's death, and soon to be engraved, represents "Margaret at the +Fountain." "It is full of expression, and paints the joy and pain of +love still struggling in the young girl's heart, while conscience begins +to make its chiding voice heard." + +The "Mignons" are the best known of all Scheffer's works of this period. +The youngest one, "Mignon regrettant sa Patrie," is the most +satisfactory in its simple, unconscious expression. The wonderful child +stands in the most natural attitude, absorbed in her own thought, and +struggling to recall those dim memories, floating in beauty before her +mind, which seem almost to belong to a previous state of existence. +There is less of the weird and fantastic than Goethe has given to +her,--but the central, deep nature is beautifully reproduced. "Mignon +aspirant au Ciel," although full of spiritual beauty, is a little more +constrained; the longing after her heavenly home is less naturally +expressed than her childish regret; the pose is a little mannered; and +the feeling is more conscious, but less deep. "Mignon with the Old +Harper" is far less interesting; the old man's head does not express +that mixture of inspiration and insanity, the result of a life of love, +misery, and wrong, which Goethe has portrayed in this strange character. + +A very different picture, painted at this period, is peculiarly +interesting to us as our first acquaintance among Scheffer's works. An +excellent copy or duplicate of it belongs to the Boston Athenaeum. The +original is in the Luxembourg at Paris. The subject is taken from +Schiller's ballad of "Count Eberhard." After the victory in which his +son has fallen, though the old Count has said to those who would have +paused to mourn his death, "My son is like another man; on, comrades, to +the foe!"--yet now he sits alone in his tent and looks upon the dead +body of his child. The silent grief of the stern old man is very +touching. This sorrow, so contrary to Nature, when old age stands by the +grave of youth, always moves the deepest feeling; and Scheffer, in the +noble old man and the brave and beautiful boy before him, has given it +its simplest and most appropriate expression. This picture was painted +in 1834. At that period Scheffer was engaged in some experiments in +color, and this sad subject led him to employ the dark tints of +Rembrandt. In 1850 he painted a duplicate of it, lighter and more +agreeable in tone. He painted "The Giaour" and "Medora," from Byron, +which pictures we have never seen. The wayward and morbid Muse of the +English Lord does not seem to us a fit inspiration for the pure pencil +of Scheffer. + +The well-known composition of "Francesca da Rimini" may well conclude +our brief notice of the pictures of this second epoch. M. Vitet regards +it as the most harmonious and complete of all his works; but we think it +has taken less hold on the popular heart than the "Mignons" and +"Margaret." Yet it is a work of great skill and beauty. The difficult +theme is managed with that moderation and good taste which recognize the +true limits of the art. The crowd of spirits which Dante so powerfully +describes as driven by the wind without rest are only dimly seen in the +background. The horrors of hell are shown only in the anguish of those +faces, in the despairing languor of the attitude, which not even mutual +love can lighten. The love which made them one in guilt, one in +condemnation, is stronger than death, stronger than hell; but it cannot +bring peace and joy to these souls shut out from heaven and God. + + "Se fosse amico il Re dell' universo, + Noi pregheremmo." + +But even prayer is denied to him who feels that he has not God for a +friend. There is no mark of physical torture; it is pure spiritual +suffering,--restless, aimless weariness,--the loss of hope; it is +death,--and love demands life. How strangely appropriate is this +punishment of spirits driven hither and thither by the winds, with no +hope of rest, to those who reject the firm anchorage of duty and +principle, and allow themselves to float at the mercy of their impulses +and passions! The overpowering compassion and sympathy of the poets is +shown in their earnest faces. Neither here, nor in the well-known "Dante +and Beatrice," which is too familiar to need description, does Scheffer +quite do justice to our ideal of the sublime poet of Heaven and Hell; +but neither do the portraits which remain of him. The picture was first +exhibited in 1835. As it had suffered very much in 1850, Scheffer +painted a repetition of it, with a few slight alterations, in which, +however, his progress in his art during twenty years was very evident. +This copy is very far superior to the engraving. + +About this period Scheffer seems to have wandered a little from the true +mission of Art, and to have esteemed it her province to represent +abstract theological truths. His religious feeling seems to have become +morbid, and his natural melancholy intensified. The death of his wife, +and consequent loneliness, may have given this ascetic tinge to his +feelings. But we must acknowledge, if it were so, that the sorrow which +oppressed did not embitter his heart, and that a brave and humane spirit +appears even in those works which have the least artistic merit to +recommend them. The "Christus Consolator" is the best known of this +class of pictures. It is cold, abstract, and inharmonious; but its +religious spirit and the beautiful truth which it expresses have won for +it a welcome which it seems hardly to merit. Yet it has touching beauty +in the separate figures. The woman who leans so trustingly on her +Saviour's arm has a very high and holy face, whose type we recognize in +more than one of his pictures; and the mother and her dead child form a +very touching group. But the various persons are not connected by any +common story or mutual relation, and we feel a want of unity in the +whole work. Perhaps the strongest tribute to its power of expression is +the story, that religious publishers found it necessary to blot out the +figure of the slave who takes his place among the recipients of Christ's +blessing, in order to fit their reprint for a Southern market. As a +companion to it, he painted the "Christus Remunerator," which is less +interesting. To this same class of pictures we should probably refer +"The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven," which we have never seen, but +which is thus described by M. Anatole de la Lorge:-- + +"There are also treasures of disappointed pleasure and of bitterness in +this picture of 'The Lamentations of Earth to Heaven,'--dim symbol of +human suffering. How does one, in the presence of this poem, feel filled +with the spirit of St. Augustine, the nothingness of what we call joy, +happiness, glory, here below,--delights of a moment, which at most only +aid us to traverse in a dream this valley of tears! Certain pages of +'The City of God,' funeral prayers of Bossuet, can alone serve us for a +comparison, in order to express the effect produced upon those who have +visited this _chef d'oeuvre_ in Ary Scheffer's _atelier_. Before +producing it, the artist must have thought long, suffered long; for each +stroke of the pencil seems to hide a grief, each figure speaks to you in +passing, and utters a complaint, a sigh, a prayer,--sad echoes of the +despair of life! The religious tendency of the thinker is here fully +shown; his poetic sympathy, his aspirations, his dreams, have found a +free course. We must mark, also, with what freedom his lamentations +spring from the ground, to carry even to the feet of the Creator the +overwhelming weight of earthly woe. Ary Scheffer's picture is like the +epitaph destined some day for the obsequies of the world; it breathes of +death, and has the sombre harmony of the Miserere. And nevertheless,--a +strange thing!--this dreaming painter, who seizes and afflicts us, is +the same man who at the same time reassures and consoles us,--without +doubt, because by dint of spiritualizing our thoughts he raises them +above our sufferings, by showing the consoling light of eternity to +those whom he would sever from the deceitful joys of earth." + +If the picture be not overcolored by the critic's eye, we must believe +this to be the culmination of the morbidly spiritualistic tendency which +we meet in Scheffer's works. Yet it never exists unrelieved by redeeming +qualities. Many will remember the original picture of the "Dead Christ," +which was exhibited here by an Art Union about ten years ago. The +engraving gives but a faint idea of the touching expression of the whole +group. The deathly pallor of the corpse was in strange harmony with the +face of the mother which bent over it, her whole being dissolved in +grief and love. No picture of this scene recalls to us more fully the +simple account in the Gospels. The cold, wan color of the whole scene +seems like that gray pall which a public grief will draw across the sky, +even when the meridian sun is shining in its glory. We have seen such +days even in Boston. No wonder that darkness covered the land to the +believing disciples even until the ninth hour. + +His "St. Monica," which appeared in 1846, met with great success. "Ruth +and Naomi" is yet unknown to us, but it seems to be a subject specially +adapted to his powers. Of those works which he produced within the last +twelve years, very few are yet engraved. When thus placed before the +public, we believe the popular estimate of Scheffer will be raised even +higher than at present. + +His pictures of Christ are of very superior merit. His representation of +the person of Jesus was not formal and conventional, but fresh in +expression and feeling, and full of touching pathos and sentiment. He +has neither the youthful beauty with which the Italians represent him, +nor the worn and wasted features which the early Germans often gave him, +but a thoughtful, earnest, tender beauty. The predominant expression is +the love and tenderness born of suffering. Three of his finest +representations of the life of Jesus of Nazareth are, "The Christ +weeping over Jerusalem," the "Ecce Homo," and "The Temptation." The last +is as original in design and composition; it is noble in expression. The +two figures stand on the summit of a mountain, and the calm, still air +around them gives a wonderful sense of height and solitude. You almost +feel the frost of the high, rare atmosphere. Satan is a very powerful +figure,--not the vulgar devil, but the determined will, the unsanctified +power. The figure of Christ is simple and expressive,--even the flow of +the drapery being full of significance and beauty. Another composition +of great beauty represents a group of souls rising from earth, and +soaring upwards to heaven. The highest ones are already rejoicing in the +heavenly light, while those below seem scarcely awakened from the sleep +of death. The whole picture is full of aspiration; everything seems +mounting upwards. + +Scheffer also painted a few pictures which can hardly be called his own. +Such are "The Battle of Tolbiac," and "Charlemagne dictating his +Statutes." These were painted by the command of Louis Philippe, who was +his constant friend and patron. The young princes were his pupils; and +Scheffer was careful to form them to better taste than that of the +citizen monarch who has lined Versailles with poor pictures. For the +King he painted "The Battle of Tolbiac," and we can only regret the time +which was thus wasted; _but for his pupils_ he designed "Francesca da +Rimini" and the "Mignons." + +A few masterly portraits by Scheffer's hand indicate his power of +reproducing individual character. Among these we may name that of his +mother, which is said to be his finest work,--one of the Queen,--a +picture of Lamennais,--and another of Emilia Manin, to which we shall +again refer. He occasionally modelled a bust, and sometimes engaged in +literary labor, contributing some valuable articles on Art to "La Revue +Francaise." + +It would be impossible for us to analyze or even enumerate all of +Scheffer's works. They are scattered throughout France and Holland, and +a few have found their way to this country. Most of the engravings from +his pictures are too well known to require description; and we feel that +we have said enough to justify our placing Scheffer in the high rank +which we claim for him. Engravings give us a juster idea of the French +than of the Dutch or Italian artists; for their merit is rather in +design and composition than in color. We agree with M. Vitet, that color +need not be a prominent excellence in a work of high spiritual beauty, +and that it should always be toned to a complete harmony with the +prevailing feeling of the picture. In this aspect we look upon the cold +color of the "Dead Christ" as hardly a defect; it is in keeping with the +sad solemnity of the scene. But if color should not be so brilliant as +to overpower the expression of form and sentiment, still less should it +be so inharmonious as to distract the mind from it, as is sometimes the +case with Scheffer. The "Dante and Beatrice" is a familiar instance. We +can see no reason why Beatrice should be dressed in disagreeable pink, +and Dante in brick-red. Surely, such color is neither agreeable to the +eye nor harmonious with the expression of the scene. This defect in +color has led many to prefer the engravings to Scheffer's original +pictures; but no copy can quite reproduce the nice touches of thought +and feeling given by the master's hand. Color is supposed by many to +belong mainly to the representation of physical beauty; but has not +Allston proved to us that the most subtile and delicate harmonies of +color may be united with ethereal grace and spiritual beauty? Compare +his "Beatrice" with that of Scheffer. But, in truth, the whole spiritual +relation of color is yet but dimly understood; and there are, perhaps, +influences in the climate and organization of the French nation which +have rendered them inferior in this department of Art. Allowing this +deduction--a great one, certainly,--still, if the expression of the +highest thoughts in the most beautiful forms be the true aim of Art, +Scheffer must rank among the very first painters of his age. Delaroche +may surpass him in strength and vigor of conception, and in thorough +modelling and execution; but Scheffer has taken a deeper hold of the +feelings, and has risen into a higher spiritual region. + +It has been reproachfully said that Scheffer is the painter for pretty +women, for poets, and for lovers. The reproach is also a eulogium, since +he must thus meet the demand of the human soul in its highest and finest +development. Others have accused him of morbid sensibility. There is +reason for the charge. He has not the full, round, healthy, development +which belongs to the perfect type of Art. Compare the "St. Cecilia" of +Scheffer--this single figure, with such womanly depth of feeling, such +lofty inspiration, yet so sad--with the joyous and almost girlish grace +of Raphael's representation of the same subject, and we feel at once the +height and the limitation of Scheffer's genius. There is always pathos, +always suffering; we cannot recall a single subject, unless it be the +group of rising spirits, in which struggle and sorrow do not form the +key-note. + + "In all your music, one pathetic minor + Your ears shall cross; + And all fair sights shall mind you of diviner, + With sense of loss." + +This is one view of human life, but it is a transitional and imperfect +one,--neither that of the first healthy unconsciousness of childhood, +nor of the full consciousness of a soul which has risen to that height +of divine wisdom which feels the meaning of all suffering, of all life. +The music of Beethoven expresses the struggle, the contest, the +sufferings of humanity, as Art has never done before; but it always +contains an eternal prophecy, rather than a mournful regret,--and in the +last triumphant symphony it swells onward and upward, until at last it +bursts forth in all the freedom and gush of song, and its theme is "The +Hymn to Joy." How much the fatherless home of Scheffer's childhood, how +much his own desolated life, when his beloved companion was so early +taken from his side, may have had to do with this melancholy cast of +thought, or how far it belonged to his delicate physical constitution, +we are not prepared to say. It becomes less prominent in his later +compositions, "as faith became stronger and sight clearer"; and perhaps +in those pictures yet unknown to us we may find still brighter omens of +the new life of rest and joy into which he has entered. + +If we turn from Scheffer's works to his life, our task is no less +grateful and pleasing. The admiration and affection which his countrymen +express for his character surpass even what they feel for his works. He +was a noble, generous, active, benevolent friend of humanity. He gave +freely to all who were in need, counsel, money, advice, personal care, +and love. Young artists found him ever ready to help them. "He gave +them," says M. Vitet, "home, _atelier_, material, sympathy,--whatever +they needed." Another writer, M. Anatole de la Lorge, said of him, while +yet living,--"Ary Scheffer has the rare good luck not to be exclusive. +His heart can pity every suffering as fully as his pencil can portray +it. A faithful and intimate friend of a now fallen dynasty, (that of +Orleans,) proud, even distrustful towards men in power, indifferent to +their opinion, inaccessible to their offers, Ary Scheffer, in his +original individuality, is one of the most independent and most +honorable political men of our country. His studio is the rendezvous of +all opinions, provided they are honest,--of all religions, provided they +are sincere. There each one is received, not according to the habit +which he wears, as the ancient proverb says, but according to the mind +(_esprit_) which he has shown. We say mind, but it is heart that we +should say; for Ary Scheffer seems to us to estimate the latter more +highly than the former. His whole life proves it." Always an ardent +friend of liberty, he was also a lover of law and order, and he rendered +good service in their preservation in the capital during the Revolution +of 1848, for which, he received honorable distinction. + +The same writer quoted above gives an interesting description of his +meeting with Ary Scheffer in the sick-room and by the death-bed of an +Italian refugee, Emilia Manin. A young Venetian girl, full of devotion +to her country and her proscribed father, she supported her exile with +all a woman's courage, buoyed up by the hope of returning to her +country, redeemed from its misery. She is described as possessing +extraordinary powers of mind and great beauty of person. There were no +questions, however sublime or abstract, which she did not treat with a +surprising depth and sagacity. "Her speech, ordinarily timid and feeble, +became emphatic and stirring; her great, dreamy eyes suddenly acquired +unequalled energy; she spoke of the misfortunes of her country in terms +so moving as to draw tears from our eyes." But the body which contained +this burning soul was very frail, "and the poor Emilia, the silent +martyr, turned her head upon her pillow, and took her first hour of +repose. When no longer able to speak, she had traced with a trembling +hand on a paper these last words,--'Oh, Venice! I shall never see thee +more!' She yet retained the position in which she drew her last breath, +when Ary Scheffer came, as Tintoret formerly came to the bedside of his +daughter, to retrace, with a hand unsteady through emotion, the features +of Emilia Manin. This holy image, snatched by genius from death, is one +of the most admirable works we have ever seen. She lies there, extended +and cold,--the poor child!--in that peace unknown to the life which she +had lived in the body. It is, indeed, the intelligent brow from which +the inspiration of her soul seemed to speak. It is the delicate mouth +and the pale lips, which, never uttering a murmur, betrayed the +celestial goodness of her heart. In truth, it would have been difficult +to hide our emotion, in recognizing--thanks to the pure devotion of the +painter--the touching features of this innocent victim, whom we had +known, loved, and venerated during her life. Some hours later, we again +found Ary Scheffer sustaining with us the tottering steps of Manin upon +the freshly removed earth which was soon to cover the coffin of his +child." + +By the same loving and faithful hand were traced the features of the +Abbe de Lamennais, a name so dear to those who live in the hope of new +progress and liberty for humanity. "At the moment," says M. de la Lorge, +"when death was yet tearing this great genius from the earth, the pencil +of the artist restored him, in some sense alive, in the midst of us all, +his friends, his disciples, his admirers. Hereafter, thanks to the +indefatigable devotion of Ary Scheffer, we shall be permitted to see +again the meagre visage, the burning eyes, the sad and energetic +features of the Breton Apostle." + +Into the domestic life of Scheffer it is not at present our privilege to +enter. Some near friend--the brother, the daughter, the wife--may, +perhaps, hereafter, lift the veil from the sacred spot, and reveal him +to us in those relations which most deeply affect and most truly express +a man's inmost nature. We close this notice with some slight sketch of +his life in the _atelier_. + +None could enter this room without a feeling of reverence and +sacredness. In the failing light of a November afternoon, all was +subdued to a quiet and religious tone. Large and commodious in size, it +was filled with objects of the deepest interest. Nothing was in +disorder; there was no smoke, no unnecessary litter; yet everywhere +little sketches or hints of pictures were perceptible among the casts, +which one longed to bring forth into the light. A few portraits +especially dear to him--best of all, that of his mother--were on the +walls; a few casts of the finest statues--among others, that of the +Venus de Milo--around the room. His last copy of the "Francesca da +Rimini," and the original picture of "The Three Marys," and the yet +unfinished "Temptation on the Mount," were all there. On the easel stood +the picture of the "Group of Spirits ascending to Heaven." Such was the +aspect of this celebrated _atelier_, as we saw it in 1854. But "the +greatest thing in the room was the master of it." Ary Scheffer was then +about sixty years of age, but was still healthy and fresh in appearance. +His face was rather German than French, and bore the stamp of purity and +goodness in every line; but the eyes especially had the fire of genius +tempered by gentleness and love. It was a face which satisfied you at +once, answering to all you could ask of the painter of "Mignon," and the +"Christus Consolator." His manner was quiet and reserved, but courteous. +Unconscious modesty was the peculiar charm of his appearance. One of our +party said that he reminded him strongly of Allston. It was a reverend +presence, which forbade common topics, and strangers thus meeting had +few words to say. As we turned away, we knew that we should never meet +again on earth; but we had gained a new life, and we had beheld, as it +were, the face of an angel. + +Two American artists stood with us in that room: one a fair young girl, +whose purity of soul was mirrored in her beautiful face, who had gone to +Paris to continue her studies in an art which she loved as she did her +life; the other, a man of mature age, whose high and reverent genius has +always met with a loving and faithful appreciation among his countrymen, +which does them as much honor as it did him. The young girl lay down to +die amid her labors, and her frail body rests amid the flowers and trees +of Montmartre; the grown man came home but to bid farewell to home, +friends, and life; the great artist whom we met to honor has gone home +too. A threefold halo of sanctity rests on that room to us. + +To those who shared the privilege of Scheffer's friendship this room was +endeared by hours of the richest social enjoyment. His liberal +hospitality welcomed all ranks and all classes. It is related that Louis +Philippe once sat waiting for him in the _atelier_, and answered a knock +at the door. The visitor was delivering his messages to him, when the +artist returned, and was somewhat surprised to find his royal friend +playing the part of _concierge_. "It was not rare to meet in this +_atelier_ the great men of finance, who counted themselves among his +most passionate admirers." Here was conversation, not without gayety, +but without loud laughter or revelry. Scheffer was very fond of music of +the highest order. He was a generous patron of musicians, and loved to +listen to music while he was engaged in painting. His friends sometimes +held an extemporaneous concert in his room, without preparation, +programme, or audience. Think of listening to an _andante_ of Mozart's, +played in that room! "Music doubled her power, and painting seemed +illuminated." Beethoven was his favorite composer; his lofty genius +harmonized with, and satisfied the longings of, Scheffer's aspiring +nature. + +Ary Scheffer was a personal friend of the Orleans family. He was, +however, an ardent lover of liberty; and his hospitalities were free to +all shades of opinion. He did not forsake this family when their star +went down. Hearing of the death of Helene, the Duchess of Orleans, he +hastened to England, to pay a last tribute of love and respect to her +memory. The English climate had always been ungenial to him. He took a +severe cold, which proved fatal in its results. He died soon after his +return to Paris, on the 16th of June, 1858. Sadly as the news of his +death struck upon our hearts, it seemed no great change for him to die. +So pure and holy was his life, so spiritual his whole nature, so lofty +his aspirations, that it seemed as if + + "He might to Heaven from Paradise go, + As from one room to another." + +Ary Scheffer was twice married. His first wife died early. Many years +after her death he again married,--very happily, as we have heard. He +leaves behind him one daughter, who is also an artist. Under her loving +care, we trust every relic of his artistic labors and every trait of his +personal life will be faithfully preserved. + +Both his brothers lived to middle age. One, of whom we know little but +that M. Vitet calls him "a distinguished man," died in 1855. The only +surviving brother, Henri, is also a painter, of considerable reputation. +He is a thorough and accomplished draughtsman, and a superior teacher. +His _atelier_ is one of the few in Paris which are open to women, and +several American ladies have enjoyed its advantages. + +We have spoken of Scheffer's love for his native country. By his will he +bequeathed to his native town of Dordrecht "the portrait of Sir J. +Reynolds, by Scheffer; a dog lying down, life-size, by the same; a copy +of the picture of the 'Christus Remunerator,' on pasteboard, of the size +of the original in England; a copy of the 'Christus Consolator,'--both +by himself: also, his own statue, in plaster; his own bust, by his +daughter; and the Virgin and Infant Jesus, by himself." The town of +Dordrecht proposes to erect a statue in commemoration of the fame of the +great artist. + +It is too early to assign to Ary Scheffer the rank which he will finally +occupy in the new era of French Art which is coeval with his labors. He +will always stand as the companion of Ingres and Delaroche and +Gericault; and if his successors surpass him even in his own path, they +will owe much to him who helped to open the way. He lived through times +of trouble, when a man's faith in humanity might well be shaken, yet he +remained no less a believer in and lover of mankind. Brighter days for +France may lead her artists to a healthier and freer development; but +they can never be more single-hearted, true, and loving than Ary +Scheffer. + + +[1] This picture is now in the Louvre. It is a composition of +great dramatic power. Mrs. Stowe gives a graphic description of the +effect it produced upon her, in her "Sunny Memories of Sunny Lands." + + + + +A VISIT TO MARTHA'S VINEYARD. + + +We have all, in our days of atlases and "the use of the globes," been +made aware of the fact, that off the southern shore of Massachusetts +lies a long and narrow island, called Martha's Vineyard, one of the many +defences thrown out by the beleaguered New England coast against its +untiring foe, the Atlantic. + +But how many are those who know more than this? How many have visited +it, inquired into its traditions, classified its curiosities, mineral, +saline, and human? How many have seen Gay Head and the Gay-Head Indians? +Not many, truly; and yet the island is well worth a visit, and will +repay the tourist better for his time and labor than any jaded, glaring, +seaside watering-place, with its barrack of white hotel, and its crowd +of idle people. + +In the first place, the delicious suggestiveness of the name,--Martha's +Vineyard! At once we ask, Who was Martha? and how did she use her +vineyard? Was she the thrifty wife of some old Puritan proprietor of +untamed acres?--and did she fancy the wild grapes of this little island, +fuller of flavor, and sweeter for the manufacture of her jellies and +home-made wine, than those which grew elsewhere?--and did she come in +the vintage season, with her children and her friends, to gather in the +rich purple clusters, bearing them back as did the Israelitish spies, to +show the fatness of the promised land? + +It was one of the fairest days of the Indian summer, when Caleb, Mysie, +and the Baron (a young gentleman four years old) set gayly forth to +explore this new and almost unknown region. + +The first stage of their journey was New Bedford; and at the neat and +quiet hotel where they spent the night, Caleb ascertained that the +steamer "Eagle's Wing" would leave its wharf, bound to the Vineyard. + +Pending this event, the trio wandered about the quiet wharves, +inspecting the shipping, and saturating themselves with nautical odors +and information. They discovered that whaleships are not the leviathans +of the deep which Mysie had supposed them, being very rarely of a +thousand tons, and averaging five hundred. They were informed that +whaling has ceased to be a profitable occupation to any but the officers +of the ships, the owners frequently making only enough to repay their +outlay from a voyage which has brought the captain and first mate +several thousand dollars each. + +Every member of a whaleship's crew, from the captain down to the +cabin-boy, is paid, not fixed wages, but a "lay," or share of the +profits of the voyage. Formerly, these "lays" were so graduated, that +the chief advantage of the expedition was to the owners; but, of late +years, matters have altered, so that now it is not uncommon for the +captain to receive a twelfth, tenth, or even eighth of the entire +profit, and the other officers in proportion. + +The attention of our travellers was now directed to numerous squares and +plateaus of great black objects buried in seaweed; these, they were +informed, were casks of oil, stored in this manner instead of in +warehouses, as less liable to leakage. + +It was also asserted, as a fact, that the sperm whale, alarmed at the +untiring rigor of his assailants, has almost disappeared from the +navigable waters, retreating to the fastnesses of the Frozen Ocean, +where he is still pursued, although at the greatest peril, by the +dauntless New Bedford, Nantucket, and Vineyard whalemen, who, as the +narrator proudly stated, have, time and again, come out unscathed from +the perils under which Franklin and his crew succumbed. Many a man now +walks the streets of these seaports who has conversed with the Esquimaux +last in company with that ill-fated crew. + +Full-fed with maritime and oleaginous lore, our travellers at last +embarked upon the "Eagle's Wing," bound down the Vineyard Sound. As the +steamer gained its offing, the view of New Bedford was very picturesque, +reminding one of Boston seated at the head of her beautiful bay. The +passage through the islands, though not long, is intricate, requiring +skilful pilotage; and as the boat passed through the channel called +Wood's Hole, certain feeble-minded sisters were positive that all on +board were bound to immediate destruction; and, in truth, the reefs, +between which the channel lies, approach too closely to leave much room +for steering. The perils of the vasty deep, however, were finally +surmounted, and the steamer made fast to its wharf at Holmes's Hole, one +of the two principal ports of Martha's Vineyard. + +Our trio disembarked, and found themselves at once the subjects of +fierce contention to no less than three aspirants for the honor of +conveying them and their luggage to their point of destination. One of +these, called Dave, was a grave, saturnine Yankee, his hands in the +pockets of his black trousers, his costume further exhibiting the +national livery of black dress coat, black satin waistcoat and necktie, +cow-hide boots, and stiff, shiny hat, very much upon the back of his +head. The languid and independent offers of this individual were, +however, quite drowned by the flood of vociferous overtures from his two +rivals,--an original youth, about eighteen years old, and a man, or +rather mannikin, who, judging by his face, might be in his fiftieth, +and, by his back, in his tenth year. + +Mannikin first succeeded in gaining the attention of Caleb,--the efforts +of Mysie, meanwhile, barely sufficing to restrain the Baron from +plunging over the side of the wharf, in his anxiety to witness the +departure of the steamboat. Mannikin, asserting earnestly that he had a +"good conveyance" close at hand, danced around the group with vehement +gesticulations, intended to strike despair into the souls of his two +adversaries, who, nevertheless, retained their ground,--Dave lounging in +the middle distance, a grim smile of derision upon his face, and Youth +dodging in with loud offers of service, wherever Mannikin left a point +undefended. + +Caleb, at last, demanding to see the "good conveyance," was led away to +the head of the wharf, when Youth at once seized the opportunity to rush +in, and breathlessly inquire of Mysie,-- + +"Wher' ye goin', Ma'am? Wher' ye want to be kerried?" + +"We are going to Gay-Head Light-house; but my"-- + +"Ga'ed Light? I kin kerry ye there fust-rate, and cheap too;--kerry ye +there for two dollars!" + +"My husband has already spoken"-- + +"Wat! t' ole Ransom? Wy, he a'n't got nothin' but a weelbarry." And +Caleb, returning at the same moment with a somewhat perplexed air, +corroborated this statement by saying,-- + +"This man has no carriage, but will get us one in a short time." + +"But this boy," retorted Mysie, "says he has a carriage, and will carry +us to Gay Head for two dollars." + +"You hear that, ole feller?--they're a-goin' with me!" crowed triumphant +Youth at disconcerted Mannikin, who nevertheless rapidly proceeded to +pile the luggage upon his barrow and trundle it away. + +This _coup d'etat_ was checked by Caleb, but afterward allowed, upon +discovering that Youth's carriage was still reposing in his father's +stable, "jist up here"; and Mannikin was consoled by being allowed to +earn a quarter of a dollar by transporting the luggage to that +destination. The procession at once set forth, including Dave, who +strolled in the rear, softly whistling, and apparently totally +unconcerned, yet all the while alive with feline watchfulness. + +Arrived at the stable, the travellers were requested to wait there while +Youth went to find his father and "borry a wip." + +At these last words, a "subtle smile, foreboding triumph," broke over +Dave's composed features, as he muttered,-- + +"Reckin you'll need one 'fore you reach Ga'ed Light." + +The coast clear, Dave became a little more communicative, expatiated +upon the dangers and discomforts of the road, the incapacity of Youth's +horse, and the improbability that his father would ratify the bargain, +concluding by offering to "do the job himself in good shape for four +dollars," which offer was held in abeyance until we should learn the +result of Youth's interview with his father. + +In the mean time, a matron suddenly made her appearance in the barn, +with a hospitable entreaty that "the woman and child" would come up to +the house and warm themselves; and Caleb strongly advocating the Idea, +Mysie and the Baron proceeded houseward. + +About half-way they encountered Paterfamilias, hastening with Youth +toward the barn, and to him Matron at once recapitulated the affair, +concluding with mentioning the stipulated price. At this Pater turned, +with thunderous brow, toward Youth; but Matron interposed, with womanly +tact,-- + +"You can do jest as you like, you know, about lettin' him go; but Dave's +in the barn." + +"Dave in my barn! Wat in thunder's he doin' there? Yes, go, boy,--go for +nothin', if they ask you to, sooner than let that"-- + +The rest of the sentence was lost in the distance. But Mysie, following +her guide to the house, felt quite sure of their conveyance; and, in +fact, barely sufficient time elapsed for the hostess to possess herself +of the leading facts in her guests' history, before the carriage was +announced, and our travellers hastened down the lane, and found there +awaiting them the evident model of the Autocrat's "One-Hoss Shay," in +its last five years of senility;--to this was attached a quadruped who +immediately reminded Mysie of a long-forgotten conundrum. + +"What was the first created animal?" + +_Ans._ "Shay-'oss." + +Holding him ostentatiously by the head stood Youth, the "borried" whip +flourished in his right hand, as he invited his passengers to seat +themselves without reference to him. + +This being done and the seat pretty thoroughly filled, Youth perched +himself upon a bag and valise, which filled the front of the vehicle, +and the journey commenced. + +That ride! The first mile was not passed before the meaning of Dave's +malicious smile, at mention of a whip, became painfully apparent; for +never was weapon more perseveringly used, or with so little result, the +cunning old beast falling into a jog-trot at the commencement, from +which no amount of vociferation or whipping could move him. + +"I wouldn't hurry him so much," interposed Mysie, her compassion +aroused both for beast and Youth. "I don't like to see a horse whipped +so much." + +"Oh, you see, Ma'am, he's so used to it, he won't go noways without it; +feels kind o' lonesome, I 'xpect. It don't hurt him none, nuther; his +skin's got so thick an' tough, that he wouldn't know, if you was to put +bilin' tar on him." + +"Do you feed your horse on oats, much?" inquired Caleb, gravely, after a +long and observant silence. + +"No, Sir, we darsn't give him no oats, 'cause he'd be sure to run away; +doos sometimes, as it is." + +"I don't think you need fear it to-day," replied Caleb, quietly, as he +settled himself into the corner, in the vain hope of a nap; but Youth +was now loquaciously inclined. + +"Reck'n Dave was disappinted," said he, with a chuckle. "He meant to +kerry ye himself; but soon's I see him round, I says to myself, says I, +'Ole Chick, you sha'n't come it this time, if I go for nothin'.'" + +"Competition is the soul of trade," drowsily murmured Caleb; but as +Youth turned to inquire, "Whossay?" the bag upon which he was seated, +and upon which, in the enjoyment of his triumph, he had been wriggling +somewhat too vivaciously, suddenly gave way, and a pair of snow-white +hose came tumbling out. They were at once caught and held admiringly up +by Youth, with the ingenuous remark,-- + +"How wite them looks! An' if you'll blieve it, mine was jest as clean +yis'day mornin',--an' now you look at 'em!" To facilitate which +inspection, the speaker conscientiously drew up his corduroys, so as +fully to display a pair of home-knit socks, which certainly had wofully +deteriorated from the condition ascribed to them "yis'day mornin'." + +"You see, I went clammin' las' night," pursued Youth; "an' that's death +on clo's." + +"What's clammin'?" inquired the Baron, changing the subject with +unconscious tact, and quite surprised at the admiring kiss bestowed upon +him by his mother, while Youth, readjusting his corduroys, replied with +astonishment,-- + +"Clammin'? Wy, clammin's goin' arter clams; didn't ye never eat no +clam-chowder?" + +"N-o, I don't think I ever did," replied the Baron, reflectively. "Is it +like ice-cream?" + +"Well, I never eat none o' that, so I dunno," was the reply; and Youth +and Child, each regarding the other with wondering pity, relapsed into +silence. + +Having now passed from the township of Holmes's Hole into Tisbury, the +road lay through what would have been an oak forest, except that none of +the trees exceeded some four feet in height,--Youth affirming this to be +their mature growth, and that no larger ones had grown since the forest +was cleared by the original settlers. A few miles more were slowly +passed, and Mysie began to look hopefully from every eminence for a +sight of the light-house, when she was stunned by the information, that +they were then entering Chilmark, and were "'bout half-way." + +Caleb, with an exclamation of disgust, leaped from "the shay," and +accomplished the remaining ten miles, wrathfully, on foot,--while Mysie, +wrapping her feminine patience about her as a mantle, resigned herself +to endurance; but Youth, noticing, perhaps, her weary and disconsolate +expression, applied himself sedulously to the task of entertaining her; +and, as a light and airy way of opening the conversation, inquired,-- + +"Was you pooty sick aboard the boat?" + +"Not at all." + +"That's curous! Women 'most alluz is,--'specially wen it's so ruffly as +it is to-day. Was bubby sick any?" + +"No." + +"Wa-al, that's very fortnit, for I don't blieve he'll be sick wen he +grows up an' goes walin'. It's pooty tryin', the fust two or three weeks +out, ginerally. How young is he a-goin' to begin?" + +"I do not think he will ever go to sea." + +"Not a-goin' to sea? Wy, his father's a captain, I 'xpect; a'n't he?" + +"No." + +"Mate, then, a'n't he?" + +"He is not a sailor at all." + +"Ha'n't never ben to sea?" + +"Never." + +Oh, the look of wide-mouthed astonishment which took possession of +Youth's hitherto vacant features, at thus encountering a strong-looking +man, in the prime of life, who had never been to sea, and a healthy, +sturdy boy, whose parents did not mean that he ever should! He had no +more to say; every faculty was, for at least an hour, devoted to the +contemplation of these _lusus naturae_, thus presented to his vision. + +At last, the road, which had long been in a condition of ominous +second-childhood, suddenly died a natural death at the foot of a steep +hill, where a rail-fence presented itself as a barrier to farther +progress. The bars were soon removed by Youth, who triumphantly +announced, as Cha-os walked slowly through the opening thus presented,-- + +"Now we're on Ga'ed, an' I'll run along and take down the next bars, if +you kin drive. Git along, Tom,--you ha'n't got nothin' but two feathers +ahind you now." + +"How far is it to the Light-house?" inquired Mysie, faintly. + +"Ony 'bout four mild," was the discouraging reply, as Youth "loped" on +in advance. + +"Four mild!" and such miles! The only road, a faint track in the grass, +now undiscernible in the gathering gloom, now on the slope of steep +hills marked by deep gullies worn by the impetuous autumn rains, and +down which the poor old "shay" jerked along in a series of bumps and +jolts threatening to demolish at once that patriarchal vehicle and the +bones of its occupants. + +At last, however, from the top of one of these declivities, the +brilliant, flashing light of the long-watched-for Pharos greeted Mysie's +despairing eyes, and woke new hopes of warmth, rest, and shelter. But +never did bewildering _ignisfatuus_ retire more persistently from the +pursuit of unwary traveller than did that Light-house from the occupants +of that creaking "shay"; and it was not till total darkness had settled +upon the earth that they reached its door, and discovered, by the +lamplight streaming out, that Caleb stood in the entrance, awaiting +their arrival. + +As the chaise stopped, he came forward and lifted the stiff and weary +forms of "the woman and child" to the ground, and delivered them to the +guidance of the hostess. + +The first aspect of affairs was somewhat discouraging,--the parlor into +which they were ushered being without fire and but dimly lighted, the +bedroom not yet prepared for toilet purposes, and the hostess, as she +averred, entirely unprepared for company. + +Left alone in the dreary parlor, Caleb subsided into moody silence, and +Mysie into tears, upon which the Baron followed suit, and produced such +a ludicrous state of affairs, that the sobs which had evoked his changed +to an irrepressible laugh, in which all parties soon joined. This +pleasant frame of mind was speedily encouraged and augmented, first, by +water and towels _ad libitum_, and then by an introduction to the +dining-room, in whose ample grate now roared a fire, of what our +travellers were informed was peat,--an article supplying, in the absence +of all other indigenous fuel, nearly every chimney upon the island. + +A good cup of tea and a substantial supper prepared the trio to accept +the invitation of the excellent Mr. F. (the chief keeper, and their +host) to go up with him "into the Light." + +And now our travellers suddenly found that they had made a pilgrimage +unawares. They had come to the island for sea-air and pebbles, to shoot +ducks, see the Indians, and find out who Martha was, and had come to the +Light-house, as the only "white" dwelling upon the Head,--the rest +being all occupied by the descendants of the red men,--and now found +themselves applauded by their host for having "come so far to see our +Light;--not so far as some, either," continued he, "for we have had +visitors from every part of the Union,--even from Florida; every one who +understands such things is so anxious to see it." + +"Why, is it different from common light-houses?" carelessly inquired +Caleb. + +"Don't you know? Haven't you come on purpose to see it?" asked the +keeper, in astonishment,--and then proceeded to explain, that this is +the famous Fresnel light, the identical structure exhibited at the great +Exposition at Paris, bought there by an agent of the United States, and +shipped by him to America. + +Owing, however, to some inexplicable blunder, its arrival was not made +known to the proper authorities,--and the papers which should have +accompanied it being lost or not delivered, no one at the custom-house +knew what the huge case contained. It was deposited in a bonded +warehouse during the legal interval, but, never having been claimed, was +then sold, still unexamined, to the highest bidder. He soon identified +his purchase, and proceeded to make his own profit out of it,--the +consequence being that government at last discovered that the Fresnel +light had been some two years in this country, and was then upon +exhibition, if the President and cabinet would like to take a peep. The +particulars of the bargain which ensued did not transpire, but it +resulted in the lantern being repacked and reshipped to Gay Head, its +original destination. + +While hearing this little history, the party were breathlessly climbing +three steep iron staircases, the last of which ended at a trap-door, +giving admittance to the clock-room, where the keeper generally sits; +from here another ladder-like staircase leads up into the lantern. +Arrived at the top, the Baron screamed with delight at the gorgeous +spectacle before him. + +The lamp (into the four concentric wicks of which a continual and +superabundant supply of oil is forced by a species of clock-work, +causing a flame of dazzling brilliancy) is surrounded by a revolving +cover, about eight feet high by four or five in diameter, and in shape +like the hand-glasses with which gardeners cover tender plants, or the +shades which one sees over fancy clocks and articles of _bijouterie_. +This cover is composed of over six hundred pieces of glass, arranged in +a complicated and scientific system of lenses and prisms, very difficult +to comprehend, but very beautiful in the result; for every ray of light +from that brilliant flame is shivered into a thousand glittering arrows, +reflected, refracted, tinted with all the rainbow hues, and finally +projected through the clear plate-glass windows of the lantern with all +the force and brilliancy of a hundred rays. If any one cares to +understand more clearly the why and the how, let him either go and see +for himself or read about it in Brande's Encyclopaedia. Mysie and the +Baron were content to bask ignorantly in the glittering, ever-changing, +ever-flowing flood of light, dreaming of Fairy Land, and careless of +philosophy. Only so much heed did they give to the outer world as always +to place themselves upon the landward side of the lantern, lest +unwittingly their forms should hide one ray of the blessed light from +those for whose good it was put there. + +Caleb, meanwhile, sat with his host in the clock-room, smoking many a +meerschaum, and listening to the keeper's talk about his beautiful +charge,--a pet as well as a duty with him, obviously. + +With the same fond pride with which a mother affects to complain of the +care she lavishes upon her darling child would the old man speak of the +time necessary to keep his six hundred lenses clear and spotless, each +one being rubbed daily with softest doeskin saturated with _rouge_, to +keep the windows of the lantern free from constantly accumulating saline +incrustations,--of the care with which the lamp, when burning, must be +watched, lest intrusive fly or miller should drown in the great +reservoir of oil and be drawn into the air-passages. This duty, and the +necessity of winding up the "clock" (which forces the oil up into the +wick) every half-hour, require a constant watch to be kept through the +night, which is divided between the chief and two assistant keepers. + +The morning after their arrival, our travellers, strong with the vigor +of the young day, set forth to explore the cliffs, bidding adieu to +original Youth, who, standing ready to depart, beside his horse, was +carolling the following ditty in glorification of his native town:-- + + "Ga'ed Light is out o' sight, + Menemshee Crik is sandy, + Holmes's Hole's a pooty place, + An' Oldtown Pint's onhandy." + +(Oldtown being synonymous with Edgartown, the rival seaport.) + +Leaving this young patriot to his national anthem, a walk of a few +hundred feet through deep sword-edged grass brought our explorers to the +edge of a cliff, down which they gazed with awe-hushed breath. Below +them, at a depth of a hundred and fifty feet, the thunderous waves beat +upon the foot of the cliff over whose brink they peered, and which, +stern and impassive as it had stood for ages, frowned back with the mute +strength of endurance upon the furious, eager waves, which now and again +dashed themselves fiercely against its front, only to be flung back +shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. + +The cliffs themselves are very curious and beautiful, being composed of +red and black ochre, the largest cliff showing the one color on its +northern and the other on its southern face. The forms are +various,--some showing a sheer descent, with no vestige of earth or +vegetation, their faces seamed with scars won in the elemental war which +they have so long withstood. In other spots the cliff has been rent into +sharp pinnacles, varied and beautiful in hue. + +One spot, in particular, which became Mysie's favorite resort, was at +once singular and beautiful in its conformation. About three feet above +the water's edge lay a level plateau, its floor of loose, sandy, black +conglomerate, abounding in sparkling bits of quartz and sulphate of +iron; beneath this lay a bed of beautifully marbled and variegated clay, +its edge showing all along the black border of the plateau like the +brilliant wreath with which a brunette binds her dusky hair. Blocks of +this clay, fallen upon the beach, and wet with every flowing wave, lay +glistening in the sunlight and looking like-- + +"Castile soap, mamma," suggested the Baron, as Mysie was describing the +scene in his presence, and hesitated for a simile. + +At the back of the terrace, which, in its widest part, measured some +fifty feet, rose suddenly and sharply the pinnacled cliffs, some snowy +white, some black, some deep red, and others a cold gray. At either hand +they extended quite down to the water's edge, so that, seated upon the +plateau, nothing met the eye but ocean, sky, and cliffs; no work of man +struck a discordant note in the grand harmony of these three simple, +mighty elements of creation. + +Mysie sometimes took a book here with her, but it was not a place to +read in; the scene crushed and dwarfed human thoughts and words to +nothingness; and to repeat to the ocean himself what had been said of +him by the loftiest even of poets seemed tame and impertinent. + +These cliffs extend about a mile along the shore, and then suddenly give +place to a broad sandy beach, behind which lies a level, desolate moor, +treeless, shrubless, and barren of all vegetation, save coarse grass and +weeds, and a profusion of stunted dog-roses, which, in their season, +must throw a rare and singular charm over their sterile home. + +The beach, though smooth and even, is not flat, like those of Nantasket, +Nahant, and Newport, but shelves rapidly down; and there is a belief +among the islanders, that a short distance out it terminates suddenly at +the brow of a submarine precipice, beyond which are no soundings. + +Owing to the sharp declivity of the beach, the rollers break with great +force, and the surf is very high. At one point is grouped a cluster of +rocks, half in the water, half on the beach, among which, as the tide +comes in, the waves break with furious force, dashing high over the +outermost barrier, and then plunging and leaping forward, like a troop +of wild horses, their white manes flung high in air, as they leap +forward over one and another of the obstacles in their path. + +Perched upon the crest of one of these half-submerged rocks, watching +the mad waves fling themselves exhausted at her feet, it was Mysie's +delight to sit, enjoying the half danger of her position, and retreating +only when the waters had many times closed behind her throne, leaving, +in their momentary absence, but a wet and slippery path back to the +beach. + +Along this beach, too, lay the road to Squipnocket, a pond famed for its +immense flocks of wild geese and ducks,--fame shared by Menemshee Creek +and Pond, as well as several others of similar aboriginal titles. + +To these repaired, almost daily, Caleb, accompanied by one or another of +his host's five sons; and the result of their efforts with the gun was +no inconsiderable addition to the table at Ga'ed Light. + +But greatest of all the wonders at the Head are the Fossil Cliffs. + +A short time after the arrival of our travellers, their hostess inquired +if they had yet found any fossils. Mysie frankly confessed that they did +not know there were any to find, which was evidently as great a surprise +to Mrs. F. as their ignorance of the Fresnel light had been to her +husband. She at once offered the services of her daughter Clarissa as +guide and assistant, and gave glowing accounts of the treasures to be +found. The offer was gladly accepted; and Clarissa, a merry little romp, +about twelve years old, soon made her appearance, armed with a pickaxe, +hoe, and basket. + +Thus laden, and in the teeth of a shrewd northeast wind, the little +barefooted pioneer led the way directly over the brow of a cliff, which, +had Mysie been alone, she would have pronounced entirely impracticable. +Now, however, fired with a lofty emulation, she silently followed her +guide, grasping, however, at every shrub and protection with somewhat +convulsive energy. + +"Here's a good place," announced Clarissa, pausing where a shelf of +gravelly rock afforded tolerable foothold. "Professor Hitchcock told +father that in here were strata of the tertiary formation, and there's +where we get the fossils." + +"But how do you come at the tertiary formation through all this sand and +gravel?" asked Mysie, aghast at the prospect. + +"Oh, dig; that's why I brought the pick and hoe; we must dig a hole +about a foot deep, and then we shall come to the stuff that has the +fossils in it. You may have the hoe, and I'll take the pick, 'cause +that's the hardest." + +"Then let me have it; I am stronger than you," exclaimed Mysie, suddenly +roused to enthusiasm at the idea of "picking" her way into the tertiary +formation of the earth, and exhuming its fossilized remains. + +Seizing the pickaxe, she aimed a mighty blow at the clay and gravel +conglomerate before her; but the instrument, falling wide of its +intended mark, struck upon a rock, and sent such a jarring thrill up +both her arms and such a tingle to her fingers' ends as suddenly +quenched her antiquarian zeal, and reminded her of a frightful account +she once read of a convent of nuns captured by some brutal potentate, +who forced them to mend his highways by breaking stones upon them with +very heavy hammers; and the historian mentioned, as a common +occurrence, that, when any sister dislocated her shoulder, one of her +comrades would set it, and the sufferer would then resume her labors. + +Mysie, having this warning before her eyes, and being doubtful of +Clarissa's surgical abilities, concluded to postpone her researches, and +proposed to her companion to fill the basket with shells and pebbles +from the beach, to which cowardly proposition Clarissa yielded but a +reluctant consent. + +The next day, however, Mr. F. and Caleb, learning the result of the +fossil-search, offered to apply their more efficient skill and strength +to a new attempt in the same direction; and, with high hopes for the +result, Mysie, still accompanied by Clarissa, proceeded to another +portion of the cliffs, where a low, wedge-shaped promontory, shadowed by +beetling crags, was, as Mr. F. confidently stated, "sure for teeth." + +The pickaxe, in the sinewy arms of its owner, soon dislodged great cakes +of the upper deposit and laid bare a stratum of olive-green clay, which +was announced to be a fossil-bed. Lumps of this clay being broken off +and crumbled up, proved indeed rich in deposit. They found sharks' +teeth, the edges still sharply serrated, firmly set in pieces of the +jawbone,--whales' teeth,--vertebrae of various species,--fragments of +bone, great and small,--several species of shell-fish, among which +chiefly abounded a kind called quahaug,--and many nondescript fragments, +not easily classified. One of these was a little bone closely resembling +the tibia of a child's leg, and may have belonged to some antediluvian +infant lost at sea, (if Noah's ancestors were mariners,) or perhaps +drowned in the Deluge,--for Mr. F. quoted an eminent geologist who has +visited the Vineyard, and who supposed these remains to have been +brought here by that mighty Flood-tide. Another _savant_, however, +supposes the island to have been thrown up from the sea by volcanic +action; and that the fossils, now imbedded in cliffs a hundred feet +high, were once deposited upon the bed of the ocean. There is certainly +a great amount of conglomerate, which has evidently been fused by +intense heat; and masses of rock, sea-pebbles, sand, and iron-ore are +now as firmly integrated as a piece of granite. + +However, the fossils came; here they certainly are; many of them perfect +in form, and light and porous to the eye, but all hard and heavy as +stone to the touch. Teeth, which are considered the most valuable of all +the remains, are sometimes found as wide as a man's hand, and weighing +several pounds; but Mysie was quite content with the more insignificant +weight of those which filled her basket, especially when an immense +reticulated paving-stone was added, which Mr. F. pronounced to be a +whale's vertebra. She then was induced to trust the precious collection +to Caleb's care, the more willingly that the ascent of the cliffs was +now to be attempted. This was easily and quickly accomplished by Mr. F. +and his little son, by going to the right spot before beginning to +climb; but Mysie declaring that the ascent was quite practicable where +they were, Caleb and Clarissa felt bound in honor to accompany her. For +some distance, all went very well,--the face of the cliff presuming +slight inequalities of surface, which answered for foot-and hand-holds, +and not being very steep; but suddenly Mysie, the leader of the group, +arriving within about three feet of the top, found the rock above her so +smooth as to give no possible foothold by which she might reach the +strong, coarse grass which nodded tauntingly to her over the brink. + +Clinging closely to the face of the cliff, she turned her head to +announce to Caleb that she could not go on, and, in turning, looked +down. Before this she had felt no fear, only perplexity; but the sight +of those cruel rocks below,--the hollow booming of the waves, as they +lashed the foot of the cliff,--the consciousness that a fall of a +hundred feet awaited her, should she let go her hold,--all this struck +terror to Mysie's heart; and while a heavy, confused noise came +throbbing and ringing through her head, she shut her eyes, and fancied +she had seen her last of earth. + +In an instant Caleb was beside her,--his arm about her, holding her +safely where she was; but to continue was impossible for either. + +"Ho! Mr. F.!" shouted Caleb; "come this way, will you, and give my wife +your hand? She is a little frightened, and can't go on." + +Presently a stout arm and hand appeared from among that nodding, mocking +grass, and a cheery voice exclaimed,-- + +"Here, my dear lady, take right hold, strong;--you can't pull me +over,--not if you try to." + +Unclasping, with some difficulty, her fingers from the rock, into which +they seemed to have grown, Mysie grasped the proffered hand, and the +next moment was safe upon the turf. + +"Oh, my good gracious!" muttered the kind old man; but whether the +exclamation was caused by Mysie's face, pale, no doubt, by the effort +necessary to raise her half-fainting figure, or by the idea of the peril +in which she had been, did not appear. + +Clarissa, calm and equable, was next passed up by Caleb, who, declining +the proffered hand, drew himself up, by a firm grasp upon the rocky +scarp of the cliff. + +"Guess you was scart some then, wa'n't you?" inquired Clarissa, as the +party walked homeward. + +"Oh, no!" replied Mysie, quickly. "But I could not get over the top of +the cliff alone,--it was so steep." + +"Oh, that was the matter?" drawled the child, with a sidelong glance of +her sharp black eyes. + +The northeast wind which went fossilizing with Mysie and Clara on their +first excursion was the precursor of a furious storm of rain and wind, +ranking, according to the dictum of experienced weatherseers, as little +inferior to that famous one in which fell the Minot's Ledge Light-house. + +As the gale reached its height, it was a sight at once terrible and +beautiful, to watch, standing in the lantern, the goaded sea, whose +foam-capped waves could plainly be seen at the horizon line, breaking +here and there upon sunken rocks, over which in their playful moods they +scarcely rippled, but on which they now dashed with such white fury as +to make them discernible, even through the darkness of night. One long, +low ridge of submarine rocks, around which seethed a perpetual caldron, +was called the Devil's Bridge; but when erected, or for what purpose, +tradition failed to state. + +Never, surely, did the wind rave about a peaceful inland dwelling as it +did about that lonely light-house for two long nights. It roared, it +howled, it shrieked, it whistled; it drew back to gather strength, and +then rushed to the attack with such mad fury, that the strong, young +light-house, whose frame was all of iron and stone, shrunk trembling +before it, and the children in their beds screamed aloud for fear. But +through all and beyond all, the calm, strong light sent out its +piercing, warning rays into the black night; and who can tell what +sinner it may that night have prevented from crossing the Devil's Bridge +to the world which lies beyond? + +There was but one wreck during the storm, so far as our travellers +heard; and in this the lives were saved. Two men, caught out in a +fishing-smack, finding that their little vessel was foundering, betook +themselves to their small boat; but this filled more rapidly than they +could bale it; and they had just given themselves up for lost, when +their signals of distress were observed on board the light-ship +stationed near Newport, which sent a life-boat to their assistance, and +rescued them just as their little boat went to pieces. + +When Mysie heard this occurrence mentioned, as they were journeying +homeward, it recalled to her mind a little incident of the day +succeeding the storm. + +Walking with Clara upon the beach, they saw borne toward them, on the +crest of a mighty wave, a square beam of wood, bent at an obtuse angle, +which Clara at once pronounced to be the knee from some large boat, and, +rushing dauntlessly into the water, the energetic little maid battled +with the wave for its unwieldy toy, and finally dragged it triumphantly +out upon the beach, and beyond the reach of the wave, only wishing that +she had "a piece of chalk to make father's mark upon it." Failing the +chalk, she rushed off home for "father and one of the boys," who soon +bestowed the prize in a place of safety. + +Mysie at first wondered considerably that persons should take so much +trouble for a piece of wood, but ceased to do so when she remembered +that on the whole island could not probably be found a tree of a foot in +diameter, and that everything like board or joist at the light-house +must be brought by sea to Holmes's Hole, Edgartown, or Menemshee, and +thence carted over _that_ road to Gay Head, becoming, by the time it +reached "the Light," not a common necessary, but an expensive luxury. +She was not, therefore, surprised at being accompanied in her next walk +along the beach by quite a little party of wreckers, who, joyfully +seizing every chip which the waves tossed within their reach, +accumulated at last a very respectable pile of drift-wood. + +"It would be a good thing for you, if the schooner "Mary Ann" should go +to pieces off here," remarked Mysie to Clara, who had become her +constant attendant. + +"Why?" inquired she, expectantly. + +"On account of her cargo. When hailed by another ship, and asked his +name, the captain replied,-- + + 'I'm Jonathan Homer, master and owner + Of the schooner Mary Ann; + She comes from Pank-a-tank, laden with oak plank, + And bound to Surinam.'" + +"Did he _really_ say so?" asked Clara, sharply. + +"I don't know," said Mysie, laughing; "but that's what I heard about it +when I was a little girl." + +While the storm continued too violent for out-of-door exercise, Mysie +cultivated an acquaintance with a remarkably pleasant and intelligent +lady who fortunately was making a visit at the light-house. She had been +for many years a resident of the Vineyard, and had taken great interest +in its history, both past and present. From her Mysie derived much +curious and interesting information. + +It seems that the island was first discovered by a certain Thomas +Mayhew, who, voyaging with others to settle in the Plymouth Colony +during its early days, was driven by stress of weather into a safe and +commodious bay, now Edgartown harbor, but then seen and used for the +first time by white men. The storm over, his companions prepared to +resume their voyage; but Mayhew, seeing the land fair and pleasant to +look upon, decided to remain there, and landed with whoever in the ship +belonged to him. + +He, of course, found the land in the hands of its original possessors, a +small and peaceful tribe of Indians, living quietly upon their own +island, and having very little communication with their neighbors. With +them Thomas Mayhew bargained for what land he wanted, selecting it in +what is now the town of Chilmark, and paying for it, to the satisfaction +of all parties, with an old soldier's coat which happened to be among +his possessions. + +In process of time, one of his sons, named Experience, having been +educated for the purpose in England, returned to his father's home as a +missionary to the kind and hospitable savages among whom he dwelt. So +prosperous were the labors of himself, and afterward of his son +Zachariah, that in a journal, kept by the latter, it is mentioned that +there were then upon the island twelve thousand "praying Indians." + +Experience Mayhew is still spoken of as "the great Indian missionary," +and the house in which he lived was still standing a few years since +upon the farm of Mr. Hancock in Chilmark. + +The island is to this day full of Mayhews of every degree,--so far, at +least, as distinctions of rank have obtained among this isolated and +primitive people. + +When Massachusetts erected herself into a State, and included the +Vineyard within her bounds, it was divided into the townships of +Edgartown, (or Oldtown,) Holmes's Hole, Tisbury, and Chilmark, and the +district of Gay Head, which last, with the island of Chip-a-quid-dick, +off Edgartown, and a small tract of land in Tisbury, named +Christian-town, were made over in perpetuity to the Indians who chose to +remain. They have not the power of alienating any portion of this +territory, nor may any white man build or dwell there. If, however, one +of the tribe marry out of the community, the alien husband or wife may +come to live with the native spouse so long as the marriage continues; +and the Indians have taken advantage of this permission to intermarry +with the negroes, until there is not one pure-blooded descendant of the +original stock remaining, and its physiognomy and complexion are in most +cases undistinguishable in the combination of the two races. + +Gay Head contains eleven hundred acres, seven of which are the +birthright of every Indian child; but it is not generally divided by +fences, the cattle of the whole tribe grazing together in amicable +companionship. Much of the value of the property lies in the +cranberry-meadows, which are large and productive, and in the beds of +rich peat. A great deal of the soil, however, is valuable for +cultivation, although but little used, as the majority of the men follow +the example of their white co-islanders, and plough the sea instead of +the land. They make excellent seamen, and sometimes rise to the rank of +officers, although few white sailors are sufficiently liberal in their +views to approve of being commanded by "a nigger," as they persist in +calling these half-breeds. + +The wigwams, which, no doubt, were at first erected here, have given +place to neat and substantial frame buildings, as comfortable, +apparently, as those in many New England villages. There is also a +nice-looking Baptist church, of which denomination almost every adult is +a member. Near this is a parsonage, occupied until lately by a white +clergyman; but the spirit of Experience Mayhew is not common in these +days; and his successor, finding the parish lonely and uncongenial, +removed to a pleasanter one,--his pulpit being now filled by a preacher +from among the Indians themselves. + +Mysie took occasion to call at one of these _quasi_ wigwams, soon after +her arrival, but could discern only one aboriginal vestige in either +inhabitants or customs. This existed in the shape of a dish of +succotash, (corn and beans boiled together,) which the good woman was +preparing for breakfast,--very possibly in ignorance that her ancestors +had cooked and eaten and named the compound ages before the white +intruders ever saw their shore. + +Mysie pursued her morning walk in a somewhat melancholy mood. It is a +sad and dreary sight to behold a nation in decay; saddest when the fall +is from so slight an elevation as that on which the savage stood. Greece +and Rome, falling into old age, proudly boast, "Men cannot say I did not +_have_ the crown"; each shows undying, unsurpassable achievements of her +day of power and strength,--each, if she live no longer in the sight of +the world, is sure of dwelling forever in its memory. But the +aboriginal, when his simple routine of life is broken up by the +intrusion of a people more powerful, more wicked, and more wise than +himself, is incapable of exchanging his own purely physical ambitions +and pursuits for the intellectual and cultivated life belonging to the +better class of his conquerors, while his wild and sensuous nature +grasps eagerly at the new forms of vice which follow in their train. +Civilization to the savage destroys his own existence, and gives him no +better one,--destroys it irremediably and forever. The life sufficient +for himself and for the day is not that which stretches its hand into +the future and sets its mark on ages not yet born; it dies and is +forgotten,--forgotten even by the descendants of those who lived it. + +Some of the Indian names still survive; and Mysie's indignation was +roused, when a descendant of the Mayhews, pointing out the hamlets of +Menemshee and Nashaquitsa, (commonly called Quitsy,) added, +contemptuously,-- + +"But them's only nicknames given by the colored folks; it's all Chilmark +by rights." + +"I suppose they are the names used by the ancestors of these Indians, +before a white man ever saw the island,--are they not?" inquired she, +somewhat dryly. + +"Like enough, like enough," replied the other, carelessly, and not in +the least appreciating the rebuke. + +From the lady before referred to Mysie received an answer to her +oft-repeated question,-- + +"Is there any tradition how the island received its name?" + +"Oh, yes," was the unexpected and welcome answer. "All the islands near +here were granted by the King of England to a gentleman whose name is +forgotten; but he had four daughters, among whom he divided his new +possessions. + +"This one, remarkable then, as now, in a degree, for its abundance of +wild grapes, he gave to Martha as her Vineyard. + +"The group to the north, consisting of Pennikeese, Cuttyhunk, Nashawena, +Naushon, Pasqui, and Punkatasset, are called the Elizabeth Islands, from +the daughter who inherited them. + +"That little island to the southwest of us was Naomi's portion. It is +now called Noman's Land, and is remarkable only for the fine quality of +the codfish caught and cured there. + +"The strangest of all, however, was the name given to the island +selected by Ann, which was first called Nan-took-it, and is now known as +Nantucket." + +"Thank Heaven, that I at last know something about Martha!" ejaculated +Mysie. + + * * * * * + +At length, every corner filled with _specimens_, every face deeply +imbrowned by sun and wind, and the Baron with only the ghost of a pair +of shoes to his feet, our travellers set their faces homeward,--Caleb +resolving to renew his acquaintance with the birds at some future +period, his imagination having been quite inflamed by the accounts of +plover and grouse to be found here in their season. The latter, however, +are very strictly protected by law during most of the season, on account +of the rapidity with which they were disappearing. They are identical +with the prairie-fowl, so common at the West, and are said to be +delicious eating. + +Desirous to improve their minds and manners by as much travel as +possible, the trio resolved to leave the island by the way of Edgartown, +the terminus of the steamboat route. Bidding adieu to their kind and +obliging host and hostess, the twelve children, and the pleasant new +friend, they set out, upon the most charming of all autumn days, for +Edgartown, fully prepared to be dazzled by its beauty and confounded by +its magnificence. + +"Edgartown is a much finer place than Holmes's Hole, I understand," +remarked Caleb to their driver. + +"Well, I dunno; it's some bigger," was the reply. + +"But it is a better sort of place, I am told; people from Edgartown +don't seem to think much of Holmes's Hole." + +"No, nor the Holmes's Hole folks don't think much of Oldtown; it's +pretty much according to who you talk to, which place is called the +handsomest, I reckon." + +"Athens or Rome, London or Paris, Oldtown or Holmes's Hole, Mysie," +murmured Caleb, as their driver stopped to reply to the driver of "a +team," who was anxious to know when he was "a-goin' to butcher agin." + +Edgartown proved to be a pretty little seaside town, with some handsome +wooden houses, a little bank, and a very nice tavern, at which the +travellers received very satisfactory entertainment. The next day, +reembarking upon the "Eagle's Wing," they soon reached New Bedford. + + + + +OCTOBER TO MAY. + + + The day that brightens half the earth + Is night to half. Ah, sweet! + One's mourning is another's mirth;-- +You wear your bright years like a crown,-- +While mine, dead garlands, tangle down + In chains about my feet. + + The breeze which wakes the folded flower + Sweeps dead leaves from the tree;-- + So partial Time, as hour by hour +He tells the rapid years,--cheu! +Brings bloom and beauty still to you, + But leaves his blight with me. + + The rain which calls the violet up + Out of the moistened mould + Shatters the wind-flower's fragile cup;-- +For even Nature has her pets, +And, favoring the new, forgets + To love and spare the old. + + The shower which makes the bud a rose + Beats off the lilac-bloom. + I am a lilac,--so life goes,-- +A lilac that has outlived May;-- +You are a blush-rose. Welladay! + I pass, and give you room! + + + + +THE ELEUSINIA. + + +What did the Eleusinia mean? Perhaps, reader, you think the question of +little interest. "The Eleusinia! Why, Lobeck made that little matter +clear long ago; and there was Porphyry, who told us that the whole thing +was only an illustration of the Platonic philosophy. St. Croix, too,--he +made the affair as clear as day!" + +But the question is not so easily settled, my friend; and I insist upon +it that you _have_ an interest in it. Were I to ask you the meaning of +Freemasonry, you would think _that_ of importance; you could not utter +the name without wonder; and it may be that there is even more wonder in +it than you suspect,--though you be an arch-mason yourself. But in sight +of Eleusis, freemasonry sinks into insignificance. For, of all races, +the Grecian was the most mysterious; and, of all Grecian mysteries, the +Eleusinia were _the_ mysteries _par excellence_. They must certainly +have meant something to Greece,--something more than can ever be +adequately known to us. A farce is soon over; but the Eleusinia reached +from the mythic Eumolpus to Theodosius the Great,--nearly two thousand +years. Think you that all Athens, every fifth year, for more than sixty +generations, went to Eleusis to witness and take part in a sham? + +But, reader, let _us_ go to Eleusis, and see, for ourselves, this great +festival. Suppose it to be the 15th of September, B.C. 411, Anno Mundi +3593 (though we would not make oath to that). It is a fine morning at +Athens, and every one is astir, for it is the day of assembling together +at Eleusis. Then, for company, we shall have Plato, now eighteen years +old, Sophocles, an old man of eighty-four, Euripides, at sixty-nine, and +Aristophanes, at forty-five. Socrates, who has his peculiar notions +about things, is not one of the initiated, but will go with us, if we +ask him. These are the _elite_ of Athens. Then there are the Sophists +and their young disciples, and the vast crowd of the Athenian people. +Some of the oldest among them may have seen and heard the "Prometheus +Vinctus"; certainly very many of them have seen "Antigone," and +"Oedipus," and "Electra"; and all of them have heard the Rhapsodists. +Great wonders have they seen and heard, which, in their appeal to the +heart, transcend all the wonders of this nineteenth century. Not more +fatal to the poor Indian was modern civilization, bringing swift ruin to +his wigwam and transforming his hunting-grounds into the sites of +populous cities, than modern improvements would have been to the Greek. +Modern strategy! What a subject for Homer would the siege of Troy have +been, had it consisted of a series of pitched battles with rifles! +Railways, steamboats, and telegraphs, annihilating space and time, would +also have annihilated the Argonautic expedition and the wanderings of +Ulysses. There would have been little fear, in a modern steamship, of +the Sirens' song; one whistle would have broken the charm. A modern +steamship might have borne Ulysses to Hades,--but it would never have +brought him back, as his own ship did. And now do you think a ride to +Eleusis by railway to-day would strike this Athenian populace, to say +nothing of the philosophers and poets we have along with us? + +But they are thinking of Eleusis, and not of the way to Eleusis; so that +we may as well keep our suggestion to ourselves,--also those pious +admonitions which we were just about to administer to our companions on +heathenish superstitions. A strange fascination these Athenians have; +and before we are aware, _our_ thoughts, too, are centred in Eleusis, +whither are tending, not Athens only, but vast multitudes from all +Greece. Their movement is tumultuous; but it is a tumult of natural +enthusiasm, and not of Bacchic frenzy. If Athens be, as Milton calls +her, "the eye of Greece," surely Eleusis must be its heart! + +There are nine days of the festival. This first is the day of the +_agurmos_, ([Greek: agyrmos],) or assembling together the flux of +Grecian life into the secret chambers of its Eleusinian heart. To-morrow +is the day of purification; then, "To the sea, all ye that are +initiated!" ([Greek: Alade, mystai!]) lest any come with the stain of +impurity to the mysteries of God. The third day is the day of +sacrifices, that the heart also may be made pure, when are offered +barley from the fields of Eleusis and a mullet. All other sacrifices may +be tasted; but _this_ is for Demeter alone, and not to be touched by +mortal lips. On the fourth day, we join the procession bearing the +sacred basket of the goddess, filled with curious symbols, grains of +salt, carded wool, sesame, pomegranates, and poppies,--symbols of the +gifts of our Great Mother and of her mighty sorrow. On the night of the +fifth, we are lost in the hurrying tumult of the torch-light +processions. Then there is the sixth day, the great day of all, when +from Athens the statue of Iacchus (Bacchus) is borne, crowned with +myrtle, tumultuously through the sacred gate, along the sacred way, +halting by the sacred fig-tree, (all sacred, mark you, from Eleusinian +associations,) where the procession rests, and then moves on to the +bridge over the Cephissus, where again it rests, and where the +expression of the wildest grief gives place to the trifling farce,--even +as Demeter, in the midst of her grief, smiled at the levity of Iambe in +the palace of Celeus. Through the "mystical entrance" we enter Eleusis. +On the seventh day, games are celebrated; and to the victor is given a +measure of barley,--as it were a gift direct from the hand of the +goddess. The eighth is sacred to Aesculapius, the Divine Physician, who +heals all diseases; and in the evening is performed the initiatory +ritual. + +Let us enter the mystic temple and be initiated,--though it must be +supposed that a year ago we were initiated into the Lesser Mysteries at +Agrae. ("_Certamen enim,--et praeludium certaminis; et mysteria sunt quae +praecedunt mysteria_.") We must have been _mystae_ (veiled) before we can +become _epoptae_ (seers); in plain English, we must have shut our eyes to +all else before we can behold the mysteries. Crowned with myrtle, we +enter with the other _mystae_ into the vestibule of the temple,--blind as +yet, but the Hierophant within will soon open our eyes. + +But first,--for here we must do nothing rashly,--first we must wash in +this holy water; for it is with pure hands and a pure heart that we are +bidden to enter the most sacred inclosure. Then, led into the presence +of the Hierophant, he reads to us, from a book of stone, things which we +must not divulge on pain of death. Let it suffice that they fit the +place and the occasion; and though you might laugh at them, if they were +spoken outside, still you seem very far from that mood now, as you hear +the words of the old man (for old he always was) and look upon the +revealed symbols. And very far indeed are you from ridicule, when +Demeter seals, by her own peculiar utterances and signals, by vivid +coruscations of light, and cloud piled upon cloud, all that we have seen +and heard from her sacred priest; and when, finally, the light of a +serene wonder fills the temple, and we see the pure fields of Elysium +and hear the choirs of the Blessed;--then, not merely by external +seeming or philosophic interpretation, but in real fact, does the +Hierophant become the Creator and Revealer of all things; the Sun is but +his torch-bearer, the Moon his attendant at the altar, and Hermes his +mystic herald. But the final word has been uttered: "_Conx Ompax_." The +rite is consummated, and we are _epoptae_ forever! + +One day more, and the Eleusinia themselves are completed. As in the +beginning by lustration and sacrifices we conciliated the favor of the +gods, so now by libation we finally commend ourselves to their care. +Thus did the Greeks begin all things with lustration and end with +libation, each day, each feast,--all their solemn treaties, their +ceremonies, and sacred festivals. But, like all else Eleusinian, this +libation must be _sui generis_, emptied from two bowls,--the one toward +the East, the other toward the West. Thus is finished this Epos, or, as +Clemens Alexandrinus calls it, the "mystical drama" of the Eleusinia. + +Now, reader, you have seen the Mysteries. And what do they mean? Let us +take care lest we deceive ourselves, as many before us have done, by +merely _looking_ at the Eleusinia. + +Oh, this everlasting staring! This it is that leads us astray. That old +stargazer, with whom Aesop has made us acquainted, deserved, indeed, to +fall into the well, no less for his profanity than his stupidity. Yet +this same star-gazing it is that we miscall reflection. Thus, in our +blank wonder at Nature, in our naked analysis of her life, expressed +through long lists of genera and species and mathematical calculations, +as if we were calling off the roll of creation, or as if her depth of +meaning rested in her vast orbs and incalculable velocities,--in all +this we fail of her real mystery. + +To mere external seeming, the Eleusinia point to Demeter for their +interpretation. To _her_ are they consecrated,--of her grief are they +commemorative; out of reverence to her do the _mystae_ purify themselves +by lustration and by the sacrifice that may not be tasted; she it is who +is symbolized, in the procession of the basket, as our Great Mother, +through the salt, wool, and sesame, which point to her bountiful +gifts,--while by the poppies and pomegranates it is hinted that she +nourishes in her heart some profound sorrow: by the former, that she +seeks to bury this sorrow in eternal oblivion,--by the latter, that it +must be eternally reiterated. The procession of the torches defines the +sorrow; and by this wild, despairing search in the darkness do we know +that her daughter Proserpine, plucking flowers in the fields of light, +has been snatched by ruthless Pluto to the realm of the Invisible. Then +by the procession of Iacchus we learn that divine aid has come to the +despairing Demeter; by the coming of, Aesculapius shall all her wounds +be healed; and the change in the evening from the _mystae_ to _epoptae_ is +because that now to Demeter, the cycle of her grief being accomplished, +the ways of Jove are made plain,--even his permission of violence from +unseen hands; to _her_ also is the final libation. + +But the story of the stolen Proserpina is itself an afterthought, a +fable invented to explain the Mysteries; and, however much it may have +modified them in detail, certainly could not have been their ground. Nor +is the sorrowing Demeter herself adequate to the solution. For the +Eleusinia are older than Eleusis,--older than Demeter, even the Demeter +of Thrace,--certainly as old as Isis, who was to Egypt what Demeter was +to Greece,--the Great Mother[2] of a thousand names, who also had _her_ +endlessly repeated sorrow for the loss of Osiris, and in honor of whom +the Egyptians held an annual festival. Thus we only remove the mystery +back to the very verge of myth itself; and we must either give up the +solution or take a different course. But perhaps Isis will reveal +herself, and at the same time unveil the Mysteries. Let us read her +tablet: "I am all that, has been, all that is, all that is to be; and +the veil which is over my face no mortal hand hath ever raised!" Now, +reader, would it not be strange, if, in solving _her_ mystery, we should +also solve the Sphinx's riddle? But so it is. This is the Sphinx in her +eldest shape,--this Isis of a thousand names; and the answer to her +ever-recurring riddle is always the same. In the Human Spirit is +infolded whatsoever has been, is, or shall be; and mortality cannot +reveal it! + +Not to Demeter, then, nor even to Isis, do the Eleusinia primarily +point, but to the human heart. We no longer look at them; henceforth +they are within us. Long has this mystic mother, the wonder of the +world, waited for the revelation of her face. Let us draw aside the +veil, (not by mortal hand,--it moves at your will,) and listen:-- + +"I am the First and the Last,--mother of gods and men. As deep as is my +mystery, so deep is my sorrow. For, lo! all generations are mine. But +the fairest fruit of my Holy Garden was plucked by my mortal children; +since which, Apollo among men and Artemis among women have raged with +their fearful arrows. My fairest children, whom I have brought forth and +nourished in the light, have been stolen by the children of darkness. By +the Flood they were taken; and I wandered forty days and forty nights +upon the waters, ere again I saw the face of the earth. Then, wherever I +went, I brought joy; at Cyprus the grasses sprang up beneath my feet, +the golden-filleted Horae crowned me with a wreath of gold and clothed me +in immortal robes. Then, also, was renewed my grief; for Adonis, whom I +had chosen, was slain in the chase and carried to Hades. Six months I +wept his loss, when he rose again and I triumphed. Thus in Egypt I +mourned for Osiris, for Atys in Phrygia, and for Proserpina at +Eleusis,--all of whom passed to the underworld, were restored for a +season, and then retaken. Thus is my sorrow repeated without end. All +things are taken from me. Night treads upon the heels of Day, the +desolation of Winter wastes the fair fruit of Summer, and Death walks in +the ways of Life with inexorable claims. But at the last, through Him, +my First-begotten and my Best-beloved, who also died and descended into +Hades, and the third day rose again,--through Him, having ceased from +wandering, I shall triumph in Infinite Joy!" + +_That_, reader, is not so difficult to translate into human language. +Thus, from the beginning to the end of the world, do these Mysteries, +under various names, shadow forth the great problem of human life, which +problem, as being fundamental, must be religious, the same that is +shadowed forth in Nature and Revelation, namely: man's sin, and his +redemption from sin,--his great loss, his infinite error, and his final +salvation. + +Sorrow, so strong a sense of which pervaded these Mysteries that it was +the name (Achtheia) by which Demeter was known to her mystic +worshippers,--_human_ sorrow it was which veiled the eyelids; toward +which veiling (or _muesis_) the lotus about the head of Isis and the +poppy in the hand of Demeter distinctly point. Hence the _mystae_, whom +the reader must suppose to have closed their eyes to all without +them,--even to Nature, except as in sympathy she mirrors forth the +central sorrow of their hearts. But this same sorrow and its mighty +work, veiled from all mortal vision, shut out by very necessity from any +sympathy save that of God, is a preparation for a purer vision,--a +second initiation, in which the eyes shall be reopened and the _mystae_ +become _epoptae_; and of such significance was this higher vision to the +Greek, that it was a synonyme for the highest earthly happiness and a +foretaste of Elysium. + +As this vision of the _epoptae_ was the vision of real faith, so the +_muesis_, or veiling of the _mystae_, was no mere affectation of +mysticism. Not so easily could be set aside this weight of sorrow upon +the eyelids, which, notwithstanding that, leading to self, it leads to +wandering, leads also through Divine aid to that peace which passeth +all understanding. Thus were the Hebrews led out of Egyptian bondage +through wanderings in the Wilderness to the Promised Land. Even thus, +through rites and ceremonies which to us are hieroglyphics hard to be +deciphered, which are known only as shrouded in infinite sorrow,--as +dimly shadowing forth some wild search in darkness and some final +resurrection into light,--through these, many from Egypt and India and +Scythia, from Scandinavia and from the aboriginal forests of America, +have for unnumbered ages passed from a world of bewildering error to the +heaven of their hopes. To the eye of sense and to shallow infidelity, +this may seem absurd; but the foolishness of man is the wisdom of God to +the salvation of His erring children. Happy, indeed, are the initiated! +Blessed are the poor in spirit, the Pariah, and the slave,--all they +whose eyes are veiled with overshadowing sorrow! for only thus is +revealed the glory of human life! + +There are many things, kind reader, which, in our senseless staring, we +may call the signs of human weakness, but which, by a higher +interpretation, become revelations of human power. The gross and +pitiable features of the world are dissolved and clarified, when by an +impassioned sympathy we can penetrate to the heart of things. We are +about to pity the ragged vesture, the feeble knees, and the beseeching +hand of poverty, and the cries of the oppressed and the weary; but, at a +thought, Pity is slain by Reverence. We are ready to cry out against the +sluggish movement of the world and its lazy flux of life; but before the +satire is spoken, we are fascinated by an undercurrent of this same +world, earnest and full toward its sure goal,--of which, indeed, we only +dream; but "the dream is from God,"[3] and surer than sight. There is a +profounder calm than appears to the eye, in the quiet cottages scattered +up and down among the peaceful valleys; the rest of death is more +untroubled than the marble face which it leaves as its visible symbol; +and sleep, "the minor mystery of death," ([Greek: hypnos ta mikra tou +thanutou mysteria][4]) has a deeper significance than is revealed in any +external token. So what is sneeringly called the credulity of human +nature is its holy faith, and, in spite of all the hard facts which you +may charge upon it, is the glory of man. It introduces us into that +region where "nothing is unexpected, nothing impossible."[5] It was the +glory of our childhood, and by it childhood is made immortal. Myth +herself is ever a child,--a genuine child of the earth, indeed,--but +received among men as the child of Heaven. + +Upon the slightest material basis have been constructed myths and +miracles and fairy-tales without number; and so it must ever be. Thus +man asserts his own inherent strength of imagination and faith over +against the external fact. Whatsoever is facile to Imagination is also +facile to Faith. Easy, therefore, in our thoughts, is the transition +from the Cinder-wench in the ashes to the Cinderella of the palace; easy +the apotheosis of the slave, and the passage from the weary earth to the +fields of Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed. + +This flight of the Imagination, this vision of Faith,--_these_, reader, +are only for the _epoptae_. It matters not, that, by naked analysis, you +can prove that the palaces of our fancy and the temples of our faith are +but the baseless fabric of a dream. It may be that the greater part of +life is made up of dreams, and that wakefulness is merely incidental as +a relief to the picture. It may be, indeed, in the last analysis, that +the _ideal_ is the highest, if not the only _real_. + +For the sensible, palpable fact can, by the nature of things, exist for +us only in the Present. But, my dear reader, it is just here, in this +Present, that the tenure by which we have hold upon life is the most +frail and shadowy. For, by the strictest analysis, _there is no +Present_. The formula, _It is_, even before we can give it utterance, by +some subtile chemistry of logic, is resolved into _It was_ and _It +shall be_. Thus by our analysis do we retreat into the ideal. In the +deepest reflection, all that we call external is only the material basis +upon which our dreams are built; and the sleep that surrounds life +swallows up life,--all but a dim wreck of matter, floating this way and +that, and forever evanishing from sight. Complete the analysis, and we +lose even the shadow of the external Present, and only the Past and the +Future are left us as our sure inheritance. This is the first +initiation,--the veiling of the eyes to the external. But, as _epoptae_, +by the synthesis of this Past and Future in a living nature, we obtain a +higher, an ideal Present, comprehending within itself all that can be +real for us within us or without. This is the second initiation, in +which is unveiled to us the Present as a new birth from our own life. + +Thus the great problem of Idealism is symbolically solved in the +Eleusinia. For us there is nothing real except as we _realize_ it. Let +it be that myriads have walked upon the earth before us,--that each race +and generation has wrought its change and left its monumental record +upon pillar and pyramid and obelisk; set aside the ruin which Time has +wrought both upon the change and the record, levelling the cities and +temples of men, diminishing the shadows of the Pyramids, and rendering +more shadowy the names and memories of heroes,--obliterating even its +own ruin;--set aside this oblivion of Time, still there would be +hieroglyphics,--still to us all that comes from this abyss of Time +behind us, or from the abyss of Space around us, must be but dim and +evanescent imagery and empty reverberation of sound, except as, becoming +a part of our own life, by a new birth, it receives shape and +significance. Nothing can be unveiled to us till it is born of us. Thus +the _epoptae_ are both creators and interpreters. Strength of knowledge +and strength of purpose, lying at the foundation of our own nature, +become also the measure of our interpretation of all Nature. Therefore +in each successive cycle of human history, as we realize more completely +the great Ideal, our appreciation of the Past increases, and our hope of +the Future. The difference lies not in the _data_ of history, but in +what we make of the _data_. + +We cannot see too clearly that the great problem of life, in Philosophy, +Art, or Religion, is essentially the same from the beginning. Like +Nature, indeed, it repeats itself under various external phases, in +different ages and under different skies. History whispers from her +antediluvian lips of a race of giants; so does the earth reveal mammoths +and stupendous forests. But the wonder neither of Man nor of Nature was +greater then than now. We say much, too, of Progress. But the progress +does not consist in a change of the fundamental problem of the race; we +have only learned to use our material so that we effect our changes more +readily, and write our record with a finer touch and in clearer outline. +The progress is in the facility and elaboration, and may be measured in +Space and Time; but the Ideal is ever the same and immeasurable. Homer +is hard to read; but when once you have read him you have read all +poetry. Or suppose that Orpheus, instead of striving with his mythic +brother Cheiron, were to engage in a musical contest with Mozart, and +you, reader? were to adjudge the prize. Undoubtedly you would give the +palm to Mozart. Not that Mozart is the better musician; the difficulty +is all in your ear, my friend. If you could only hear the nice +vibrations of the "golden shell," you might reverse your decision. + +So in Religion; the central idea, if you can only discern it, is ever +the same. She no longer, indeed, looks with the bewildered gaze of her +childhood to the mountains and rivers, to the sun, moon, and stars, for +aid. In the fulness of time the veil is rent in twain, and she looks +beyond with a clearer eye to the surer signs that are visible of her +unspeakable glory. But the longing of her heart is ever the same. + +What remains to us of ancient systems of faith is, for the most part, +mere name and shadow. It is even more difficult for us to realize to +ourselves a single ceremony of Grecian worship,--for instance, a dance +in honor of Apollo,--in its subtile meaning, than it would be to +appreciate the "Prometheus" of AEschylus. This ignorance leads oftentimes +to the most shocking profanation; and from mere lack of vision we +ridicule much that should call forth our reverence. + +Thus many Christian writers have sought to throw ridicule upon the +Eleusinia. But we must remember, that, to Greece, throughout her whole +history, they presented a well-defined system of faith,--that, +essentially, they even served the function of a church by their inherent +idea of divine discipline and purification and the hope which they ever +held out of future resurrection and glory. Why, then, you ask, if they +were so pure and full of meaning, why was not such a man as Socrates one +of the Initiated? The reason, reader, was simply this: What the +Eleusinia furnished to Greece, that Socrates furnished to himself. That +man who could stand stock-still a whole day, lost in silent +contemplation, what was the need to him of the Eleusinian veil? The most +self-sufficient man in all Greece, who could find the way directly to +himself and to the mystery and responsibility of his own will without +the medium of external rites, to whom there were the ever-present +intimations of his strange Divinity,--what need to him of the Eleusinian +revealings or their sublime self-intuition ([Greek: autopsia])? He had +his own separate tragedy also. And when with his last words he requested +that a cock be sacrificed to AEsculapius, that, reader, was to indicate +that to him had come the eighth day of the drama, in which the Great +Physician brings deliverance,--and in the evening of which there should +be the final unveiling of the eyes in the presence of the Great +Hierophant! + +Such were the Eleusinia of Greece. But what do they mean to us? We have +already hinted at their connection with the Sphinx's riddle. It is +through this connection that they receive their most general +significance; for this riddle is the riddle of the race, and the problem +which it involves can be adequately realized only in the life of the +race. To Greece, as peculiarly sensitive to all that is tragical, the +Sphinx connected her questions most intimately with human sorrow, either +in the individual or the household. + +"Who is it," thus the riddle ran, "who is it that in the morning creeps +upon all-fours, touching the earth in complete dependence,--and at noon, +grown into the fulness of beauty and strength, walks erect with his face +toward heaven,--but at the going down of the sun, returns again to his +original frailty and dependence?" + +This, answered Oedipus, is Man; and most fearfully did he realize it in +his own life! In the mysteries of the Eleusinia there is the same +prominence of human sorrow,--only here the Sphinx propounds her riddle +in its religious phase; and in the change from the _mystae_ to the +_epoptae_, in the revelation of the central self, was the great problem +symbolically realized. + +Greece had her reckoning; and to her eye the Sphinx long ago seemed to +plunge herself headlong into precipitate destruction. But this strange +lady is ever reappearing with her awful alternative: they who cannot +solve her riddle must die. It is no trifling account, reader, which we +have with this lady. For now her riddle has grown to fearful +proportions, connecting itself with the rise and fall of empires, with +the dim realm of superstition, with vast systems of philosophy and +faith. And the answer is always the same: "That which hath been is that +which shall be; and that which hath been is named already,--and it is +known that it is Man." + +What is it that shall explain the difference between our map of the +world and that of Sesostris or Anaximander? Geological deposits, the +washing away of mountains, and the change of river-courses are certainly +but trifling in such an account. But an Argonautic expedition, a Trojan +siege, a Jewish exodus, Nomadic invasions, and the names of Hanno, +Caesar, William the Conqueror, and Columbus, suggest an explanation. It +is the flux of human life which must account for the flowing outline of +the earth's geography. As with the terrestrial, so with the celestial. +The heavens change by a subtiler movement than the precession of the +equinoxes. In Job, "Behold the height of the stars, how high they are!" +but to Homer they bathe in the Western seas; while to us, they are again +removed to an incalculable distance,--but at the same time so near, +that, in our hopes, they are the many mansions of our Father's house, +the stepping-stones to our everlasting rest. + +But there is also another map, reader, more shadowy in its outline, of +an invisible region, neither of the heavens nor of the earth,--but +having vague relations to each, with a secret history of its own, of +which now and then strange tales and traditions are softly whispered in +our ear,--where each of us has been, though no two ever tell the same +story of their wanderings. Strange to say, each one calls all other +tales superstitions and old-wives' fables; but observe, he always +trembles when he tells his own. But they are all true; there is not one +old-wife's fable on the list. Necromancers have had private interviews +with visitors who had no right to be seen this side the Styx. The Witch +of Endor and the raising of Samuel were literal facts. Above all others, +the Nemesis and Eumenides were facts not to be withstood. And, +philosophize as we may, ghosts have been seen at dead of night, and not +always under the conduct of Mercury;[6] even the Salem witchcraft was +very far from being a humbug. They are all true,--the gibbering ghost, +the riding hag, the enchantment of wizards, and all the miracles of +magic, none of which we have ever seen with the eye, but all of which we +believe at heart. But who is it that weirdly draws aside the dark +curtain? Who is this mystic lady, ever weaving at her loom,--weaving +long ago, and weaving yet,--singing with unutterable sadness, as she +interweaves with her web all the sorrows and shadowy fears that ever +were or that ever shall be? We know, indeed, that she weaves the web of +Fate and the curtain of the Invisible; for we have seen her work. We +know, too, that she alone can show the many-colored web or draw aside +the dark curtain; for we have seen her revelations. But who is _she_? + +Ay, reader, the Sphinx puts close questions now and then; but there is +only one answer that can satisfy her or avert death. This person,--the +only real mystery which can exist for you,--of all things the most +familiar, and at the same the most unfamiliar,--is yourself! You need +not speak in whispers. It is true, this lady has a golden quiver as well +as a golden distaff; but her arrows are all for those who cannot solve +her riddle. + +Protagoras, then, was right; and, looking back through these twenty-two +centuries, we nod assent to his grand proposition: "Man is the measure +of all things,--of the possible, how it is,--of the impossible, how it +is not." In the individual life are laid the foundations of the +universe, and upon each individual artist depend the symmetry and +meaning of the constructed whole. This Master-Artist it is who holds the +keys of life and death; and whatsoever he shall bind or loose in his +consciousness shall be bound or loosed throughout the universe. Apart +from him, Nature is resolved into an intangible, shapeless vanity of +silence and darkness,--without a name, and, in fact, no Nature at all. +To man, all Nature must be human in some soul. God himself is worshipped +under a human phase; and it is here that Christianity, the flower of all +Faith, furnishes the highest answer and realization of this world-riddle +of the Sphinx,--here that it rests its eternal Truth, even as here it +secures its unfailing appeal to the human heart! + +The process by which any nature is _realized_ is the process by which it +is _humanized_. Thus are all things given to us for an inheritance. Let +it be, that, apart from us, the universe sinks into insignificance and +nothingness; _to_ us it is a royal possession; and we are all kings, +with a dominion as unlimited as our desire. _Ubi Caesar, ibi Roma!_ Rome +is the world; and each man, if he will, is Caesar. + +_If he will_;--ay, there's the rub! In the strength of his will lie +glory and absolute sway. But if he fail, then becomes evident the +frailty of his tenure,--"he is a king of shreds and patches!" + +Here is the crying treachery; and thus it happens that there are slaves +and craven hearts. This is the profound pathos of history, (for the +Sphinx has always more or less of sadness in her face,) which enters so +inevitably into all human triumphs. The monuments of Egypt, the palaces +and tombs of her kings,--revelations of the strength of will,--also by +inevitable suggestions call to our remembrance successive generations of +slaves and their endless toil. Morn after morn, at sunrise, for +thousands of years, did Memnon breathe forth his music, that his name +might be remembered upon the earth; but his music was the swell of a +broken harp, and his name was whispered in mournful silence! Among the +embalmed dead, in urn-burials, in the midst of catacombs, and among the +graves upon our hillsides and in our valleys, there lurks the same sad +mockery. Surely "purple Death and the strong Fates do conquer us!" +Strangely, in vast solitudes, comes over us a sense of desolation, when +even the faintest adumbrations of life seem lost in the inertia of +mortality. In all pomp lurks the pomp of funeral; and we do now and then +pay homage to the grim skeleton king who sways this dusty earth,--yea, +who sways our hearts of dust! + +But it is only when we yield that we are conquered. "The daemon shall +not choose us, _but we shall choose our daemon_."[7] It is only when we +lose hold of our royal inheritance that Time is seen with his scythe and +the heritage becomes a waste. + +This is the failure, the central loss, over which Achtheia mourns. Happy +are the _epoptae_ who know this, who have looked the Sphinx in the face, +and escaped death! They are the seers, they the heroes! + +But "_Conx Ompax_!" + +And now, like good Grecians, let us make the double libation to our +lady,--toward the East and toward the West. That is an important point, +reader; for thus is recognized the intimate connection which our lady +has with the movements of Nature, in which her life is mirrored,-- +especially with the rising, the ongoing, and the waning of the day; and +you remember that this also was the relief of the Sphinx's riddle,--this +same movement from the rising to the setting sun. But prominently, as in +all worship, are our eyes turned toward the East,--toward the +resurrection. In the tomb of Memnon, at Thebes, are wrought two series +of paintings; in the one, through successive stages, the sun is +represented in his course from the East to the West,--and in the other +is represented, through various stages, his return to the Orient. It was +to this Orient that the old king looked, awaiting his regeneration. + +Thus, reader, in all nations,--by no mere superstition, but by a +glorious symbolism of Faith,--do the children of the earth lay them down +in their last sleep with their faces to the East. + + +[2] The worship of this Great Mother is not more wonderful for +its antiquity in time than for its prevalence as regards space. To the +Hindu she was the Lady Isani. She was the Ceres of Roman mythology, the +Cybele of Phrygia and Lydia, and the Disa of the North. According to +Tacitus, (_Germania_, c. 9,) she was worshipped by the ancient Suevi. +She was worshipped by the Muscovite, and representations of her are +found upon the sacred drums of the Laplanders. She swayed the ancient +world, from its southeast corner in India to Scandinavia in the +northwest; and everywhere she is the "Mater Dolorosa." And who is it, +reader, that in the Christian world struggles for life and power under +the name of the Holy Virgin, and through the sad features of the +Madonna? + +[3] _Iliad_, I. 63. + +[4] Euripides. + +[5] Archilochus. + +[6] This function of Mercury, as Psycho-Pompos, or conductor of +departed souls to Hades, is often misunderstood. He was a Pompos not so +much for the safety of the dead (though that was an important +consideration) as for the peace of the living. The Greeks had an +overwhelming fear of the dead, as is evident from the propitiatory rites +to their shades; hence the necessity of putting them under strict +charge,--even against their will. (Horace, I. Ode xxiv. 15.) All +Mercury's qualifications point to this office, by which he defends the +living against the invasions of the dead. Hence his craft and +agility;--for who so fleet and subtle as a ghost? + +[7] Plato's _Republic_, at the close. + + + + +THE MINISTER'S WOOING. + +[Continued.] + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mary returned to the house with her basket of warm, fresh eggs, which +she set down mournfully upon the table. In her heart there was one +conscious want and yearning, and that was to go to the friends of him +she had lost,--to go to his mother. The first impulse of bereavement is +to stretch out the hands towards what was nearest and dearest to the +departed. + +Her dove came fluttering down out of the tree, and settled on her hand, +and began asking in his dumb way to be noticed. Mary stroked his white +feathers, and bent her head down over them till they were wet with +tears. "Oh, birdie, you live, but he is gone!" she said. Then suddenly +putting it gently from her, and going near and throwing her arms around +her mother's neck,--"Mother," she said, "I want to go up to Cousin +Ellen's." (This was the familiar name by which she always called Mrs. +Marvyn.) "Can't you go with me, mother?" + +"My daughter, I have thought of it. I hurried about my baking this +morning, and sent word to Mr. Jenkyns that he needn't come to see about +the chimney, because I expected to go as soon as breakfast should be out +of the way. So, hurry, now, boil some eggs, and get on the cold beef and +potatoes; for I see Solomon and Amaziah coming in with the milk. They'll +want their breakfast immediately." + +The breakfast for the hired men was soon arranged on the table, and Mary +sat down to preside while her mother was going on with her +baking,--introducing various loaves of white and brown bread into the +capacious oven by means of a long iron shovel, and discoursing at +intervals with Solomon, with regard to the different farming operations +which he had in hand for the day. + +Solomon was a tall, large-boned man, brawny and angular; with a face +tanned by the sun, and graven with those considerate lines which New +England so early writes on the faces of her sons. He was reputed an +oracle in matters of agriculture and cattle, and, like oracles +generally, was prudently sparing of his responses. Amaziah was one of +those uncouth over-grown boys of eighteen whose physical bulk appears to +have so suddenly developed that the soul has more matter than she has +learned to recognize, so that the hapless individual is always awkwardly +conscious of too much limb; and in Amaziah's case, this consciousness +grew particularly distressing when Mary was in the room. He liked to +have her there, he said,--"but, somehow, she was so white and pretty, +she made him feel sort o' awful-like." + +Of course, as such poor mortals always do, he must, on this particular +morning, blunder into precisely the wrong subject. + +"S'pose you've heerd the news that Jeduthun Pettibone brought home in +the 'Flying Scud,' 'bout the wreck o' the 'Monsoon'; it's an awful +providence, that 'ar' is,--a'n't it? Why, Jeduthun says she jest crushed +like an egg-shell";--and with that Amaziah illustrated the fact by +crushing an egg in his great brown hand. + +Mary did not answer. She could not grow any paler than she was before; a +dreadful curiosity came over her, but her lips could frame no question. +Amaziah went on:-- + +"Ye see, the cap'en he got killed with a spar when the blow fust come +on, and Jim Marvyn he commanded; and Jeduthun says that he seemed to +have the spirit of ten men in him; he worked and he watched, and he was +everywhere at once, and he kep' 'em all up for three days, till finally +they lost their rudder, and went drivin' right onto the rocks. When, +they come in sight, he come up on deck, and says he, 'Well, my boys, +we're headin' right into eternity,' says he, 'and our chances for this +world a'n't worth mentionin', any on us; but we'll all have one try for +our lives. Boys, I've tried to do my duty by you and the ship,--but +God's will be done! All I have to ask now is, that, if any of you git to +shore, you'll find my mother and tell her I died thinkin' of her and +father and my dear friends.' That was the last Jeduthun saw of him; for +in a few minutes more the ship struck, and then it was every man for +himself. Laws! Jeduthun says there couldn't nobody have stood beatin' +agin them rocks, unless they was all leather and inger-rubber like him. +Why, he says the waves would take strong men and jest crush 'em against +the rocks like smashin' a pie-plate!" + +Here Mary's paleness became livid; she made a hasty motion to rise from +the table, and Solomon trod on the foot of the narrator. + +"You seem to forget that friends and relations has feelin's," he said, +as Mary hastily went into her own room. + +Amaziah, suddenly awakened to the fact that he had been trespassing, sat +with mouth half open and a stupefied look of perplexity on his face for +a moment, and then, rising hastily, said, "Well, Sol, I guess I'll go +an' yoke up the steers." + +At eight o'clock all the morning toils were over, the wide kitchen cool +and still, and the one-horse wagon standing at the door, into which +climbed Mary, her mother, and the Doctor; for, though invested with no +spiritual authority, and charged with no ritual or form for hours of +affliction, the religion of New England always expects her minister as a +first visitor in every house of mourning. + +The ride was a sorrowful and silent one. The Doctor, propped upon his +cane, seemed to reflect deeply. + +"Have you been at all conversant with the exercises of our young +friend's mind on the subject of religion?" he asked. + +Mrs. Scudder did not at first reply. The remembrance of James's last +letter flashed over her mind, and she felt the vibration of the frail +child beside her, in whom every nerve was quivering. After a moment, she +said,--"It does not become us to judge the spiritual state of any one. +James's mind was in an unsettled way when he left; but who can say what +wonders may have been effected by divine grace since then?" + +This conversation fell on the soul of Mary like the sound of clods +falling on a coffin to the ear of one buried alive;--she heard it with a +dull, smothering sense of suffocation. _That_ question to be +raised?--and about one, too, for whom she could have given her own soul? +At this moment she felt how idle is the mere hope or promise of personal +salvation made to one who has passed beyond the life of self, and struck +deep the roots of his existence in others. She did not utter a +word;--how could she? A doubt,--the faintest shadow of a doubt,--in such +a case, falls on the soul with the weight of mountain certainty; and in +that short ride she felt what an infinite pain may be locked in one +small, silent breast. + +The wagon drew up to the house of mourning. Cato stood at the gate, and +came forward, officiously, to help them out. "Mass'r and Missis will be +glad to see you," he said. "It's a drefful stroke has come upon 'em." + +Candace appeared at the door. There was a majesty of sorrow in her +bearing, as she received them. She said not a word, but pointed with her +finger towards the inner room; but as Mary lifted up her faded, weary +face to hers, her whole soul seemed to heave towards her like a billow, +and she took her up in her arms and broke forth into sobbing, and, +carrying her in, as if she had been a child, set her down in the inner +room and sat down beside her. + +Mrs. Marvyn and her husband sat together, holding each other's hands, +the open Bible between them. For a few moments nothing was to be heard +but sobs and unrestrained weeping, and then all kneeled down to pray. + +After they rose up, Mr. Zebedee Marvyn stood for a moment thoughtfully, +and then said,--"If it had pleased the Lord to give me a sure evidence +of my son's salvation, I could have given him up with all my heart; but +now, whatever there may be, I have seen none." He stood in an attitude +of hopeless, heart-smitten dejection, which contrasted painfully with +his usual upright carriage and the firm lines of his face. + +Mrs. Marvyn started as if a sword had pierced her, passed her arm round +Mary's waist, with a strong, nervous clasp, unlike her usual calm self, +and said,--"Stay with me, daughter, to-day!--stay with me!" + +"Mary can stay as long as you wish, cousin," said Mrs. Scudder; "we have +nothing to call her home." + +"_Come_ with me!" said Mrs. Marvyn to Mary, opening an adjoining door +into her bedroom, and drawing her in with a sort of suppressed +vehemence,--"I want you!--I must have you!" + +"Mrs. Marvyn's state alarms me," said her husband, looking +apprehensively after her when the door was closed; "she has not shed any +tears, nor slept any, since she heard this news. You know that her mind +has been in a peculiar and unhappy state with regard to religious things +for many years. I was in hopes she might feel free to open her exercises +of mind to the Doctor." + +"Perhaps she will feel more freedom with Mary," said the Doctor. "There +is no healing for such troubles except in unconditional submission to +Infinite Wisdom and Goodness. The Lord reigneth, and will at last bring +infinite good out of evil, whether _our_ small portion of existence be +included or not." + +After a few moments more of conference, Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor +departed, leaving Mary alone in the house of mourning. + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +We have said before, what we now repeat, that it is impossible to write +a story of New England life and manners for superficial thought or +shallow feeling. They who would fully understand the springs which moved +the characters with whom we now associate must go down with us to the +very depths. + +Never was there a community where the roots of common life shot down so +deeply, and were so intensely grappled around things sublime and +eternal. The founders of it were a body of confessors and martyrs, who +turned their backs on the whole glory of the visible, to found in the +wilderness a republic of which the God of Heaven and Earth should be the +sovereign power. For the first hundred years grew this community, shut +out by a fathomless ocean from the existing world, and divided by an +antagonism not less deep from all the reigning ideas of nominal +Christendom. + +In a community thus unworldly must have arisen a mode of thought, +energetic, original, and sublime. The leaders of thought and feeling +were the ministry, and we boldly assert that the spectacle of the early +ministry of New England was one to which the world gives no parallel. +Living an intense, earnest, practical life, mostly tilling the earth +with their own hands, they yet carried on the most startling and +original religious investigations with a simplicity that might have been +deemed audacious, were it not so reverential. All old issues relating to +government, religion, ritual, and forms of church organization having +for them passed away, they went straight to the heart of things, and +boldly confronted the problem of universal being. They had come out from +the world as witnesses to the most solemn and sacred of human rights. +They had accustomed themselves boldly to challenge and dispute all sham +pretensions and idolatries of past ages,--to question the right of kings +in the State, and of prelates in the Church; and now they turned the +same bold inquiries towards the Eternal Throne, and threw down their +glove in the lists as authorized defenders of every mystery in the +Eternal Government. The task they proposed to themselves was that of +reconciling the most tremendous facts of sin and evil, present and +eternal, with those conceptions of Infinite Power and Benevolence which +their own strong and generous natures enabled them so vividly to +realize. In the intervals of planting and harvesting, they were busy +with the toils of adjusting the laws of a universe. Solemnly simple, +they made long journeys in their old one-horse chaises, to settle with +each other some nice point of celestial jurisprudence, and to compare +their maps of the Infinite. Their letters to each other form a +literature altogether unique. Hopkins sends to Edwards the younger his +scheme of the universe, in which he starts with the proposition, that +God is infinitely above all obligations of any kind to his creatures. +Edwards replies with the brusque comment,--"This is wrong; God has no +more right to injure a creature than a creature has to injure God"; and +each probably about that time preached a sermon on his own views, which +was discussed by every farmer, in intervals of plough and hoe, by every +woman and girl, at loom, spinning-wheel, or wash-tub. New England was +one vast sea, surging from depths to heights with thought and discussion +on the most insoluble of mysteries. And it is to be added, that no man +or woman accepted any theory or speculation simply _as_ theory or +speculation; all was profoundly real and vital,--a foundation on which +actual life was based with intensest earnestness. + +The views of human existence which resulted from this course of training +were gloomy enough to oppress any heart which did not rise above them by +triumphant faith or sink below them by brutish insensibility; for they +included every moral problem of natural or revealed religion, divested +of all those softening poetries and tender draperies which forms, +ceremonies, and rituals had thrown around them in other parts and ages +of Christendom. The human race, without exception, coming into existence +"under God's wrath and curse," with a nature so fatally disordered, +that, although perfect free agents, men were infallibly certain to do +nothing to Divine acceptance until regenerated by the supernatural aid +of God's Spirit,--this aid being given only to a certain decreed number +of the human race, the rest, with enough free agency to make them +responsible, but without this indispensable assistance exposed to the +malignant assaults of evil spirits versed in every art of temptation, +were sure to fall hopelessly into perdition. The standard of what +constituted a true regeneration, as presented in such treatises as +Edwards on the Affections, and others of the times, made this change to +be something so high, disinterested, and superhuman, so removed from all +natural and common habits and feelings, that the most earnest and +devoted, whose whole life had been a constant travail of endeavor, a +tissue of almost unearthly disinterestedness, often lived and died with +only a glimmering hope of its attainment. + +According to any views then entertained of the evidences of a true +regeneration, the number of the whole human race who could be supposed +as yet to have received this grace was so small, that, as to any +numerical valuation, it must have been expressed as an infinitesimal. +Dr. Hopkins in many places distinctly recognizes the fact, that the +greater part of the human race, up to his time, had been eternally +lost,--and boldly assumes the ground, that this amount of sin and +suffering, being the best and most necessary means of the greatest final +amount of happiness, was not merely permitted, but distinctly chosen, +decreed, and provided for, as essential in the schemes of Infinite +Benevolence. He held that this decree not only _permitted_ each +individual act of sin, but also took measures to make it certain, +though, by an exercise of infinite skill, it accomplished this result +without violating human free agency. + +The preaching of those times was animated by an unflinching consistency +which never shrank from carrying an idea to its remotest logical verge. +The sufferings of the lost were not kept from view, but proclaimed with +a terrible power. Dr. Hopkins boldly asserts, that "all the use which +God will have for them is to suffer; this is all the end they can +answer; therefore all their faculties, and their whole capacities, will +be employed and used for this end.... The body can by omnipotence be +made capable of suffering the greatest imaginable pain, without +producing dissolution, or abating the least degree of life or +sensibility.... One way in which God will show his power in the +punishment of the wicked will be in strengthening and upholding their +bodies and souls in torments which otherwise would be intolerable." + +The sermons preached by President Edwards on this subject are so +terrific in their refined poetry of torture, that very few persons of +quick sensibility could read them through without agony; and it is +related, that, when, in those calm and tender tones which never rose to +passionate enunciation, he read these discourses, the house was often +filled with shrieks and waitings, and that a brother minister once laid +hold of his skirts, exclaiming, in an involuntary agony, "Oh! Mr. +Edwards! Mr. Edwards! is God not a God of mercy?" + +Not that these men were indifferent or insensible to the dread words +they spoke; their whole lives and deportment bore thrilling witness to +their sincerity. Edwards set apart special days of fasting, in view of +the dreadful doom of the lost, in which he was wont to walk the floor, +weeping and wringing his hands. Hopkins fasted every Saturday. David +Brainerd gave up every refinement of civilized life to weep and pray at +the feet of hardened savages, if by any means he might save _one_. All, +by lives of eminent purity and earnestness, gave awful weight and +sanction to their words. + +If we add to this statement the fact, that it was always proposed to +every inquiring soul, as an evidence of regeneration, that it should +truly and heartily accept all the ways of God thus declared right and +lovely, and from the heart submit to Him as the only just and good, it +will be seen what materials of tremendous internal conflict and +agitation were all the while working in every bosom. Almost all the +histories of religious experience of those times relate paroxysms of +opposition to God and fierce rebellion, expressed in language which +appalls the very soul,--followed, at length, by mysterious elevations of +faith and reactions of confiding love, the result of Divine +interposition, which carried the soul far above the region of the +intellect, into that of direct spiritual intuition. + +President Edwards records that he was once in this state of +enmity,--that the facts of the Divine administration seemed horrible to +him,--and that this opposition was overcome by no course of reasoning, +but by an "_inward and sweet sense_," which came to him once when +walking alone in the fields, and, looking up into the blue sky, he saw +the blending of the Divine majesty with a calm, sweet, and almost +infinite meekness. + +The piety which grew up under such a system was, of necessity, +energetic,--it was the uprousing of the whole energy of the human soul, +pierced and wrenched and probed from her lowest depths to her topmost +heights with every awful life-force possible to existence. He whose +faith in God came clear through these terrible tests would be sure never +to know greater ones. He might certainly challenge earth or heaven, +things present or things to come, to swerve him from this grand +allegiance. + +But it is to be conceded, that these systems, so admirable in relation +to the energy, earnestness, and acuteness of their authors, when +received as absolute truth, and as a basis of actual life, had, on minds +of a certain class, the effect of a slow poison, producing life-habits +of morbid action very different from any which ever followed the simple +reading of the Bible. They differ from the New Testament as the living +embrace of a friend does from his lifeless body, mapped out under the +knife of the anatomical demonstrator;--every nerve and muscle is there, +but to a sensitive spirit there is the very chill of death in the +analysis. + +All systems that deal with the infinite are, besides, exposed to danger +from small, unsuspected admixtures of human error, which become deadly +when carried to such vast results. The smallest speck of earth's dust, +in the focus of an infinite lens, appears magnified among the heavenly +orbs as a frightful monster. + +Thus it happened, that, while strong spirits walked, palm-crowned, with +victorious hymns, along these sublime paths, feebler and more sensitive +ones lay along the track, bleeding away in life-long despair. Fearful to +them were the shadows that lay over the cradle and the grave. The mother +clasped her babe to her bosom, and looked with shuddering to the awful +coming trial of free agency, with its terrible responsibilities and +risks, and, as she thought of the infinite chances against her beloved, +almost wished it might die in infancy. But when the stroke of death +came, and some young, thoughtless head was laid suddenly low, who can +say what silent anguish of loving hearts sounded the dread depths of +eternity with the awful question, _Where_? + +In no other time or place of Christendom have so fearful issues been +presented to the mind. Some church interposed its protecting shield; the +Christian born and baptized child was supposed in some wise rescued from +the curse of the fall, and related to the great redemption,--to be a +member of Christ's family, and, if ever so sinful, still infolded in +some vague sphere of hope and protection. Augustine solaced the dread +anxieties of trembling love by prayers offered for the dead, in times +when the Church above and on earth presented itself to the eye of the +mourner as a great assembly with one accord lifting interceding hands +for the parted soul. + +But the clear logic and intense individualism of New England deepened +the problems of the Augustinian faith, while they swept away all those +softening provisions so earnestly clasped to the throbbing heart of that +great poet of theology. No rite, no form, no paternal relation, no faith +or prayer of church, earthly or heavenly, interposed the slightest +shield between the trembling spirit and Eternal Justice. The individual +entered eternity alone, as if he had no interceding relation in the +universe. + +This, then, was the awful dread which was constantly underlying life. +This it was which caused the tolling bell in green hollows and lonely +dells to be a sound which shook the soul and searched the heart with +fearful questions. And this it was that was lying with mountain weight +on the soul of the mother, too keenly agonized to feel that doubt in +such a case was any less a torture than the most dreadful certainty. + +Hers was a nature more reasoning than creative and poetic; and whatever +she believed bound her mind in strictest chains to its logical results. +She delighted in the regions of mathematical knowledge, and walked them +as a native home; but the commerce with abstract certainties fitted her +mind still more to be stiffened and enchained by glacial reasonings, in +regions where spiritual intuitions are as necessary as wings to birds. + +Mary was by nature of the class who never reason abstractly, whose +intellections all begin in the heart, which sends them colored with its +warm life-tint to the brain. Her perceptions of the same subjects were +as different from Mrs. Marvyn's as his who revels only in color from his +who is busy with the dry details of mere outline. The one mind was +arranged like a map, and the other like a picture. In all the system +which had been explained to her, her mind selected points on which it +seized with intense sympathy, which it dwelt upon and expanded till all +else fell away. The sublimity of disinterested benevolence,--the harmony +and order of a system tending in its final results to infinite +happiness,--the goodness of God,--the love of a self-sacrificing +Redeemer,--were all so many glorious pictures, which she revolved in her +mind with small care for their logical relations. + +Mrs. Marvyn had never, in all the course of their intimacy, opened her +mouth to Mary on the subject of religion. It was not an uncommon +incident of those times for persons of great elevation and purity of +character to be familiarly known and spoken of as living under a cloud +of religious gloom; and it was simply regarded as one more mysterious +instance of the workings of that infinite decree which denied to them +the special illumination of the Spirit. + +When Mrs. Marvyn had drawn Mary with her into her room, she seemed like +a person almost in frenzy. She shut and bolted the door, drew her to the +foot of the bed, and, throwing her arms round her, rested her hot and +throbbing forehead on her shoulder. She pressed her thin hand over her +eyes, and then, suddenly drawing back, looked her in the face as one +resolved to speak something long suppressed. Her soft brown eyes had a +flash of despairing wildness in them, like that of a hunted animal +turning in its death-struggle on its pursuer. + +"Mary," she said, "I can't help it,--don't mind what I say, but I must +speak or die! Mary, I cannot, will not, be resigned!--it is all hard, +unjust, cruel!--to all eternity I will say so! To me there is no +goodness, no justice, no mercy in anything! Life seems to me the most +tremendous doom that can be inflicted on a helpless being! _What had we +done_, that it should be sent upon us? Why were we made to love so, to +hope so,--our hearts so full of feeling, and all the laws of Nature +marching over us,--never stopping for our agony? Why, we can suffer so +in this life that we had better never have been born! + +"But, Mary, think what a moment life is! think of those awful ages of +eternity! and then think of all God's power and knowledge used on the +lost to make them suffer! think that all but the merest fragment of +mankind have gone into this,--are in it now! The number of the elect is +so small we can scarce count them for anything! Think what noble minds, +what warm, generous hearts, what splendid natures are wrecked and thrown +away by thousands and tens of thousands! How we love each other! how our +hearts weave into each other! how more than glad we should be to die for +each other! And all this ends--O God, how must it end?--Mary! it isn't +_my_ sorrow only! What right have I to mourn? Is _my_ son any better +than any other mother's son? Thousands of thousands, whose mothers loved +them as I love mine, are gone there!--Oh, my wedding-day! Why did they +rejoice? Brides should wear mourning,--the bells should toll for every +wedding; every new family is built over this awful pit of despair, and +only one in a thousand escapes!" + +Pale, aghast, horror-stricken, Mary stood dumb, as one who in the dark +and storm sees by the sudden glare of lightning a chasm yawning under +foot. It was amazement and dimness of anguish;--the dreadful words +struck on the very centre where her soul rested. She felt as if the +point of a wedge were being driven between her life and her life's +life,--between her and her God. She clasped her hands instinctively on +her bosom, as if to hold there some cherished image, and said in a +piercing voice of supplication, "_My_ God! _my_ God! oh, where art +Thou?" + +Mrs. Marvyn walked up and down the room with a vivid spot of red in each +cheek and a baleful fire in her eyes, talking in rapid soliloquy, +scarcely regarding her listener, absorbed in her own enkindled thoughts. + +"Dr. Hopkins says that this is all best,--better than it would have been +in any other possible way,--that God _chose_ it because it was for a +greater final good,--that He not only chose it, but took means to make +it certain,--that He ordains every sin, and does all that is necessary +to make it certain,--that He creates the vessels of wrath and fits them +for destruction, and that He has an infinite knowledge by which He can +do it without violating their free agency.--So much the worse! What a +use of infinite knowledge What if men should do so? What if a father +should take means to make it certain that his poor little child should +be an abandoned wretch, without violating his free agency? So much the +worse, I say!--They say He does this so that He may show to all +eternity, by their example, the evil nature of sin and its consequences! +This is all that the greater part of the human race have been used for +yet; and it is all right, because an overplus of infinite happiness is +yet to be wrought out by it!--It is _not_ right! No possible amount of +good to ever so many can make it right to deprave ever so +few;--happiness and misery cannot be measured so! I never can think it +right,--never!--Yet they say our salvation depends on our loving +God,--loving Him better than ourselves,--loving Him better than our +dearest friends.--It is impossible!--it is contrary to the laws of my +nature! I can never love God! I can never praise Him!--I am lost! lost! +lost! And what is worse, I cannot redeem my friends! Oh, I _could_ +suffer forever,--how willingly!--if I could save _him_!--But oh, +eternity, eternity! Frightful, unspeakable woe! No end!--no bottom!--no +shore!--no hope!--O God! O God!" + +Mrs. Marvyn's eyes grew wilder,--she walked the door, wringing her +hands,--and her words, mingled with shrieks and moans, became whirling +and confused, as when in autumn a storm drives the leaves in dizzy +mazes. + +Mary was alarmed,--the ecstasy of despair was just verging on insanity. +She rushed out and called Mr. Marvyn. + +"Oh! come in! do! quick!--I'm afraid her mind is going!" she said. + +"It is what I feared," he said, rising from where he sat reading his +great Bible, with an air of heartbroken dejection. "Since she heard this +news, she has not slept nor shed a tear. The Lord hath covered us with a +cloud in the day of his fierce anger." + +He came into the room, and tried to take his wife into his arms. She +pushed him violently back, her eyes glistening with a fierce light. +"Leave me alone!" she said,--"I am a lost spirit!" + +These words were uttered in a shriek that went through Mary's heart like +an arrow. + +At this moment, Candace, who had been anxiously listening at the door +for an hour past, suddenly burst into the room. + +"Lor' bress ye, Squire Marvyn, we won't hab her goin' on dis yer way," +she said. "Do talk _gospel_ to her, can't ye?--ef you can't, I will." + +"Come, ye poor little lamb," she said, walking straight up to Mrs. +Marvyn, "come to ole Candace!"--and with that she gathered the pale form +to her bosom, and sat down and began rocking her, as if she had been a +babe. "Honey, darlin', ye a'n't right,--dar's a drefful mistake +somewhar," she said. "Why, de Lord a'n't like what ye tink,--He _loves_ +ye, honey! Why, jes' feel how _I_ loves ye,--poor ole black +Candace,--an' I a'n't better'n Him as made me! Who was it wore de crown +o' thorns, lamb?--who was it sweat great drops o' blood?--who was it +said, 'Father, forgive dem'? Say, honey!--wasn't it de Lord dat made +ye?--Dar, dar, now ye'r' cryin'!--cry away, and ease yer poor little +heart! He died for Mass'r Jim,--loved him and _died_ for him,--jes' give +up his sweet, precious body and soul for him on de cross! Laws, jes' +_leave_ him in Jesus' hands! Why, honey, dar's de very print o' de nails +in his hands now!" + +The flood-gates were rent; and healing sobs and tears shook the frail +form, as a faded lily shakes under the soft rains of summer. All in the +room wept together. + +"Now, honey," said Candace, after a pause of some minutes, "I knows our +Doctor's a mighty good man, an' larned,--an' in fair weather I ha'n't +no 'bjection to yer hearin' all about dese yer great an' mighty tings +he's got to say. But, honey, dey won't do for you now; sick folks +mus'n't hab strong meat; an' times like dese, dar jest a'n't but one +ting to come to, an' dat ar's _Jesus_. Jes' come right down to whar poor +ole black Candace has to stay allers,--it's a good place, darlin'! _Look +right at Jesus_. Tell ye, honey, ye can't live no other way now. Don't +ye 'member how He looked on His mother, when she stood faintin' an' +tremblin' under de cross, jes' like you? He knows all about mothers' +hearts; He won't break yours. It was jes' 'cause He know'd we'd come +into straits like dis yer, dat he went through all dese tings,--Him, de +Lord o' Glory! Is dis Him you was a-talkin' about?--Him you can't love? +Look at Him, an' see ef you can't. Look an' see what He is!--don't ask +no questions, and don't go to no reasonin's,--jes' look at _Him_, +hangin' dar, so sweet and patient, on de cross! All dey could do +couldn't stop his lovin' 'em; he prayed for 'em wid all de breath he +had. Dar's a God you can love, a'n't dar? Candace loves Him,--poor, ole, +foolish, black, wicked Candace,--and she knows He loves her,"--and here +Candace broke down into torrents of weeping. + +They laid the mother, faint and weary, on her bed, and beneath the +shadow of that suffering cross came down a healing sleep on those weary +eyelids. + +"Honey," said Candace, mysteriously, after she had drawn Mary out of the +room, "don't ye go for to troublin' yer mind wid dis yer. I'm clar +Mass'r James is one o' de 'lect; and I'm clar dar's consid'able more o' +de 'lect dan people tink. Why, Jesus didn't die for nothin',--all dat +love a'n't gwine to be wasted. De 'lect is more'n you or I knows, honey! +Dar's de _Spirit_,--He'll give it to 'em; and ef Mass'r James _is_ +called an' took, depend upon it de Lord has got him ready,--course He +has,--so don't ye go to layin' on yer poor heart what no mortal creetur +can live under; 'cause, as we's got to live in dis yer world, it's quite +clar de Lord must ha' fixed it so we _can_; and ef tings was as some +folks suppose, why, we _couldn't_ live, and dar wouldn't be no sense in +anyting dat goes on." + +The sudden shock of these scenes was followed, in Mrs. Marvyn's case, by +a low, lingering fever. Her room was darkened, and she lay on her bed, a +pale, suffering form, with scarcely the ability to raise her hand. The +shimmering twilight of the sick-room fell on white napkins, spread over +stands, where constantly appeared new vials, big and little, as the +physician, made his daily visit, and prescribed now this drug and now +that, for a wound that had struck through the soul. + +Mary remained many days at the white house, because, to the invalid, no +step, no voice, no hand was like hers. We see her there now, as she sits +in the glimmering by the bed-curtains,--her head a little drooped, as +droops a snowdrop over a grave;--one ray of light from a round hole in +the closed shutters falls on her smooth-parted hair, her small hands are +clasped on her knees, her mouth has lines of sad compression, and in her +eyes are infinite questionings. + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +When Mrs. Marvyn began to amend, Mary returned to the home cottage, and +resumed the details of her industrious and quiet life. + +Between her and her two best friends had fallen a curtain of silence. +The subject that filled all her thoughts could not be named between +them. The Doctor often looked at her pale cheeks and drooping form with +a face of honest sorrow, and heaved deep sighs as she passed; but he did +not find any power within himself by which he could approach her. When +he would speak, and she turned her sad, patient eyes so gently on him, +the words went back again to his heart, and there, taking a second +thought, spread upward wing in prayer. + +Mrs. Scudder sometimes came to her room after she was gone to bed, and +found her weeping; and when gently she urged her to sleep, she would +wipe her eyes so patiently and turn her head with such obedient +sweetness, that her mother's heart utterly failed her. For hours Mary +sat in her room with James's last letter spread out before her. How +anxiously had she studied every word and phrase in it, weighing them to +see if the hope of eternal life were in them! How she dwelt on those +last promises! Had he kept them? Ah! to die without one word more! Would +no angel tell her?--would not the loving God, who knew all, just whisper +one word? He must have read the little Bible! What had he thought? What +did he feel in that awful hour when he felt himself drifting on to that +fearful eternity? Perhaps he had been regenerated,--perhaps there had +been a sudden change;--who knows?--she had read of such +things;--_perhaps_--Ah, in that perhaps lies a world of anguish! Love +will not hear of it. Love _dies_ for certainty. Against an uncertainty +who can brace the soul? We put all our forces of faith and prayer +against it, and it goes down just as a buoy sinks in the water, and the +next moment it is up again. The soul fatigues itself with efforts which +come and go in waves; and when with laborious care she has adjusted all +things in the light of hope, back flows the tide, and sweeps all away. +In such struggles life spends itself fast; an inward wound does not +carry one deathward more surely than this worst wound of the soul. God +has made us so mercifully that there is no _certainty_, however +dreadful, to which life-forces do not in time adjust themselves,--but to +uncertainty there is no possible adjustment. Where is he? Oh, question +of questions!--question which we suppress, but which a power of infinite +force still urges on the soul, who feels a part of herself torn away. + +Mary sat at her window in evening hours, and watched the slanting +sunbeams through the green blades of grass, and thought one year ago he +stood there, with his well-knit, manly form, his bright eye, his buoyant +hope, his victorious mastery of life! And where was he now? Was his +heart as sick, longing for her, as hers for him? Was he looking back to +earth and its joys with pangs of unutterable regret? or had a divine +power interpenetrated his soul, and lighted there the flame of a +celestial love which bore him far above earth? If he were among the +lost, in what age of eternity could she ever be blessed? Could Christ be +happy, if those who were one with Him were sinful and accursed? and +could Christ's own loved ones be happy, when those with whom they have +exchanged being, in whom they live and feel, are as wandering stars, for +whom is reserved the mist of darkness forever? She had been taught that +the agonies of the lost would be forever in sight of the saints, without +abating in the least their eternal joys; nay, that they would find in it +increasing motives to praise and adoration. Could it be so? Would the +last act of the great Bridegroom of the Church be to strike from the +heart of his purified Bride those yearnings of self-devoting love which +His whole example had taught her, and in which she reflected, as in a +glass, His own nature? If not, is there not some provision by which +those roots of deathless love which Christ's betrothed ones strike into +other hearts shall have a divine, redeeming power? Question vital as +life-blood to ten thousand hearts,--fathers, mothers, wives, +husbands,--to all who feel the infinite sacredness of love! + +After the first interview with Mrs. Marvyn, the subject which had so +agitated them was not renewed. She had risen at last from her sick-bed, +as thin and shadowy as a faded moon after sunrise. Candace often shook +her head mournfully, as her eyes followed her about her dally tasks. +Once only, with Mary, she alluded to the conversation which had passed +between them;--it was one day when they were together, spinning, in the +north upper room that looked out upon the sea. It was a glorious day. A +ship was coming in under full sail, with white gleaming wings. Mrs. +Marvyn watched it a few moments,--the gay creature, so full of exultant +life,--and then smothered down an inward groan, and Mary thought she +heard her saying, "Thy will be done!" + +"Mary," she said, gently, "I hope you will forget all I said to you that +dreadful day. It had to be said, or I should have died. Mary, I begin to +think that it is not best to stretch our minds with reasonings where we +are so limited, where we can know so little. I am quite sure there must +be dreadful mistakes somewhere. + +"It seems to me irreverent and shocking that a child should oppose a +father, or a creature its Creator. I never should have done it, only +that, where direct questions are presented to the judgment, one cannot +help judging. If one is required to praise a being as just and good, one +must judge of his actions by some standard of right,--and we have no +standard but such as our Creator has placed in us. I have been told it +was my duty to attend to these subjects, and I have tried to,--and the +result has been that the facts presented seem wholly irreconcilable with +any notions of justice or mercy that I am able to form. If these be the +facts, I can only say that my nature is made entirely opposed to them. +If I followed the standard of right they present, and acted according to +my small mortal powers on the same principles, I should be a very bad +person. Any father, who should make such use of power over his children +as they say the Deity does with regard to us, would be looked upon as a +monster by our very imperfect moral sense. Yet I cannot say that the +facts are not so. When I heard the Doctor's sermons on 'Sin a Necessary +Means of the Greatest Good,' I could not extricate myself from the +reasoning. + +"I have thought, in desperate moments, of giving up the Bible itself. +But what do I gain? Do I not see the same difficulty in Nature? I see +everywhere a Being whose main ends seem to be beneficent, but whose good +purposes are worked out at terrible expense of suffering, and apparently +by the total sacrifice of myriads of sensitive creatures. I see +unflinching order, general good-will, but no sympathy, no mercy. Storms, +earthquakes, volcanoes, sickness, death, go on without regarding us. +Everywhere I see the most hopeless, unrelieved suffering,--and for aught +I see, it may be eternal. Immortality is a dreadful chance, and I would +rather never have been.--The Doctor's dreadful system is, I confess, +much like the laws of Nature,--about what one might reason out from +them. + +"There is but just one thing remaining, and that is, as Candace said, +the cross of Christ. If God so loved us,--if He died for us,--greater +love hath no man than this. It seems to me that love is shown here in +the two highest forms possible to our comprehension. We see a Being who +gives himself for us,--and more than that, harder than that, a Being who +consents to the suffering of a dearer than self. Mary, I feel that I +must love more, to give up one of my children to suffer, than to consent +to suffer myself. There is a world of comfort to me in the words, 'He +that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall +he not with him also freely give us all things?' These words speak to my +heart. I can interpret them by my own nature, and I rest on them. If +there is a fathomless mystery of sin and sorrow, there is a deeper +mystery of God's love. So, Mary, I try Candace's way,--I look at +Christ,--I pray to Him. If he that hath seen Him hath seen the Father, +it is enough. I rest there,--I wait. What I know not now I shall know +hereafter." + +Mary kept all things and pondered them in her heart. She could speak to +no one,--not to her mother, nor to her spiritual guide; for had she not +passed to a region beyond theirs? As well might those on the hither side +of mortality instruct the souls gone beyond the veil as souls outside a +great affliction guide those who are struggling in it. That is a mighty +baptism, and only Christ can go down with us into those waters. + +Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor only marked that she was more than ever +conscientious in every duty, and that she brought to life's daily +realities something of the calmness and disengagedness of one whose soul +has been wrenched by a mighty shock from all moorings here below. Hopes +did not excite, fears did not alarm her; life had no force strong enough +to awaken a thrill within; and the only subjects on which she ever spoke +with any degree of ardor were religious subjects. + +One who should have seen moving about the daily ministrations of the +cottage a pale girl, whose steps were firm, whose eye was calm, whose +hands were ever busy, would scarce imagine that through that silent +heart were passing tides of thought that measured a universe; but it was +even so. Through that one gap of sorrow flowed in the whole awful +mystery of existence, and silently, as she spun and sewed, she thought +over and over again all that she had ever been taught, and compared and +revolved it by the light of a dawning inward revelation. + +Sorrow is the great birth-agony of immortal powers,--sorrow is the great +searcher and revealer of hearts, the great test of truth; for Plato has +wisely said, sorrow will not endure sophisms,--all shams and unrealities +melt in the fire of that awful furnace. Sorrow reveals forces in +ourselves we never dreamed of. The soul, a bound and sleeping prisoner, +hears her knock on her cell-door, and wakens. Oh, how narrow the walls! +oh, how close and dark the grated window! how the long useless wings +beat against the impassable barriers! Where are we? What is this prison? +What is beyond? Oh for more air, more light! When will the door be +opened? The soul seems to itself to widen and deepen; it trembles at its +own dreadful forces; it gathers up in waves that break with wailing only +to flow back into the everlasting void. The calmest and most centred +natures are sometimes thrown by the shock of a great sorrow into a +tumultuous amazement. All things are changed. The earth no longer seems +solid, the skies no longer secure; a deep abyss seems underlying every +joyous scene of life. The soul, struck with this awful inspiration, is a +mournful Cassandra; she sees blood on every threshold, and shudders in +the midst of mirth and festival with the weight of a terrible wisdom. + +Who shall dare be glad any more, that has once seen the frail +foundations on which love and joy are built? Our brighter hours, have +they only been weaving a network of agonizing remembrances for this day +of bereavement? The heart is pierced with every past joy, with every +hope of its ignorant prosperity. Behind every scale in music, the gayest +and cheeriest, the grandest, the most triumphant, lies its dark relative +minor; the notes are the same, but the change of a semitone changes all +to gloom;--all our gayest hours are tunes that have a modulation into +these dreary keys ever possible; at any moment the key-note may be +struck. + +The firmest, best-prepared natures are often beside themselves with +astonishment and dismay, when they are called to this dread initiation. +They thought it a very happy world before,--a glorious universe. Now it +is darkened with the shadow of insoluble mysteries. Why this everlasting +tramp of inevitable laws on quivering life? If the wheels must roll, why +must the crushed be so living and sensitive? + +And yet sorrow is godlike, sorrow is grand and great, sorrow is wise and +farseeing. Our own instinctive valuations, the intense sympathy which we +give to the tragedy which God has inwoven into the laws of Nature, show +us that it is with no slavish dread, no cowardly shrinking, that we +should approach her divine mysteries. What are the natures that cannot +suffer? Who values them? From the fat oyster, over which the silver +tide rises and falls without one pulse upon its fleshy ear, to the hero +who stands with quivering nerve parting with wife and child and home for +country and God, all the way up is an ascending scale, marked by +increasing power to suffer; and when we look to the Head of all being, +up through principalities and powers and princedoms, with dazzling +orders and celestial blazonry, to behold by what emblem the Infinite +Sovereign chooses to reveal himself, we behold, in the midst of the +throne, "a lamb as it had been slain." + +Sorrow is divine. Sorrow is reigning on the throne of the universe, and +the crown of all crowns has been one of thorns. There have been many +books that treat of the mystery of sorrow, but only one that bids us +glory in tribulation, and count it all joy when we fall into divers +afflictions, that so we may be associated with that great fellowship of +suffering of which the Incarnate God is the head, and through which He +is carrying a redemptive conflict to a glorious victory over evil. If we +suffer with Him, we shall also reign with Him. + +Even in the very making up of our physical nature, God puts suggestions +of such a result. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the +morning." There are victorious powers in our nature which are all the +while working for us in our deepest pain. It is said, that, after the +sufferings of the rack, there ensues a period in which the simple repose +from torture produces a beatific trance; it is the reaction of Nature, +asserting the benignant intentions of her Creator. So, after great +mental conflicts and agonies must come a reaction, and the Divine +Spirit, co-working with our spirit, seizes the favorable moment, and, +interpenetrating natural laws with a celestial vitality, carries up the +soul to joys beyond the ordinary possibilities of mortality. + +It is said that gardeners, sometimes, when they would bring a rose to +richer flowering, deprive it, for a season, of light and moisture. +Silent and dark it stands, dropping one fading leaf after another, and +seeming to go down patiently to death. But when every leaf is dropped, +and the plant stands stripped to the uttermost, a new life is even then +working in the buds, from which shall spring a tender foliage and a +brighter wealth of flowers. So, often in celestial gardening, every leaf +of earthly joy must drop, before a new and divine bloom visits the soul. + +Gradually, as months passed away, the floods grew still; the mighty +rushes of the inner tides ceased to dash. There came first a delicious +calmness, and then a celestial inner clearness, in which the soul seemed +to lie quiet as an untroubled ocean, reflecting heaven. Then came the +fulness of mysterious communion given to the pure in heart,--that advent +of the Comforter in the soul, teaching all things and bringing all +things to remembrance; and Mary moved in a world transfigured by a +celestial radiance. Her face, so long mournfully calm, like some +chiselled statue of Patience, now wore a radiance, as when one places a +light behind some alabaster screen sculptured with mysterious and holy +emblems, and words of strange sweetness broke from her, as if one should +hear snatches of music from a door suddenly opened in heaven. Something +wise and strong and sacred gave an involuntary impression of awe in her +looks and words;--it was not the childlike loveliness of early days, +looking with dovelike, ignorant eyes on sin and sorrow; but the +victorious sweetness of that great multitude who have come out of great +tribulation, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood +of the Lamb. In her eyes there was that nameless depth that one sees +with awe in the Sistine Madonna,--eyes that have measured infinite +sorrow and looked through it to an infinite peace. + +"My dear Madam," said the Doctor to Mrs. Scudder, "I cannot but think +that there must be some uncommonly gracious exercises passing in the +mind of your daughter; for I observe, that, though she is not inclined +to conversation, she seems to be much in prayer; and I have, of late, +felt the sense of a Divine Presence with her in a most unusual degree. +Has she opened her mind to you?" + +"Mary was always a silent girl," said Mrs. Scudder, "and not given to +speaking of her own feelings; indeed, until she gave you an account of +her spiritual state, on joining the church, I never knew what her +exercises were. Hers is a most singular case. I never knew the time when +she did not seem to love God more than anything else. It has disturbed +me sometimes,--because I did not know but it might be mere natural +sensibility, instead of gracious affection." + +"Do not disturb yourself, Madam," said the Doctor. "The Spirit worketh +when, where, and how He will; and, undoubtedly, there have been cases +where His operations commence exceedingly early. Mr. Edwards relates a +case of a young person who experienced a marked conversion when three +years of age; and Jeremiah was called from the womb. (Jeremiah, i. 5.) +In all cases we must test the quality of the evidence without relation +to the time of its commencement. I do not generally lay much stress on +our impressions, which are often uncertain and delusive; yet I have had +an impression that the Lord would be pleased to make some singular +manifestations of His grace through this young person. In the economy of +grace there is neither male nor female; and Peter says (Acts, ii. 17) +that the Spirit of the Lord shall be poured out and your sons and your +daughters shall prophesy. Yet if we consider that the Son of God, as to +his human nature, was made of a woman, it leads us to see that in +matters of grace God sets a special value on woman's nature and designs +to put special honor upon it. Accordingly, there have been in the +Church, in all ages, holy women who have received the Spirit and been +called to a ministration in the things of God,--such as Deborah, Huldah, +and Anna, the prophetess. In our own days, most uncommon manifestations +of divine grace have been given to holy women. It was my privilege to be +in the family of President Edwards at a time when Northampton was +specially visited, and his wife seemed and spoke more like a glorified +spirit than a mortal woman,--and multitudes flocked to the house to hear +her wonderful words. She seemed to have such a sense of the Divine love +as was almost beyond the powers of nature to endure. Just to speak the +words, 'Our Father who art in heaven,' would overcome her with such a +manifestation that she would become cold and almost faint; and though +she uttered much, yet she told us that the divinest things she saw could +not be spoken. These things could not be fanaticism, for she was a +person of a singular evenness of nature, and of great skill and +discretion in temporal matters, and of an exceeding humility, sweetness, +and quietness of disposition." + +"I have observed of late," said Mrs. Scudder, "that, in our praying +circles, Mary seemed much carried out of herself, and often as if she +would speak, and with difficulty holding herself back. I have not urged +her, because I thought it best to wait till she should feel full +liberty." + +"Therein you do rightly, Madam," said the Doctor; "but I am persuaded +you will hear from her yet." + +It came at length, the hour of utterance. And one day, in a praying +circle of the women of the church, all were startled by the clear silver +tones of one who sat among them and spoke with the unconscious +simplicity of an angel child, calling God her Father, and speaking of an +ineffable union in Christ, binding all things together in one, and +making all complete in Him. She spoke of a love passing +knowledge,--passing all love of lovers or of mothers,--a love forever +spending, yet never spent,--a love ever pierced and bleeding, yet ever +constant and triumphant, rejoicing with infinite joy to bear in its own +body the sins and sorrows of a universe,--conquering, victorious love, +rejoicing to endure, panting to give, and offering its whole self with +an infinite joyfulness for our salvation. And when, kneeling, she +poured out her soul in prayer, her words seemed so many winged angels, +musical with unearthly harpings of an untold blessedness. They who heard +her had the sensation of rising in the air, of feeling a celestial light +and warmth, descending into their souls; and when, rising, she stood +silent and with downcast drooping eyelids, there were tears in all eyes, +and a hush in all movements as she passed, as if something celestial +were passing out. + +Miss Prissy came rushing homeward, to hold a private congratulatory talk +with the Doctor and Mrs. Scudder, while Mary was tranquilly setting the +tea-table and cutting bread for supper. + +"To see her now, certainly," said Miss Prissy, "moving round so +thoughtful, not forgetting anything, and doing everything so calm, you +wouldn't 'a' thought it could be her that spoke those blessed words and +made that prayer! Well, certainly, that prayer seemed to take us all +right up and put us down in heaven! and when I opened my eyes, and saw +the roses and asparagus-bushes on the manteltree-piece, I had to ask +myself, 'Where have I been?' Oh, Miss Scudder, her afflictions have been +sanctified to her!--and really, when I see her going on so, I feel she +can't be long for us. They say, dying grace is for dying hours; and I'm +sure this seems more like dying grace than anything that I ever yet +saw." + +"She is a precious gift," said the Doctor; "let us thank the Lord for +his grace through her. She has evidently had a manifestation of the +Beloved, and feedeth among the lilies (Canticles, vi. 3); and we will +not question the Lord's further dispensations concerning her." + +"Certainly," said Miss Prissy, briskly, "it's never best to borrow +trouble; 'sufficient unto the day' is enough, to be sure.--And now, Miss +Scudder, I thought I'd just take a look at that dove-colored silk of +yours to-night, to see what would have to be done with it, because I +must make every minute tell; and you know I lose half a day every week +for the prayer-meeting. Though I ought not to say I lose it, either; for +I was telling Miss General Wilcox I wouldn't give up that meeting for +bags and bags of gold. She wanted me to come and sew for her one +Wednesday, and says I, 'Miss Wilcox, I'm poor and have to live by my +work, but I a'n't so poor but what I have some comforts, and I can't +give up my prayer-meeting for any money,--for you see, if one gets a +little lift there, it makes all the work go lighter,--but then I have to +be particular to save up every scrap and end of time." + +Mrs. Scudder and Miss Prissy crossed the kitchen and entered the +bedroom, and soon had the dove-colored silk under consideration. + +"Well, Miss Scudder," said Miss Prissy, after mature investigation, +"here's a broad hem, not cut at all on the edge, as I see, and that +might be turned down, and so cut off the worn spot up by the waist,--and +then, if it is turned, it will look every bit and grain as well as a new +silk;--I'll sit right down now and go to ripping. I put my ripping-knife +into my pocket when I put on this dress to go to prayer-meeting, +because, says I to myself, there'll be something to do at Miss Scudder's +to-night. You just get an iron to the fire, and we'll have it all ripped +and pressed out before dark." + +Miss Prissy seated herself at the open window, as cheery as a fresh +apple-blossom, and began busily plying her knife, looking at the garment +she was ripping with an astute air, as if she were about to circumvent +it into being a new dress by some surprising act of legerdemain. Mrs. +Scudder walked to the looking-glass and began changing her bonnet cap +for a tea-table one. + +Miss Prissy, after a while, commenced in a mysterious tone. + +"Miss Scudder, I know folks like me shouldn't have their eyes open too +wide, but then I can't help noticing some things. Did you see the +Doctor's face when we was talking to him about Mary? Why, he colored all +up and the tears came into his eyes. It's my belief that that blessed +man worships the ground she treads on. I don't mean _worships_, +either,--'cause that would be wicked, and he's too good a man to make a +graven image of anything,--but it's clear to see that there a'n't +anybody in the world like Mary to him. I always did think so; but I used +to think Mary was such a little poppet--that she'd do better for--Well, +you know, I thought about some younger man;--but, laws, now I see how +she rises up to be ahead of everybody, and is so kind of solemn-like. I +can't but see the leadings of Providence. What a minister's wife she'd +be, Miss Scudder!--why, all the ladies coming out of prayer-meeting were +speaking of it. You see, they want the Doctor to get married;--it seems +more comfortable-like to have ministers married; one feels more free to +open their exercises of mind; and as Miss Deacon Twitchel said to +me,--'If the Lord had made a woman o' purpose, as he did for Adam, he +wouldn't have made her a bit different from Mary Scudder.' Why, the +oldest of us would follow her lead,--'cause she goes before us without +knowing it." + +"I feel that the Lord has greatly blessed me in such a child," said Mrs. +Scudder, "and I feel disposed to wait the leadings of Providence." + +"Just exactly," said Miss Prissy, giving a shake to her silk; "and as +Miss Twitchel said, in this case every providence seems to p'int. I felt +dreadfully for her along six months back; but now I see how she's been +brought out, I begin to see that things are for the best, perhaps, after +all. I can't help feeling that Jim Marvyn is gone to heaven, poor +fellow! His father is a deacon,--and such a good man!--and Jim, though +he did make a great laugh wherever he went, and sometimes laughed where +he hadn't ought to, was a noble-hearted fellow. Now, to be sure, as the +Doctor says, 'amiable instincts a'n't true holiness'; but then they are +better than unamiable ones, like Simeon Brown's. I do think, if that man +is a Christian, he is a dreadful ugly one; he snapped me short up about +my change, when he settled with me last Tuesday; and if I hadn't felt +that it was a sinful rising, I should have told him I'd never put foot +in his house again; I'm glad, for my part, he's gone out of our church. +Now Jim Marvyn was like a prince to poor people; and I remember once his +mother told him to settle with me, and he gave me 'most double, and +wouldn't let me make change. 'Confound it all, Miss Prissy,' says he, 'I +wouldn't stitch as you do from morning to night for double that money.' +Now I know we can't do anything to recommend ourselves to the Lord, but +then I can't help feeling some sorts of folks must be by nature more +pleasing to Him than others. David was a man after God's own heart, and +he was a generous, whole-souled fellow, like Jim Marvyn, though he did +get carried away by his spirits sometimes and do wrong things; and so I +hope the Lord saw fit to make Jim one of the elect. We don't ever know +what God's grace has done for folks. I think a great many are converted +when we know nothing about it, as Miss Twitchel told poor old Miss +Tyrel, who was mourning about her son, a dreadful wild boy, who was +killed falling from mast-head; she says, that from the mast-head to the +deck was time enough for divine grace to do the work." + +"I have always had a trembling hope for poor James," said Mrs. +Scudder,--"not on account of any of his good deeds or amiable traits, +because election is without foresight of any good works,--but I felt he +was a child of the covenant, at least by the father's side, and I hope +the Lord has heard his prayer. These are dark providences; the world is +full of them; and all we can do is to have faith that the Lord will +bring infinite good out of finite evil, and make everything better than +if the evil had not happened. That's what our good Doctor is always +repeating; and we must try to rejoice, in view of the happiness of the +universe, without considering whether we or our friends are to be +included in it or not." + +"Well, dear me!" said Miss Prissy, "I hope, if that is necessary, it +will please the Lord to give it to me; for I don't seem to find any +powers in me to get up to it. But all's for the best, at any rate,--and +that's a comfort." + +Just at this moment Mary's clear voice at the door announced that tea +was on the table. + +"Coming, this very minute," said Miss Prissy, bustling up and pulling +off her spectacles. Then, running across the room, she shut the door +mysteriously, and turned to Mrs. Scudder with the air of an impending +secret. Miss Prissy was subject to sudden impulses of confidence, in +which she was so very cautious that not the thickest oak-plank door +seemed secure enough, and her voice dropped to its lowest key. The most +important and critical words were entirely omitted, or supplied by a +knowing wink and a slight stamp of the foot. + +In this mood she now approached Mrs. Scudder, and, holding up her hand +on the door-side to prevent consequences, if, after all she should be +betrayed into a loud word, she said, "I thought I'd just say, Miss +Scudder, that, in case Mary should ---- the Doctor,--in case, you know, +there should be a ---- in the house, you _must_ just contrive it so as +to give me a month's notice, so that I could give you a whole fortnight +to fix her up as such a good man's ---- ought to be. Now I know how +spiritually-minded our blessed Doctor is; but, bless you, Ma'am, he's +got eyes. I tell you, Miss Scudder, these men, the best of 'em, _feel_ +what's what, though they don't _know_ much. I saw the Doctor look at +Mary that night I dressed her for the wedding-party. I tell you he'd +like to have his wife look pretty well, and he'll get up some blessed +text or other about it, just as he did that night about being brought +unto the king in raiment of needle-work. That is an encouraging thought +to us sewing-women. + +"But this thing was spoken of after the meeting. Miss Twitchel and Miss +Jones were talking about it; and they all say that there would be the +best setting-out got for her that was ever seen in Newport, if it should +happen. Why, there's reason in it. She ought to have at least two real +good India silks that will stand alone,--and you'll see she'll have 'em, +too; you let me alone for that; and I was thinking, as I lay awake last +night, of a new way of making up, that you will say is just the sweetest +that ever you did see. And Miss Jones was saying that she hoped there +wouldn't anything happen without her knowing it, because her husband's +sister in Philadelphia has sent her a new receipt for cake, and she has +tried it and it came out beautifully, and she says she'll send some in." + +All the time that this stream was flowing, Mrs. Scudder stood with the +properly reserved air of a discreet matron, who leaves all such matters +to Providence, and is not supposed unduly to anticipate the future; and, +in reply, she warmly pressed Miss Prissy's hand, and remarked, that no +one could tell what a day might bring forth,--and other general +observations on the uncertainty of mortal prospects, which form a +becoming shield when people do not wish to say more exactly what they +are thinking of. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +ONCE AND NOW. + + +The Mourner lies in the solemn room + Where his Dead hath lately lain; +And in the drear, oppressive gloom, +Death-pallid with the dying moon, + There pass before his brain, +In blended visions manifold, +The present and the days of old. + +Fair falls the snow on her grave to-day, + Shrouding her sleep sublime; +But he sees in the sunny far-away +None among maidens so fair and gay + As she in her sweet spring-time: +Where the song and the sport and the revel be, +None among maidens so fair as she. + +He marks where the perfect crescent dips + Above the heaven of her eyes, +Her beamy hair in soft eclipse, +The red enchantment of her lips, + And all the grace that lies +Dreaming in her neck's pure curve, +With its regal lift and its swanlike swerve. + +In pictures which are forever joys, + She cometh to him once more: +Once, with her dainty foot a-poise, +She drives the bird with a merry noise + From her lifted battledoor, +And tosses back, with impatient air, +The ruffled glory of her hair;-- + +Then gayly draping a painted doll, + To please an eager child; +Or pacing athwart a stately hall; +Or kneeling at dewy evenfall, + When clouds are crimson-piled, +And all the hushed and scented air +Is tremulous with the voice of prayer;-- + +Or standing mute and rapture-bound + The while her sisters sing; +From voice and lute there floats around +A golden confluence of sound, + Spreading in fairy ring; +And with a beautiful grace and glow +Her head sways to the music's flow. + +One night of nights in lustrous June, + She walks with him alone; +Through silver glidings of the moon +The runnels purl a dreamy tune; + His arm is round her thrown: +But looks and sounds far lovelier +Thrill on his tranced soul from her. + +And then that rounded bliss, increased + To one consummate hour! +The marriage-robe, the stoled priest, +The kisses when the rite hath ceased, + And with her heart's rich dower +She standeth by his shielding side, +His wedded wife and his own bright bride! + +And then the sacred influence + That flushed her flower to prime! +Through Love's divine omnipotence +She ripened to a mother once, + But once, and for all time: +No higher heaven on him smiled +Than that young mother and her child. + +Then all the pleasant household scenes + Through all the latter years! +No murky shadow intervenes,-- +Her gentle aspect only leans + Through the soft mist of tears; +Her sweet, warm smile, her welkin glance,-- +There is no speech nor utterance. + +O angel form, O darling face, + Slow fading from the shore! +O brave, true heart, whose warmest place +Was his alone by Love's sweet grace, + Still, still, forevermore! +And now he lonely lieth, broken-hearted; +For all the grace and glory have departed. + +Snow-cold in sculptured calm she lies, + Apparelled saintly white; +On her sealed lips no sweet replies, +And the blue splendor of her eyes + Gone down in dreamless night; +All empery of Death expressed +In that inexorable rest! + +Now leave this fair and holy Thing + Alone with God's dear grace! +Her grave is but the entering +Beneath the shadow of His wing, + Her trusty hiding-place, +Till, in the grand, sweet Dawn, at last, +This tyranny be overpast. + + + + +A TRIP TO CUBA. + +CAN GRANDE'S DEPARTURE.--THE DOMINICA.--LOTTERY-TICKETS. + + +I have not told you how Can Grande took leave of the Isle of Rogues, as +one of our party christened the fair Queen of the Antilles. I could not +tell you how he loathed the goings on at Havana, how hateful he found +the Spaniards, and how villainous the American hotel-keepers. His +superlatives of censure were in such constant employment that they began +to have a threadbare sound before he left us; and as he has it in +prospective to run the gantlet of all the inn-keepers on the continent +of Europe, to say nothing of farther lands, where inn-keepers would be a +relief, there is no knowing what exhaustion his powers in this sort may +undergo before he reaches us again. He may break down into weak, +compliant good-nature, and never be able to abuse anybody again, as long +as he lives. In that case, his past life and his future, taken together, +will make a very respectable average. But the climate really did not +suit him, the company did not satisfy him, and there came a moment when +he said, "I can bear it no longer!" and we answered, "Go in peace!" + +It now becomes me to speak of Sobrina, who has long been on a temperance +footing, and who forgets even to blush when the former toddy is +mentioned, though she still shudders at the remembrance of sour-sop. She +is the business-man of the party; and while philosophy and highest +considerations occupy the others, with an occasional squabble over +virtue and the rights of man, she changes lodgings, hires carts, +transports baggage, and, knowing half-a-dozen words of Spanish, makes +herself clearly comprehensible to everybody. We have found a Spanish +steamer for Can Grande; but she rows thither in a boat and secures his +passage and state-room. The noontide sun is hot upon the waters, but her +zeal is hotter still. Now she has made a curious bargain with her +boatmen, by which they are to convey the whole party to the steamer on +the fourth day. + +"What did you tell them?" we asked. + +"I said, _tres noches_ (three nights) and _un dia_, (one day,) and then +took out my watch and showed them five o'clock on it, and pointed to the +boat and to myself. They understood, perfectly." + +And so, in truth, they did; for, going to the wharf on the day and at +the hour appointed, we found the boatmen in waiting, with eager faces. +But here a new difficulty presented itself;--the runner of our hotel, a +rascal German, whose Cuban life has sharpened his wits and blunted his +conscience, insisted that the hiring of boats for the lodgers was one of +his (many) perquisites, and that before his sovereign prerogative all +other agreements were null and void.--N.B. There was always something +experimentative about this man's wickedness. He felt that he did not +know how far men might be gulled, or the point where they would be +likely to resist. This was a fault of youth. With increasing years and +experience he will become bolder and more skilful, and bids fair, we +should say, to become one of the most dexterous operators known in his +peculiar line. On the present occasion, he did not heed the piteous +pleadings of the disappointed boatmen, nor Sobrina's explanations, nor +Can Grande's arguments. But when the whole five of us fixed upon him our +mild and scornful eyes, something within him gave way. He felt a little +bit of the moral pressure of Boston, and feebly broke down, saying, "You +better do as you like, then," and so the point was carried. + +A pleasant run brought us to the side of the steamer. It was dusk +already as we ascended her steep gangway, and from that to darkness +there is, at this season, but the interval of a breath. Dusk, too, were +our thoughts, at parting from Can Grande, the mighty, the vehement, the +great fighter. How were we to miss his deep music, here and at home! +With his assistance we had made a very respectable band; now we were to +be only a wandering drum and fife,--the fife particularly shrill, and +the drum particularly solemn. Well, we went below, and examined the +little den where Can Grande was to pass the other seven days of his +tropical voyaging. The berths were arranged the wrong way,--across, not +along, the vessel,--and we foresaw that his head would go up and his +feet down, and _vice versa_, with every movement of the steamer, and our +weak brains reeled at the bare thought of what he was to suffer. He, +good soul, meanwhile, was thinking of his supper, and wondering if he +could get tea, coffee, and chocolate, a toasted roll, and the touch of +cold ham which an invalid loves. And we beheld, and they were bringing +up the side of the vessel trays of delicious pastry, and festoons of +fowls, with more literal butcher's meat. And we said, "There will be no +famine on board. Make the most of your supper, Can Grande; for it will +be the last of earth to you, for some time to come." And now came +silence, and tears, and last embraces; we slipped down the gangway into +our little craft, and, looking up, saw, bending above us, between the +slouched hat and the silver beard, the eyes that we can never forget, +that seemed to drop back in the darkness with the solemnity of a last +farewell. We went home, and the drum hung himself gloomily on his peg, +and the little fife _shut up_ for the remainder of the evening. + +Has Mr. Dana described the Dominica, I wonder? Well, if he has, I cannot +help it. He never can have eaten so many ices there as I have, nor +passed so many patient hours amid the screeching, chattering, and +devouring, which make it most like a cage of strange birds, or the +monkey department in the Jardin des Plantes.--_Mem._ I always observed +that the monkeys just mentioned seemed far more mirthful than their +brethren in the London Zooelogical Gardens. They form themselves, so to +speak, on a livelier model, and feel themselves more at home with their +hosts. + +But the Dominica. You know, probably, that it is the great _cafe_ of +Havana. All the day long it is full of people of all nations, sipping +ices, chocolate, and so on; and all night long, also, up to the to me +very questionable hour when its patrons go home and its _garcons_ go to +bed. We often found it a welcome refuge at noon, when the _douche_ of +sunlight on one's _cervix_ bewilders the faculties, and confuses one's +principles of gravitation, toleration, etc., etc. You enter from the +Tophet of the street, and the intolerable glare is at once softened to a +sort of golden shadow. The floor is of stone; in the midst trickles a +tiny fountain with golden network; all other available space is crowded +with marble tables, square or round; and they, in turn, are scarcely +visible for the swarm of black-coats that gather round them. The smoke +of innumerable cigars gives a Rembrandtic tinge to the depths of the +picture, and the rows and groups of nodding Panama hats are like very +dull flower-beds. In the company, of course, the Spanish-Cuban element +largely predominates; yet here and there the sharper English breaks upon +the ear. + +"Yes, I went to that plantation; but they have only one thousand boxes +of sugar, and we want three thousand for our operation." + +A Yankee, you say. Yes, certainly; and turning, you see the tall, strong +Philadelphian from our hotel, who calls for everything by its right +name, and always says, "_Mas! mas!_" when the waiter helps him to ice. +Some one near us is speaking a fuller English, with a richer "_r_" and +deeper intonation. See there! that is our own jolly captain, Brownless +of ours, the King of the "Karnak"; and going up to the British lion, we +shake the noble beast heartily by the paw. + +The people about us are imbibing a variety of cooling liquids. Our turn +comes at last. The _garcon_ who says, "I speke Aingliss," brings us +each a delicious orange _granizada_, a sort of half-frozen water-ice, +familiar to Italy, but unknown in America. It is ice in the first +enthusiasm of freezing,--condensed, not hardened. Promoting its +liquefaction with the spoon, you enjoy it through the mediation of a +straw. The unskilful make strange noises and gurglings through this +_tenuis avena_; but to those who have not forgotten the accomplishment +of suction, as acquired at an early period of existence, the _modus in +quo_ is easy and agreeable. + +You will hardly weary of watching the groups that come and go and sit +and talk in this dreamy place. If you are a lady, every black eye +directs its full, tiresome stare at your face, no matter how plain that +face may be. But you have learned before this to consider those eyes as +so many black dots, so many marks of wonder with no sentence attached; +and so you coolly pursue your philosophizing in your corner, strong in +the support of a companion, who, though deeply humanitarian and +peaceful, would not hesitate to punch any number of Spanish heads that +should be necessary for the maintenance of your comfort and his dignity. + +The scene is occasionally varied by the appearance of a beggar-woman, +got up in great decency, and with a wonderful air of pinched and faded +gentility. She wears an old shawl upon her head, but it is as nicely +folded as an aristocratic mantilla; her feet are cased in the linen +slippers worn by the poorer classes, but there are no unsavory rags and +dirt about her. "That good walk of yours, friend," I thought, "does not +look like starvation." Yet, if over there were a moment when one's heart +should soften towards an imposing fellow-creature, it is when one is in +the midst of the orange _granizada_. The beggar circles slowly and +mournfully round all the marble tables in turn, holding out her hand to +each, as the plate is offered at a church collection. She is not +importunate; but, looking in each one's face, seems to divine whether he +will give or no. A Yankee, sitting with a Spaniard, offers her his +cigar. The Spaniard gravely pushes the cigar away, and gives her a +_medio_. + +More pertinacious is the seller of lottery-tickets, male or female, who +has more at stake, and must run the risk of your displeasure for the +chance of your custom. Even in your bed you are hardly safe from the +ticket-vender. You stand at your window, and he, waiting in the street, +perceives you, and with nods, winks, and showing of his wares endeavors +to establish a communication with you. Or you stop and wait somewhere in +your _volante_, and in the twinkling of an eye the wretch is at your +side to bear you company till you drive off again. At the Dominica he is +especially persevering, and stands and waits with as much zeal as if he +knew the saintly line of Milton. Like the beggar, however, he is +discriminative in the choice of his victims, and persecutes the stony +Yankee less than the oily Spaniard, whose inbred superstitions force him +to believe in luck. + +Very strange stories do they tell about the trade in +lottery-tickets,--strange, at least, to us, who consider them the folly +of follies. Here, as in Italy, the lotteries are under the care of the +State, and their administration is as careful and important as that of +any other branch of finance. They are a regular and even reputable mode +of investment. The wealthy commercial houses all own tickets, sometimes +keeping the same number for years, but more frequently changing after +each unsuccessful experiment. A French gentleman in Havana assured me +that his tickets had already cost him seven thousand dollars. "And now," +said he, "I cannot withdraw, for I cannot lose what I have already paid. +The number has not been up once in eight years; its turn must come soon. +If I were to sell my ticket, some one would be sure to draw the great +prize with it the week after." This, perhaps, is not very unlike the +calculations of business risks most in vogue in our great cities. A +single ticket costs an ounce (seventeen dollars); but you are constantly +offered fractions, to an eighth or a sixteenth. There are ticket-brokers +who accommodate the poorer classes with interests to the amount of ten +cents, and so on. Thus, for them, the lottery replaces the savings-bank, +with entire uncertainty of any return, and the demoralizing process of +expectation thrown into the bargain. The negroes invest a good deal of +money in this way, and we heard in Matanzas a curious anecdote on this +head. A number of negroes, putting their means together, had +commissioned a ticket-broker to purchase and hold for them a certain +ticket. After long waiting and paying up, news came to Matanzas that the +ticket had drawn the $100,000 prize. The owners of the negroes were in +despair at this intelligence. "Now my cook will buy himself," says one; +"my _calesero_ will be free," says another; and so on. The poor slaves +ran, of course, in great agitation, to get their money. But, lo! the +office was shut up. The rascal broker had absconded. He had never run +the risk of purchasing the ticket; but had coolly appropriated this and +similar investments to his own use, preferring the bird in the hand to +the whole aviary of possibilities. He was never heard of more; but +should he ever turn up anywhere, I commend him as the fittest subject +for Lynch-law on record. + +Well, as I have told you, all these golden chances wait for you at the +Dominica, and many Americans buy, and look very foolish when they +acknowledge it. The Nassauese all bought largely during their short +stay; and even their little children held up with exultation their +fragments of tickets, all good for something, and bad for something, +too. + +If you visit the Dominica in the evening, you find the same crowd, only +with a sprinkling of women, oftenest of your own country, in audacious +bonnets, and with voices and laughter which bring the black eyes upon +them for a time. If it be Sunday evening, you will see here and there +groups of ladies in full ball-dress, fresh from the Paseo, the _volante_ +waiting for them outside. All is then at its gayest and busiest; but +your favorite waiter, with disappointment in his eyes, will tell you +that there is "_no mas_" of your favorite _granizada_, and will persuade +you to take, I know not what nauseous substitute in its place; for all +ices are not good at the Dominica, and some are (excuse the word) nasty. +People sit and sip, prolonging their pleasures with dilatory spoon and +indefatigable tongue. Group follows group; but the Spaniards are what I +should call heavy sitters, and tarry long over their ice or chocolate. +The waiter invariably brings to every table a chafing-dish with a +burning coal, which will light a cigar long after its outer glow has +subsided into ashy white. Some humans retain this kindling +power;--_vide_ Ninon and the ancient Goethe;--it is the heart of fire, +not the flame of beauty, that does it. When one goes home, tired, at ten +or eleven, the company shows no sign of thinning, nor does one imagine +how the ground is ever cleared, so as to allow an interval of sleep +between the last ice at night and the first coffee in the morning. It is +the universal _siesta_ which makes the Cubans so bright and fresh in the +evening. With all this, their habits are sober, and the evening +refreshment always light. No suppers are eaten here; and it is even held +dangerous to take fruit as late as eight o'clock, P.M. + +The Dominica has still another aspect to you, when you go there in the +character of a citizen and head of family to order West India sweetmeats +for home-consumption. You utter the magic word _dulces_, and are shown +with respect into the establishment across the way, where a neat +steam-engine is in full operation, tended by blacks and whites, stripped +above the waist, and with no superfluous clothing below it. Here they +grind the chocolate, and make the famous preserves, of which a list is +shown you, with prices affixed. As you will probably lose some minutes +in perplexity as to which are best for you to order, let me tell you +that the guava jelly and marmalade are first among them, and there is no +second. You may throw in a little pine-apple, mamey, lime, and +cocoa-plum; but the guava is the thing, and, in case of a long run on +the tea-table, will give the most effectual support. The limes used to +be famous in our youth; but in these days they make them hard and tough. +The marmalade of bitter oranges is one of the most useful of Southern +preserves; but I do not remember it on the list of the Dominica. Having +given your order, let me further advise you to remain, if practicable, +and see it fulfilled; as you will find, otherwise, divers trifling +discrepancies between the bill and the goods as delivered, which, though +of course purely accidental, will all be, somehow, to the Dominica's +advantage, and not to yours. If you are in moderate circumstances, order +eight or ten dollars' worth; if affluent, twenty or thirty dollars' +worth; if rash and extravagant, you may rise even to sixty dollars; but +you will find in such an outlay food for repentance. One word in your +ear: do not buy the syrups, for they are made with very bad sugar, and +have no savor of the fruits they represent. + +And this is all I can tell about the Dominica, which I recommend to all +of you for refreshment and amusement. We have nothing like it in New +York or Boston,--our _salons_ of the same description having in them +much more to eat and much less to see. As I look back upon it, the place +assumes a deeply Moorish aspect. I see the fountain, the golden light, +the dark faces, and intense black eyes, a little softened by the +comforting distance. Oh! to sit there for one hour, and help the +garcon's bad English, and be pestered by the beggar, and tormented by +the ticket-vender, and support the battery of the wondering looks, which +make it sin for you, a woman, to be abroad by day! Is there any +purgatory which does not grow lovely as you remember it? Would not a man +be hanged twice, if he could? + +[To be continued.] + + + + +ZELMA'S VOW. + +[Continued from the July Number.] + +PART SECOND. + +HOW IT WAS KEPT. + + +It was late when Zelma Burleigh returned to the Grange. As she stole +softly into the hall, she startled an Italian greyhound, which was lying +asleep on a mat near the door. As he sprang up, the little silver bells +on his collar tinkled out his master's secret;--Sir Harry Willerton was +still in the drawing-room with Bessie. + +As Zelma passed up to her chamber, she said to herself bitterly,--"Thus +openly and fearlessly can the rich and well-born woo and be wooed, while +such as we must steal away to happiness as to crime, and plight our vows +under the chill and shadow of night!" But the next moment she felt that +there was about her love a piquant sense of peril and lawlessness, a +wild flavor infinitely more to her taste than would be any prudent, +commendable affection grown in drawing-rooms, nourished by +conventionalism, and propped by social fitness; and remembering the +manly beauty and brilliant parts of her lover, she felt that she would +not exchange him for the proudest noble of the realm. + +After a time Bessie came stealing up from the drawing-room, and lay +down by her cousin's side, softly, for fear of waking her; and all night +long Bessie's secret curled about her smiling mouth, and quivered +through the lids of her shut eyes, and overran her red lips in murmurs +of happy dreams; but Zelma's secret burned like slow fire in her deepest +heart. Bessie dreamed of merry games and quiet rambles and country +_fetes_ with the gay Sir Harry; but Zelma, when at last she slept, +dreamed of wandering with her adventurous lover from province to +province,--then of playing Juliet to his Romeo before a vast +metropolitan audience. + +Days went on, and Bessie's pure, transparent nature, a lily-bud of +sweetest womanhood, seemed unconsciously revealing itself, leaf by leaf, +to all the world, and blooming out its beautiful innermost life; but +Zelma's secret still smouldered in her shut heart, never by any chance +flaming up to her lips in words. Her month assumed a look of rigid +resolution, almost of desperation; and her eyes shone with a hard, +diamond-like brilliancy, fitful, but never soft or tearful. Her manner +grew more and more moody and constrained, till even her matter-of-fact +uncle and aunt, good easy souls, and her absorbed cousin, became curious +and anxious. The little elfish black pony was in more frequent request +than ever; for his mistress now went out at any hour that suited her +whim, in any weather, chose the loneliest by-ways, and rode furiously. +Often, at evening, she ascended a dark gorge of the western hills and +plunged down on the other side, as though in hot pursuit of the setting +sun; and at length there came a report from the gossiping post-mistress +of a little village over there, that she came for letters, which she +duly received, addressed in a dashing, manly hand. This story, coming to +the ears of Roger Burleigh, quickened his dull suspicions that +"something was wrong with that poor girl"; and just as he was getting +positive and peremptory, and Bessie perplexed and alarmed, Zelma +disappeared! + +For several days there were anxious inquiries and vain searches in every +direction,--storming, weeping, and sleeplessness in the Squire's usually +happy household; and then came a letter, whose Scottish post-mark +revealed much of the mystery. It was from Zelma, telling that she had +left the Grange forever, and become the wife of "Mr. Bury, the strolling +player"; and saying that she had taken this step of her own free will, +knowing it to be a fatal, unpardonable sin against caste, and that it +would set a great gulf between her and her respectable relatives. Yet, +she asked, had not a gulf of _feeling_, as deep and wide, ever separated +their hearts from the gypsy's daughter? and was it not better and more +honest to break the weak social ties of protection and dependence which +had stretched like wild vines across the chasm to hide it from the +world? She then bade them all an abrupt and final farewell It was a +letter brief, cold, and curt, almost to insolence; but beneath her new +name, which was dashed off with somewhat of a dramatic flourish, there +appeared hurriedly scrawled in pencil a woman's postscript, containing +the real soul of the letter, a passionate burst of feeling, a bitter cry +of long-repressed, sorrowful tenderness. It implored forgiveness for any +pain she might ever have given them, for any disgrace she might ever +bring upon them,--it thanked and blessed them for past kindness, and +humbly prayed for them the choicest gifts and the most loving protection +of Heaven. This postscript was signed "Zelle,"--the orphan's childish +and pet name at the Grange, which she now put off with the peace and +purity of maidenhood and domestic life. + +When it was known how Zelma Burleigh had fled, and with whom, the +neighboring gentry were duly shocked and scandalized. The village +gossips declared that they had always foreseen some such fate for "that +strange girl," and sagely prophesied that the master of Willerton Hall +would abandon all thought of an alliance with a family whose escutcheon +had suffered so severely. But they counted on the baronet, not on the +man,--and so, for once, were mistaken. + +As for honest Roger Burleigh, he was beside himself with amazement and +indignation at the folly and ingratitude of his niece and the +measureless presumption of "that infernal puppy of a play-actor," as he +denominated Zelma's clever husband. + +As he was one day talking over the sad affair with his friend Sir Harry, +who best succeeded in soothing him down, he inveighed against all actors +and actresses in the strongest terms of aversion and contempt, giving +free expression to the violent provincial prejudice of his time against +players of all degrees. + +"But, my dear Sir," interrupted the young Baronet, "your niece has not +become an actress,--only the wife of a promising actor." + +"No,--but she will be one yet. She's stage-struck now, more than +anything else; and mark my words,--that villain will have her on the +boards before the year's end, and live by her ranting. Why, you see, Sir +Harry, strolling is in the blood, and must out, I suppose. The girl, as +you may have heard, is half gypsy. My brother, Captain Burleigh, was a +sad scamp, and actually married a Spanish Zincala! He was drunk at the +time, we have the consolation to believe, or he could never have so far +belied his good old English blood, dissipated dog as he was. To be sure, +she saved his life once, and really was a beautiful, devoted creature, +by all accounts; and if Zelma had done no worse than she,--run away with +any poor devil, provided only he were a gentleman,--or if she had gone +off vagabondizing with one of her mother's people, it would not have +been so infamous an affair as it is; she might still have been accounted +an honest woman;--but, my God, Sir Harry, a strolling player!" + +Mrs. Burleigh was but a dutiful echo of her husband's prejudices, and +gave up her hapless niece as lost beyond redemption; but Bessie, though +she grieved more than either, suffered from no sense of humiliation, and +allowed no virtuous anger, no injurious doubts, to enter her blessed +little heart. Yet she missed her lost companion, her strong friend, and, +still vine-like in her instincts, turned wholly to the new support,--to +one who submitted himself gladly to the sweet inthralment, and felt all +the grander for the luscious weight and tendril-like clasp. And so Love +came to pretty Bessie's heart "with healing in his wings." + + * * * * * + +Unspeakable was the dismay of Mr. Bury at finding that a very modest +amount of personal property was all that his runaway wife could hope to +receive from her relatives,--that she was utterly portionless, her +father having more than exhausted the patrimony of a younger son. He had +supposed, from Zelma's apparently honorable position in the household of +her uncle, that she was, if not an heiress, at least respectably +dowered. Had he been better informed, it is doubtful whether, +improvident and enamored as he was, he would have ruralized and +practicalized Romeo in the lane of Burleigh Grange. Zelma herself, too +unworldly to suspect that self-interest had anything to do with her +conquest, never alluded to her lack of dowry till it was too late. Then +both manly shame and manly passion (for the actor loved her in his way, +which was by no means her way, or the way of any large, loyal nature) +restrained all unbecoming expression of chagrin and disappointment,-- +which yet sunk into his heart, and prepared the not uncongenial coil for +a goodly crop of suspicion, jealousy, alienation, aversion, and all +manner of domestic infelicities. + +We cannot follow Zelma step by step, in her precarious and wandering +life, for the six months succeeding her marriage. It was a life not +altogether distasteful to her. She was not enough of a fine lady to be +dismayed or humiliated by its straits and shifts of poverty, by its +isolation and ostracism; while there was something in its alternations +of want and profusion, in its piquant contrasts of real and mimic life, +in its excitement, action, and change, which had a peculiar charm for +her wild and restless spirit. But from many of the associations of the +stage, from nearly all actors and actresses, and from all green-room +loungers, she instinctively recoiled, and held herself haughtily aloof +from the motley little world behind the scenes,--apparently by no +effort, but as sphered apart by the atmosphere of refinement and +superiority which enveloped her. Yet she almost constantly accompanied +her husband to rehearsal and play, where, for a time, her presence was +grateful both to the pride and a more amiable passion of her mercurial +lord. But the sight of that shy, shadowy figure haunting the wings, of +those keen, critical eyes ever following the business of the stage, at +last grew irksome to him, and he would fain have persuaded her to remain +quietly at their lodgings, whilst he was attending to his professional +duties. But no, she would go with him,--not for pleasure, or even +affection, but, as she always avowed, for artistic purposes. That she +had cherished, ever since her marriage, the plan of adopting her +husband's profession, she had never concealed from him. He usually +laughed, in his gay, supercilious way, when she spoke of this purpose, +or lightly patted her grand head and declared her to be a wilful, +unpractical enthusiast,--too much a child of Nature to attempt an art of +any kind,--born to _live_ and _be_ poetry, not to declaim it,--to +inspire genius, not to embody it,--a Muse, not a Sibyl. + +Once, when she was more than usually earnest in pleading for her +plan,--not merely on the strength of her own deep, prophetic conviction +of her fitness for a dramatic career, but on the ground of an urgent and +bitter necessity for exertion on her part, to ward off actual +destitution and suffering,--he exclaimed, somewhat impatiently,--"Why, +Zelma, it is an impossibility, almost an absurdity, you urge! You could +never make an actress. You are too hopelessly natural, erratic, and +impulsive. You would follow no teaching implicitly, but, when you saw +fit, would trample on conventionalities and venerable stage-traditions. +You would set up the standard of revolt against the ancient canons of +Art, and flout it in the faces of the critics, and--_fail_,--ay, fail, +in spite of your great, staring eyes, the tragic weight of your brows, +and the fiery swell of your nostril." + +"I should certainly tread my own ways on the boards, as elsewhere," +replied Zelma, quietly,--"move and act from the central force, the +instinct and inspiration of Nature,--letting the passion of my part work +itself out in its own gestures, postures, looks, and tones,--falling +short of, or going beyond, mere stage-traditions. With all due deference +for authorities, this would be my art, as it has been the art of all +truly great actors. I shall certainly not adopt my husband's profession +without his consent,--but I shall never cease importuning him for that +consent." + +Lawrence "laughed a laugh of merry scorn," and left her to her solitary +studies and the patient nursing of her purpose. + +It was finally, for Zelma's sake, through the unsolicited influence of +Sir Harry Willerton, that "Mr. Lawrence Bury, Tragedian," attained to a +high point in a provincial actor's ambition,--a London engagement. + +After a disheartening period of waiting and idleness, during which he +and his wife made actual face-to-face acquaintance with want, and both +came near playing their parts in the high-tragedy of starvation in a +garret, he made his first appearance before the audience of Covent +Garden, in the part of Mercutio. He was young, shapely, handsome, and +clever,--full of flash and dash, and, above all, _new_. He had chosen +well his part,--Mercutio,--that graceful frolic of fancy, which less +requires sustained intellectual power than the exaltation of animal +spirits,--that brief sunburst of life, that brilliant bubble of +character, which reflects, for a moment, a world of beauty and sparkle, +and dies in a flash of wit, yet leaves on the mind a want, a tender +regret, which follow one through all the storm and woe of the tragedy. + +So it was little wonder, perhaps, that he achieved a decided success, +though incomparably greater artists had failed where he triumphed, and +that, in spite of the doubtful looks and faint praise of the critics, he +became at once a public favorite,--the fashion, the rage. Ladies of the +highest _ton_ condescended to admire and applaud, and hailed as a +benefactor the creator of a new sensation. + +Very soon the young actor's aspiring soul rose above all secondary +parts, dropped Mercutio and Horatio for Romeo and Hamlet, and had not +the sense to see that he was getting utterly out of his element, dashing +with silken sails into the tempest of tragedy, soaring on Icarian wings +over its profoundest deeps and into the height and heat of its intensest +passion. + +Yet with the young, the unthinking, the eager, the curious, it was then +as it is now and ever shall be,--confidence easily passed for genius, +and presumption for power. Tributes of admiration and envy poured in +upon him,--anonymous missives, tender and daring, odorous with the +atmosphere of luxurious boudoirs, and coarse scrawls, scented with +orange-peel and lamp-smoke, and seeming to hiss with the sibilant +whisper of green-room spite; and the young actor, valuing alike the +sentiments, kindly or malign, which ministered to his egoism, +intoxicated with the first foamy draught of fame, grew careless, +freakish, and arrogant, as all suddenly adopted pets of the public are +likely to do. + +At length Mr. Bury played before Royalty, and Royalty was heard to say +to Nobility in attendance,--"What!--Who is he? Where did he come from? +How old is he? Not quite equal to Garrick yet, but clever,--eh, my +Lord?" + +This gracious royal criticism, being duly reported and printed, removed +the last let to aristocratic favor; fast young bloods of the highest +nobility did not acorn to shake off their perfumes and air their profane +vocabulary in the green-room, offering snuff and the incense of flattery +together to the Tamerlane, the Romeo, or the Lord Hamlet of the night. + +Happily, with the actor's fame rose his salary; and as both rose, the +actor and his wife descended from their lofty attic-room--into whose one +window the stars looked with, it seemed to Zelma, a startling +nearness--to respectable lodgings on the second floor. + +It was during this first London season that the manager of Covent +Garden, himself an actor, remarked the rare capabilities of Zelma's +face, voice, and figure for the stage, and in a matter-of-fact business +way spoke of them to her husband. The leading actor looked annoyed, and +sought to change the subject of conversation; but as the wife's dreamy +eyes flashed with sudden splendor, revealing the true dramatic fire, the +manager returned upon him with his artistic convictions and practical +arguments, and at length wrung from him most reluctant consent that +Zelma, after the necessary study, should make a trial of her powers. + +Though well over the first summer-warmth of his romantic passion, +Lawrence Bury had not yet grown so utterly cold toward his beautiful +wife that he could see that trial approach without some slight +sympathetic dread; but his miserable egoism forbade him to wish her +success; in his secret heart he even hoped that an utter, irretrievable +failure would wither at once and forever her pretty artistic +aspirations. + +Zelma chose for her _debut_ the part of Zara in "The Mourning +Bride,"--not out of any love for the character, which was too stormy, +vicious, and revengeful to engage her sympathies,--but because it was +rapid, vehement, sharply defined, and, if realized at all, she said, +would put her, by its very fierceness and wickedness, too far out of +herself for failure,--sweep her through the play like a whirlwind, and +give her no time to droop. It had for her heart, moreover, a peculiar +charm of association, as her first play,--as that in which she had first +beheld the hero of her dreams, "the god of her idolatry," before whom +she yet bowed, but as with eyes cast down or veiled, not in reverence, +but from a chill, unavowed fear of beholding the very common clay of +which he was fashioned. + +The awful night of the _debut_ arrived, as doomsday will come at last; +and after having been elaborately arrayed for her part by a gossiping +tire-woman, who _would_ chatter incessantly, relating, for the +encouragement of the _debutante_, tale after tale of stage-fright, +swoons, and failure,--after having been plumed, powdered, and most +reluctantly rouged, the rose of nineteen summers having suddenly paled +on her cheek, Zelma was silently conducted from her dressing-room by her +husband, who, as Osmyn, took his stand with her, the guards, and +attendants at the left wing, awaiting the summons to the presence of +King Manuel. As they were listening to the last tender bleating of +Almeria, the same pretty actress whom Zelma had seen as Zara at Arden, +and the gruff responses of her sire, an eager whisper ran through the +group;--the King and Queen had entered the royal box! This was quite +unexpected, and Zelma was aghast. Involuntarily, she stretched out her +hand and grasped that of her husband;--as she did so, the rattle of the +chains on her wrist betrayed her. The attendants looked round and +smiled;--Lawrence frowned and turned away, with a boy's pettishness. He +had been more than usually moody that day; but Zelma had believed him +troubled for her sake, and even now interpreted his unkindness as +nervous anxiety. + +The next moment, everything, even he, was forgotten; for she stood, she +hardly knew how, upon the stage, receiving and mechanically +acknowledging a great burst of generous British applause. + +It was a greeting less complaisant and patronizing than is usually given +to _debutantes_. Zelma's youthful charms, heightened by her sumptuous +dress, took her audience by surprise, and, while voice and action +delayed, made for her friends and favor, and bribed judgment with +beauty. + +King Manuel receives his captives with a courteous speech,--only a few +lines; but, during their reading, through what a lifetime of fear, of +pain, of unimaginable horrors passed Zelma! Stage-fright, that waking +nightmare of _debutantes_, clutched her at once, petrifying, while it +tortured her. The house seemed to surge around her, the stage to rock +under her feet. She fancied she heard low, elfish laughter behind the +scenes, and already the hiss of the critics seemed to sing in her +reeling brain. A thousand eyes pierced her through and through,--seemed +to see how the frightened blood had shrunk away from its mask of rouge +and hidden in her heart,--how that poor childish heart fluttered and +palpitated,--how near the hot tears were to the glazed eyeballs,--how +fast the black, obliterating shadows were creeping over the records of +memory,--how the first instinct of fear, a blind impulse to flight, was +maddening her. + +She raised her eyes to the royal box, where sat a stout, middle-aged +man, with a dull, good-humored face, a star and ribbon on his breast, +and by his side a woman, ample and motherly, with an ugly tuft of +feathers on her head, and a diamond tiara, which lit up her heavy Dutch +features like a torch. The King, the Queen! + +Just at this moment, his Majesty was in gracious converse with a lady on +his right, a foreign princess, of an ancient, unpronounceable title,--a +thin, colorless head and form, overloaded with immemorial +family-jewels,--a mere frame of a woman, to hang brilliants upon. She +was one shine and shiver of diamonds, from head to foot;--she palpitated +light, like a glow-worm. Her Majesty, meanwhile, was regaling herself +from a jewelled snuff-box, and talking affably over her shoulder to her +favorite mistress of the robes, the fearful Schwellenberg. + +But Zelma, looking through the transfiguring atmosphere of loyalty, +beheld the royal group encompassed by all the ideal splendor and +sacredness of majesty;--over their very commonplace heads towered the +airy crowns of a hundred regal ancestors, piled round on round, and +glimmering away into the clouds. + +Ere she turned her fascinated eyes away from the august sight, her cue +was given. She started, and struggled to speak, but her lips clung +together. There was a dull roar and whirl in her brain, as of a vortex +of waters. In piteous appealing she looked into the face of her husband, +and caught on his lips a strange, faint smile of mingled pity and +exultation. It stung her like a lash! Instantly she was herself, or +rather Zara, a captive, but every inch a queen, and delivered herself +calmly and proudly, though with a little tremble of her past agitation +in her voice,--a thrill of womanly feeling, which felt its way at once +to the hearts of her audience. + +The first act, however, afforded her so little scope for acting, that +she left the stage unassured of her own success. There was doubt before +and behind the curtain. The critics had given no certain sign,--the +general applause might have been merely an involuntary tribute to youth +and beauty. Actors and actresses hung back,--even the friendly manager +was guarded in his congratulations. But in the second act the +_debutante_ put an end to this dubious state of things,--at least, so +far as her audience was concerned. "The Captive Queen" took captive all, +save that stern row of critics,--the indomitable, the incorruptible. +Their awful judgment still hung suspended over her head. + +In a scene with Osmyn Zelma first revealed her tragic power. In her +fitful tenderness, in the passionate reproaches which she stormed upon +him, in her entreaties and imprecations, she was the poet's ideal, and +more. She dashed into the crude and sketchy character bold strokes of +Nature and illuminative gleams of genius, all her own. + +Mr. Bury, as Osmyn, was cold and unsympathetic, avoided the eye of Zara, +and was even more tender than was "set down in the book" to Almeria. + +"How well he acts his part!" said to herself the generous Zelma. + +"How anxiety for his wife dashes his spirit!" said the charitable +audience. + +At the close of this act the manager grasped Zelma's hand, and spoke of +her success as certain. She thanked him with an absent air, and gazed +about her wistfully. Surely her husband should have been the first to +give her joy. But he did not come forward. She shrank away to her +dressing-room, and waited for him vainly till she knew he was on the +stage, where she next met him in the great prison-scene. + +In this scene, some bitterness of feeling--the first sharp pangs of +jealousy--gave, unconsciously to herself, a terrible vitality and +reality to her acting. She filled the stage with the electrical +atmosphere of her genius. Waxen Almeria, who was to have gone out as she +entered, received a shock of it, and stood for a moment transfixed. Even +Osmyn kindled out of his stony coldness, and gazed with awe and +irrepressible admiration at this new revelation of that strange, +profound creature he had called "wife." She, so late a shy woodland +nymph, stealing to his embrace,--now an angered goddess, blazing before +him, calling down upon him the lightnings of Olympus, with all the world +to see him shrink and shrivel into nothingness! And all this power and +passion, overtopping his utmost reach of art, outsoaring his wildest +aspirations, he had wooed, fondled, and protected! At first he was +overwhelmed with amazement; he could hardly have been more so, had a +volcano broken out through his hearth-stone; but soon, under the fierce +storm of Zara's taunts and reproaches, a sullen rage took possession of +him. He could not separate the actress from the wife,--and the wife +seemed in open, disloyal revolt. Every burst of applause from the +audience was an insult to him; and he felt a mad desire to oppose, to +defy them all, to assert a master's right over that frenzied woman, to +grasp her by the arm and drag her from the stage before their eyes! + +This scene closes with a memorable speech:-- + + "Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent + The base injustice thou hast done my love! + Ay, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress, + And all the evils thou so long hast mourned, + Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned!" + +Zelma gave these lines as no pre-Siddonian actress had ever given +them,--with a certain _sublimity_ of rage, the ire of an immortal,--and +swept off the scene before a wild tumult of applause, led by the +vanquished critics. It followed her, surge on surge, to her +dressing-room, whither she hastily retreated through a crowd of players +and green-room _habitues_. + +That sudden tempest shook even the royal box. The King, who a short time +before had been observed to nod, not shaking his "ambrosial locks" in +Jove-like approval, but somnolently, started up, exclaiming, "What! +what! what's that?"--and the Queen--took snuff. + +In her dressing-room Zelma waited for her husband. "Surely he will come +now," she said. + +She had already put off the tragedy-queen; she was again the loving +wife, yearning for one proud smile, one tender word, one straining +embrace. The tempest outside the curtain still rolled in upon her, as +she sat alone, drooping and sad, a spent thunder-cloud. The sound +brought her no sense of triumph; she only looked around her drearily, +like a frightened child, and called, "Lawrence!" + +Instead of him came the manager. She must go before the curtain; the +audience would not be denied. + +Lawrence led her out,--holding her hot, trembling fingers in his cold, +nerveless hand, a moody frown on his brow, and his lips writhing with a +forced smile. + +As Zelma bent and smiled in modest acknowledgment of renewed applause, +led by royalty itself,--her aspirations so speedily fulfilled, her +genius so early crowned,--even at that supreme moment, the grief of the +woman would have outweighed the triumph of the artist, and saddened all +those plaudits into knell-like sounds, could she have known that the +miserable fiends of envy and jealousy had grasped her husband's heart +and torn it out of her possession forever. + +In the death-scene, where the full tide of womanly feeling, which has +been driven out of Zara's heart by the volcanic shocks of fierce +passions, comes pouring back with whelming force, Zelma lost none of her +power, but won new laurels, bedewed with tears from "eyes unused to +weep." + +Zara dies by her own hand, clinging to the headless body of King Manuel, +believing it to be Osmyn's. Zelma gave the concluding lines of her part +brokenly, in a tone of almost childlike lamenting, with piteous murmurs +and penitent caresses:-- + + "Cold, cold!--my veins are icicles and frost! + Cover us close, or I shall chill his breast, + And fright him from my arms!--See! see! he slides + Still farther from me! Look! he hides his face! + I cannot feel it!--quite beyond my reach!--Ah, + now he's gone, and all is dark!" + +With that last desolate moan of a proud and stormy spirit, sobbing +itself into the death-quiet, a visible shudder crept through the house. +Even the King threw himself back in his royal chair with an +uncomfortable sort of "ahem!" as though choking with an emotion of +common humanity; and the Queen--forgot to take snuff. + + * * * * * + +From the night of her triumphant _debut_, the life of the actress ran in +the full sunlight of public favor; but the life of the woman crept away +into the shadow,--not of that quiet and repose so grateful to the true +artist, but of domestic discomfort and jealous estrangement. + +Nobly self-forgetful always, Zelma, in the first hour of success, +feeling, in spite of herself, the pettiness and egoism of her husband's +nature, with a sense of humiliation in which it seemed her very soul +blushed, offered to renounce forever the career on which she had just +entered. Mr. Bury, however, angrily refused to accept the sacrifice, +though she pressed it upon him, at last, as a "peace-offering," on her +knees, and weeping like a penitent. "It is too late," he said, bitterly. +"The deed is done. You are mine no longer,--you belong to the public;--I +wish you joy of your fickle master." + +From that time Zelma went her own ways, calm and self-reliant outwardly, +but inwardly tortured with a host of womanly griefs and regrets, a +helpless sense of wrong and desolation. She flew to her beautiful art +for consolation, flinging herself, with a sort of desperate abandonment, +out of her own life of monotonous misery into the varied sorrows of the +characters she personated. For her the cup of fame was not mantling with +the wine of delight which reddens the lips and "maketh glad the heart." +The costly pearl she had dissolved in it had not sweetened the draught; +but it was intoxicating, and she drank it with feverish avidity. + +But for Lawrence Bury, his powers flagged and failed in the unnatural +rivalship; his acting grew more and more cold and mechanical. He became +more than ever subject to moods and caprices, and rapidly lost favor +with the public, till at last he was regarded only as the husband of the +popular actress,--then, merely tolerated for her sake. He fell, or +rather flung himself, into a life of reckless dissipation and +profligacy, and sunk so low that he scrupled not to accept from his +wife, and squander on base pleasures, money won by the genius for which +he hated her. Many were the nights when Zelma returned from the +playhouse to her cheerless lodgings, exhausted, dispirited, and alone, +to walk her chamber till the morning, wrestling with real terrors and +sorrows, the homely distresses of the heart, hard, absolute, +unrelieved,--to which the tragic agonies she had been representing +seemed but child's play. + +At length, finding himself at the lowest ebb of theatrical favor, and +hating horribly the scene of his humiliating defeat, Mr. Bury resolved +to return to his old strolling life in the provinces. Making at the same +moment the first announcement of his going and his hurried adieux to +Zelma, who heard his last cold words in dumb dismay, with little show of +emotion, but with heavy grief and dread presentiments at her heart, he +departed. He was accompanied by the fair actress with whom he played +first parts at Arden,--but now, green-room gossip said, not in a merely +professional association. This story was brought to Zelma; but her +bitter cup was full without it. With a noble blindness, the fanaticism +of wifely faith, she rejected it utterly. "He is weak, misguided, mad," +she said, "but not so basely false as that. He must run his wild, +wretched course awhile longer,--it seems necessary for him; but he will +return at last,--surely he will,--sorrowful, repentant, 'in his right +mind,' himself and mine once more. He cannot weary out God's patience +and my love." + +After the first shock of her desertion was past, Zelma was conscious of +a sense of relief from a weight of daily recurring care and humiliation, +the torture of an unloving presence, chill and ungenial as arctic +sunlight. Even in the cold blank of his absence there was something +grateful to her bruised heart, like the balm of darkness to suffering +eyes. Her art was now all in all to her,--the strong-winged passion, +which lifted her out of herself and her sorrows. She was studying Juliet +for the first time. She had been playing for more than a year before she +could be prevailed upon to attempt a Shakspearian character, restrained +by a profound modesty from exercising her crude powers upon one of those +grand creations. + +When, at length, she made choice of Juliet, what study was hers!--how +reverent! how loving! how glad!--the perfect service of the spirit! She +shut out the world of London from her sight, from her thoughts, till it +seemed lost in one of its own fogs. The air, the sky, the passion, the +poetry of Italy were above and around her. Again she revelled in that +wondrous garden of love and poesy, with a background of graves, +solemnizing joy. Now her fancy flitted, on swift, unresting wing, from +beauty to beauty,--now settled, bee-like, on some rich, half-hidden +thought, and hung upon it, sucking out its most sweet and secret heart +of meaning. She steeped her soul in the delicious romance, the summer +warmth, the moonlight, the sighs and tears of the play. She went from +the closet to the stage, not brain-weary and pale with thought, but +fresh, tender, and virginal,--not like one who had committed the _part_ +of Juliet, but one whom Juliet possessed in every part. She seemed to +bear about her an atmosphere of poetry and love, the subtile spirit of +that marvellous play. There was no air of study, not the faintest taint +of the midnight oil;--like a gatherer of roses from some garden of +Cashmere, or a peasant-girl from the vintage, she brought only odors +from her toil,--the sweets of the fancy, a flavor of the passion she had +made her own. + +On her first night in this play, Zelma was startled by recognizing among +the audience the once familiar faces of her uncle Roger, her cousin +Bessie, and Sir Harry Willerton. They had all come up to London to draw +up the papers and purchase the _trousseau_ for the wedding, which would +have taken place a year sooner, but for the death of Bessie's mother. + +Squire Burleigh had been entrapped by his daughter and her lover into +coming to the play,--he being in utter ignorance as to whom he was to +see in the part of Juliet. When he recognized his niece in the ball-room +scene, he was shocked, and even angry. He started up, impetuously, to +leave the house; and it was only by the united entreaties of Bessie and +Sir Harry that he was persuaded to stay. As the play went on, however, +his sympathies became enlisted, in spite of his prejudices. Gradually +his heart melted toward the fair offender, and irrepressible tears of +admiration and pity welled up to his kindly blue eyes. He watched the +progress of the drama with an almost breathless interest while she was +before him, but grew listless and indifferent whenever she left the +stage. The passion of Romeo, the philosophy of the Friar, the quaint +garrulousness of the Nurse, the trenchant wit of Mercutio were alike +without charm for him. + +But though thus lost in the fortunes and sorrows of the heroine of the +play, the dramatic illusion was far from complete for him. It was not +Juliet,--it was Zelma, the wild, misguided, lost, but still beloved +child of his poor brother; and in his bewildered brain her sad story was +strangely complicated with that of the hapless girl of Verona. When she +swallowed the sleeping-draught, he shrank and shuddered at the horrible +pictures conjured up by her frenzied fancy; and in the last woful scene, +he forgot himself, the play, the audience, everything but her, the +forlorn gypsy child, the shy and lonely little girl whom long years ago +he had taken on his knee, and smoothed down her tangled black hair, as +he might have smoothed the plumage of an eaglet, struggling and +palpitating under his hand, and glancing up sideways, with fierce and +frightened eyes,--and now, when he saw her about to plunge the cruel +blade into her breast, he leaped to his feet and electrified the house +by calling out, in a tone of agonized entreaty,--"Don't, Zelle! for +God's sake, don't! Leave this, and come home with us,--home to the +Grange!" + +It was a great proof of Mrs. Bury's presence of mind and command over +her emotions, that she was not visibly discomposed by this strange and +touching appeal, or by the laughter and applause it called forth, but +finished her sad part, and was Juliet to the last. + +When, obeying the stormy summons of the audience, the lovers arose from +the dead, and glided ghost-like before the curtain, Zelma, really pale +with the passion and woe of her part, glanced eagerly at the box in +which she had beheld her friends;--it was empty. The worthy Squire, +overcome with confusion at the exposure he had made of his weakness and +simplicity, had hurried from the theatre, willingly accompanied by his +daughter and Sir Harry. + +On the following day, sweet Bessie Burleigh, with the consent, at the +request even, of her father, sought out her famous cousin, bearing terms +of reconciliation and proffers of renewed affection. + +The actress was alone. She had just risen from her late breakfast, and +was in a morning costume,--careless, but not untidy. She looked languid +and jaded; the beautiful light of young love, which the night before had +shone with a soft, lambent flame in every glance, seemed to have burned +itself out in her hollow eyes, or to have been quenched in tears. + +She flung herself on her cousin's breast with a laugh of pure joy and a +child's quick impulse of lovingness; but almost immediately drew herself +back, as with a sudden sense of having leaned across a chasm in the +embrace. But Bessie, guessing her feeling, clung about her very +tenderly, calling her pet names, smoothing her hair and kissing her wan +cheek till she almost kissed back its faded roses. And infinite good she +did poor Zelma. + +Bessie--dear, simple heart!--was no diplomatist; she did not creep +stealthily toward her object, but dashed at it at once. + +"I am come, dearest Zelle, to win you home," she said. "You cannot think +how lonely it is at the Grange, now that dear mamma is gone; and +by-and-by it will be yet more lonely,--at least, for poor papa. He loves +you still, though he was angry with you at first,--and he longs to have +you come back, and to make it all up with you. Oh, I am sure, you must +be weary of this life,--or rather, this mockery of life, this prolonged +fever dream, this playing with passion and pain! It is killing you! Why, +you look worn and anxious and sad as death by daylight, though you do +bloom out strangely bright and beautiful on the stage. So, dear, come +into the country, and rest and renew your life." + +Zelma opened her superb eyes in amazement, and her cheek kindled with a +little flush of displeasure; yet she answered playfully,--"What! would +you resolve 'the new star of the drama' into nebulousness and +nothingness again? Remember my art, sweet Coz; I am a priestess sworn to +its altar." + +"But, surely," replied Bessie, ingenuously, "you will not live on thus +alone, unprotected, a mark for suspicion and calumny; for they say--they +say that your husband has deserted you." + +"Mr. Bury is absent, fulfilling a professional engagement. I shall await +his return here," replied Zelma, haughtily. + +Bessie blushed deeply and was silent. So, too, was the actress, for some +moments; then, softened almost to tears, half closing her eyes, and +letting her fancy float away like thistle-down over town and country, +upland, valley, and moor, she said softly,--"Dear Burleigh Grange, how +lovely it must be now! What a verdurous twilight reigns under the old +elms of the avenue!--in what a passion of bloom the roses are unfolding +to the sun, these warm May-days! How the honeysuckles drip with sweet +dews! how thickly the shed hawthorn-blossoms lie on the grass of the +long lane, rolling in little drifts before the wind! And the birds,--do +the same birds come back to nest in their old places about the Grange, I +wonder?" + +"Yes," answered Bessie, smiling; "I think all the birds have come back, +save one, the dearest of them all, who fled away in the night-time. Her +nest is empty still. Oh, Zelle, do you remember our pleasant little +chamber in the turret? I could not stay there when you were gone. It is +the stillest, loneliest place in all the house now. Even your pet hound +refuses to enter it." + +"Now, my Cousin, you are really cruel," said Zelma, the tears at last +forcing their way through her reluctant eyelids. "When I left Burleigh +Grange, I went like Eve from Paradise,--_forever_." + +"Ah, but Cousin dear, there is no terrible angel with a flaming sword +guarding the gates of the Grange against you." + +"Yes, the angel of its peace and ancient honor," said the actress; then +added, pleasantly, "and he is backed by a mighty ogre, _Respectability_. +No, no, Bessie, I can never go back to my old home, or my old self; it +is quite impossible. But you and my uncle are very good to ask me. +Heaven bless you for that! And, dear, when you are Lady Willerton, a +proud wife, and, if God please, a happy mother, put me away from your +thoughts, if I trouble you. Rest in the safe haven of home, anchored in +content, and do not vex yourself about the poor waif afloat on wild, +unknown seas. It is not worth while." + +So Bessie Burleigh was obliged to abandon her dear, impracticable plan; +and the cousins parted forever, though neither thought or meant it then. +Bessie returned to Arden, married the master of Willerton Hall, and slid +into the easy grooves of a happy, luxurious country-life; while Zelma +rode for a few proud years on the topmost swell of popular favor,--then +suddenly passed away beyond the horizon of London life, and so, as it +were, out of the world. + +One dreary November night, after having revealed new powers and won new +honors by her first personation of Belvedera, Zelma went home to find on +her table a brief, business-like letter from the manager of a theatre at +Walton, a town in the North, stating that Mr. Lawrence Bury had died +suddenly at that place of a violent, inflammatory disease, brought on, +it was to be feared, by some excesses to which he had been addicted. The +theatrical wardrobe of the deceased (of small value) had been retained +in payment for expenses of illness and burial; his private papers were +at the disposal of the widow. Deceased had been buried in the parish +church-yard of Walton. This was all. + +Zelma had abruptly dismissed her maid, that she might read quite +unobserved a letter which she suspected brought news from her husband; +so she was quite alone throughout that fearful night. What fierce, +face-to-face wrestlings with grief and remorse were hers! What sweet, +torturing memories of love, of estrangement, of loss! What visions of +_him_, torn with the agonies, wild with the terrors of death, calling +her name in vain imploring or with angry imprecations!--of him, so +young, so sinful, dragged struggling toward the abyss of mystery and +night, wrenched, as it were, out of life, with all its passions hot at +his heart! + +Hour after hour she sat at her table, grasping the fatal letter, still +as death, and all but as cold. She yet wore the last dress of Belvedera, +and was half enveloped by the black cloud of her dishevelled hair; but +the simulated frenzy, which so late had drawn shuddering sighs from a +thousand hearts, was succeeded by a silent, stony despair, infinitely +more terrible. A sense of hopeless desolation and abandonment settled +upon her soul; the distances of universes seemed to separate her from +the dead. But to this suddenly succeeded a chill, awful sense of a +presence, wrapped in silence and mystery, melting through all material +barriers, treading on the impalpable air, not "looking ancient kindness +on her pain," but lowering amid the shadows of her chamber, stern, +perturbed, unreconciled. All these lonely horrors, these wild griefs, +unrelieved by human sympathy or companionship, by even the unconscious +comfort which flows in the breathing of a near sleeper, crowded and +pressed upon her brain, and seemed to touch her veins with frost and +fire. + +For long weeks, Zelma lay ill, with a slow, baffling fever. Her mind, +torn from its moorings, went wandering, wandering, over a vast sea of +troubled dreams,--now creeping on through weary stretches of calm, now +plunging into the heart of tempests and tossed upon mountainous surges, +now touching momently at islands of light, now wrecked upon black, +desert shores. + +All was strange, vague, and terrible, at first; but gradually there +stole back upon her her own life of womanhood and Art,--its scenes and +changes, its struggles, temptations, and triumphs, its brief joy and +long sorrow, all shaken and confused together, but still familiar. Now +the faces of her audiences seemed to throng upon her, packing her room +from floor to ceiling, darkening the light, sucking up all the air, and +again piercing her through and through with their cold, merciless gaze. +Now the characters she had personated grouped themselves around her bed, +all distinct, yet duplicates and multiplications of herself, mocking her +with her own voice, and glaring at her with her own eyes. Now pleasant +summer-scenes at Burleigh Grange brightened the dull walls, and a memory +of the long lane in the white prime of its hawthorn bloom flowed like a +river of fragrance through her chamber. Then there strode in upon her a +form of beauty and terror, and held her by the passion and gloom of his +eye,--and with him crept in a chill and heavy air, like an exhalation +from the rank turf of neglected graves. + + * * * * * + +Zelma recovered from this illness, if it could be called a recovery, to +a state of only tolerable physical health, and a condition of pitiable +mental apathy and languor. She turned with a half-weary, half-petulant +distaste from her former pursuits and pleasures, and abandoned her +profession with a sort of terror,--feeling that its mockery of sorrows, +such as had fallen so crushingly on her unchastened heart, would madden +her utterly. But neither could she endure again the constraint and +conventionalities of English private life; she had died to her art, and +she glided, like a phantom, out of her country, and out of the thoughts +of the public, in whose breath she had lived, for whose pleasure she had +toiled, often from the hidden force of her own sorrows, the elements of +all tragedy seething in her secret heart. + +Year after year she lived a wandering, out-of-the-way life on the +Continent. It was said that she went to Spain, sought out her mother's +wild kindred, and dwelt with them, making their life her life, their +ways her ways, shrinking neither from sun-glare nor tempest, privation +nor peril. But, at length, tired of wandering and satiated with +adventure, she flung off the Zincala, returned to England, and even +returned, forsworn, to her art, as all do, or long to do, who have once +embraced it from a genuine passion. + +She made no effort to obtain an engagement at Covent Garden; for her, +that stage was haunted by a presence more gloomy than Hamlet, more +dreadful than the Ghost. Nor did she seek to tread, with her free, +unpractised step, the classic boards of Drury Lane,--where Garrick, the +_Grand Monarque_ of the Drama, though now toward the end of his reign, +ruled with jealous, despotic sway,--but modestly and quietly appeared at +a minor theatre, seeming, to such play-goers as remembered her brief, +brilliant career and sudden disappearance, like the Muse of Tragedy +returned from the shades. + +She was kindly received, both for her own sake, and because of the +pleasant memories which the sight of her, pale, slender, and sad-eyed, +yet beautiful still, revived. Those who had once sworn by her swore by +her still, and were loath to admit even to themselves that her early +style of acting--easy, flowing, impulsive, the natural translation in +action of a strong and imaginative nature--must remain what, in the long +absence of the actress, it had become, a beautiful tradition of the +stage,--that her present personations were wanting in force and +spontaneity,--that they were efforts, rather than inspirations,--were +marked by a weary tension of thought,--were careful, but not composed, +roughened by unsteady strokes of genius, freshly furrowed with labor. + +Mrs. Bury made a grave mistake in choosing for her second _debut_ her +great part of Juliet; for she had outlived the possibility of playing it +as she played it at that period of her life when her soul readily melted +in the divine glow of youthful passion and flowed into the character, +taking its perfect shape, rounded and smooth and fair. Through long +years of sorrow and unrest, she had now to toil back to that golden +time,--and there was a sort of sharpness and haggardness about her +acting, a singular tone of weariness, broken by starts and bursts of +almost preternatural power. Except in scenes and sentiments of pathos, +where she had lost nothing, the last, fine, evanishing tints, the +delicate aroma of the character, were wanting in her personation. It was +touched with autumnal shadows,--it was comparatively hard and dry, not +from any inartistic misapprehension of the poet's ideal, but because the +fountain of youth in Zelma's own soul ran low, and was choked by the +dead violets which once sweetened its waters. + +She felt all this bitterly that night, ere the play was over; and though +her audience generously applauded and old friends congratulated her, she +never played Juliet again. + +Yet, even in the darker and sterner parts, in which she was once so +famous, she was hardly more successful now. In losing her bloom and +youthful fulness of form, she had not gained that statuesque repose, or +that refined essence of physical power and energy, which sometimes +belongs to slenderness and pallor. She was often strangely agitated and +unnerved when the occasion called most for calm, sustained power,--at +times, glancing around wildly and piteously, like a haunted creature. +Her passion was fitful and strained,--the fire of rage flickered in her +eye, her relaxed lips quivered out curses, her hand shook with the +dagger and spilled the poison. Her sorrows, real and imaginary, seemed +to have broken her spirit with her heart. + +But in anything weird and supernatural, awful with vague, unearthly +terrors, she was greater than ever. Whenever, in her part of Lady +Macbeth, she came to the sleep-walking scene, that shadowy neutral +ground between death and life, where the perturbed, burdened spirit +moans out its secret agony, she gave startling token of the genius which +had electrified and awed her audiences of old. A solemn stillness +pervaded the house; every eye followed the ghost-like gliding of her +form, every ear hung upon the voice whose tones could sound the most +mysterious and awful depths of human grief and despair. + + * * * * * + +It was during the first season of her reappearance that Mrs. Bury went +to Drury Lane, on an off-night, to witness one of the latest efforts of +Garrick as Richard the Third. He was, as usual, terribly great in the +part; but, in spite of his overwhelming power, Zelma found herself +watching the Lady Anne of the night with a strange, fascinated interest. +This part, of too secondary and negative a character for the display of +high dramatic powers, even in an actress who should be perfect mistress +of herself, was borne by a young and beautiful woman, new to the London +stage, though of some provincial reputation, who on this occasion was +distressingly nervous and ill-assured. She had to contend not only with +stage-fright, but Garrick-fright. "She met Roscius in all his terrors," +and shrank from the encounter. The fierce lightnings of his dreadful +eyes seemed to shrivel and paralyze her; even his demoniac cunning and +persuasiveness filled her with mortal fear. Her voice shook with a +pathetic tremor, became hoarse and almost inaudible; her eyes sank, or +wandered wildly; her brow was bathed with the sweat of a secret agony; +she might have given way utterly under the paralyzing spell, had not +some sudden inspiration of genius or love, a prophetic thrill of power, +or a memory of her unwearied babe, come to nerve, to upbear her. She +roused, and went through her part with some flickering flashes of +spirit, and through all her painful embarrassment was stately and +graceful by the regal necessity of her beauty. The event was not +success,--was but a shade better than utter failure; and when, soon +after, that beautiful woman dropped out of London dramatic life, few +were they who missed her enough to ask whither she had gone. + +But Zelma, whose sad, searching eyes saw deeper than the eyes of +critics, recognized from the first her grand, long-sought ideal in the +fair unknown, whose name had appeared on the play-bills in small, +deprecating type, under the overwhelming capitals of "MR. +GARRICK"--"_Mrs. Siddons_." She looked upon that frightened and fragile +woman with prophetic reverence and noble admiration: and as she walked +her lonely chamber that night, she said to herself, somewhat sadly, but +not bitterly,--"The true light of the English drama has arisen at last. +'Out, out, brief candle!'" + + * * * * * + +Season after season, year after year, Zelma continued to play in London, +but never again with the fame, the homage, the flatteries and triumphs +of a great actress. All these she saw at last accorded to her noble +rival. Mrs. Bury had shone very acceptably in a doubtful dramatic +period,--first as an inspired, impassioned enthusiast, and after as a +conscientious artist, subdued and saddened, yet always careful and +earnest; but, like many another lesser light, she was destined to be +lost sight of in the long, splendid day of the Kembles. + +Yet once again the spirit of unrest, the nomadic instinct, came back +upon Zelma Bury,--haunted her heart and stirred in her blood till she +could resist no longer, but, joining a company for a provincial tour, +left London. + +The health of the actress had been long declining, under the almost +unsuspected attacks of a slow, insidious disease. She was more weak and +ill than she would confess, even to herself; she wanted change, she +said, only change. She never dreamed of rest. Week after week she +travelled,--never tarrying long enough In one place to weary of it,--the +peaceful sights and sounds of rural life tranquillizing and refreshing +her soul, as the clear expanse of its sky, the green of its woods and +parks, the daisied swell of its downs refreshed and soothed her eye, +tired of striking forever against dull brick walls and struggling with +smoke and fog. + +Then May came round,--the haunted month of all the year for her. The +hawthorn-hedges burst into flower,--the high-ways and by-paths and lanes +became Milky Ways of bloom, and all England was once more veined with +fragrance. + +They were in the North, when one morning Zelma was startled by hearing +the manager say that the next night they should play at Walton. It was +there that Lawrence Bury died; it was there he slept, in the stranger's +unvisited grave. She would seek out that grave and sink on it, as on the +breast of one beloved, though long estranged. It would cool the dull, +ceaseless fever of her heart to press it against the cold mound, and to +whisper into the rank grass her faithful remembrance, her forgiveness, +her unconquerable love. + +But it was late when the players reached Walton; and, after the +necessary arrangements for the evening were concluded, Zelma found that +she had no time for a pilgrimage to the parish churchyard. She could see +it from a window of her lodgings;--it was high-walled, dark and damp, +crowded with quaint, mossy tomb-stones, and brooded over by immemorial +yews. In the deepening, misty twilight, there was something awful in the +spot. It was easy to fancy unquiet spectres lurking in its gloomy +shadows, waiting for the night Yet Zelma's heart yearned toward it, and +she murmured softly, as she turned away, "Wait for me, love!" + +The play, on this night, was "The Fair Penitent." In the character of +Calista Mrs. Bury had always been accounted great, though it was +distasteful to her. Indeed, for the entire play she expressed only +contempt and aversion; yet she played her part in it faithfully and +carefully, as she performed all professional tasks. + +In reading this tragedy now, one is at a loss to understand how such +trash could have been tolerated at the very time of the revival of a +pure dramatic literature,--how such an unsavored broth of sentiment, +such a meagre hash of heroics, could have been relished, even when +served by Kembles, after the rich, varied, Olympian banquets of +Shakspeare. + +The argument is briefly this:-- + +Calista, daughter of Sciolto, is betrothed to Altamount, a young lord, +favored by Sciolto. Altamount has a friend, Horatio, and an enemy, +Lothario, secretly the lover and seducer of Calista, whose dishonor is +discovered by Horatio, shortly after her marriage with Altamount, to +whom he reveals it. Calista denies the charge, with fierce indignation +and scorn; and the young husband believes her and discredits his friend. +But the fourth act brings the guilt of Calista and the villany of +Lothario fully to light. Lothario is killed by the injured husband, +Sciolto goes mad with shame and rage, and Calista falls into a state of +despair and penitence. + +The fifth act opens with Sciolto's elaborate preparations for vengeance +on his daughter. The stage directions for this scene are,-- + + ["A room hung with black: on one side Lothario's + body on a bier; on the other a table, + with a skull and other bones, a book, and a + lamp on it. Calista is discovered on a couch, + in black, her hair hanging loose and disordered. + After soft music, she rises and comes + forward."] + +She takes the book from the table, but, finding it the pious prosing of +some "lazy, dull, luxurious gownsman," flings it aside. She examines the +cross-bones curiously, lays her hand on the skull, soliloquizing upon +mortality, somewhat in the strain of Hamlet; then peers into the coffin +of Lothario, beholds his pale visage, "grim with clotted blood," and the +stern, unwinking stare of his dead eyes. Sciolto enters and bids her +prepare to die; but while she stands meek and unresisting before him, +his heart fails him; he rushes out, and is shortly after killed by +Lothario's faction. Calista then dies by her own hand, leaving Altamount +desperate and despairing. + +Poor Calista is neither a lovely nor a lofty character; but there is +something almost grand in her fierce pride, in her defiant _hauteur_, in +her mighty struggle with shame. Mrs. Siddons made the part terribly +impressive. Mrs. Bury softened it somewhat, giving it a womanly dignity +and pathos that would seem foreign and almost impossible to the +character. + + * * * * * + +When Zelma entered her dressing-room, on that first night at Walton, she +found on her table a small spray of hawthorn-blossoms. + +"How came these flowers here?" she asked, in a hurried, startled tone. + +"I placed them there," replied her little maid, Susan, half-frightened +by the strange agitation of her mistress. "I plucked the sprig in our +landlady's garden; for I remembered that you loved hawthorn-blossoms, +and used often to buy them in Covent-Garden Market." + +"Ah, yes; thank you, Susan. I do indeed love them, and I will wear them +to-night." + +As she said this, she placed the flowers in her bosom,--but, the little +maid noticed, not as an ornament, but quite out of sight, where her +close bodice would crush them against her heart. + +During the first acts of the play, Zelma was languid, absent, and more +unequal than usual. A strange sense of evil, a vague foreboding, haunted +her. It was in vain that she said to herself, "What have I, a lonely, +disappointed woman, loveless and joyless, to fear of misfortune +more,--since death itself were welcome as change, and doubly welcome as +rest?" The nameless fear still clung to her, sending cold thrills along +her veins, fiercely grasping and holding her palpitating heart. + +When, in the last act, reclining on her sombre couch, she waited through +the playing of the "soft music," there came to her a little season of +respite and calm. Tender thoughts, and sweet, wild fancies of other days +revisited her. The wilted hawthorn-blossoms in her bosom seemed to +revive and to pour forth volumes of fragrance, which enveloped her like +an atmosphere; and as she rose and advanced slowly toward the +foot-lights, winking dimly like funeral lamps amid the gloom of the +scene, it strangely seemed to her that she was going down the long, +sweet lane of Burleigh Grange. The magic of that perfume, and something +of kindred sweetness in the sad, wailing music, brought old times and +scenes before her with preternatural distinctness. Then she became +conscious of a _something_ making still darker and deeper the gloomy +shadows cast by the black hangings of the scene,--a presence, not +palpable or visible to the senses, but terribly real to the finer +perceptions of the spirit,--a presence unearthly, yet familiar and +commanding, persistent, resistless, unappeasable,--moving as she moved, +pausing as she paused, clutching at her hands, and searching after her +eyes. The air about her seemed heavy with a brooding horror which sought +to resolve itself into shape,--the dread mystery of life in death +waiting to be revealed. Her own soul seemed groping and beating against +the veil which hides the unseen; she gasped, she trembled, and great +drops, like the distillation of the last mortal anguish, burst from her +forehead. + +She was roused by a murmur of applause from the audience. She was acting +so well! Nerving herself by an almost superhuman effort, her +phantom-haunted soul standing at bay, she approached the table, and +began, in a voice but slightly broken, the reading of her melancholy +soliloquy. But, as she laid her hand on the skull, she gave a wild start +of horror,--not at the touch of the cold, smooth bone, nor at the blank, +black stare of the eyeless sockets, but at finding beneath her hand a +mass of soft, curling hair, damp, as with night-dew!--at beholding eyes +with "speculation" in them,--ay, with human passions, luminous and +full,--eyes that now yearned with love, now burned with hate,--ah, God! +the eyes of Lawrence Bury! + +With a shrill, frenzied shriek, Zelma sprang back and stood for a moment +shuddering and crouching in a mute agony of fear. Then she burst into +wild cries of grief and passionate entreaty, stretching her tremulous +hands into the void air, in piteous imploring. + +"She has gone mad! Take her away!" shouted the excited audience; but +before any one could reach her, she had fallen on the stage in strong +convulsions. + +The actors raised her and bore her out; and as they did so, a little +stream of blood was seen to bubble from her lips. A medical man, who +happened to be present, having proffered his services, was hurried +behind the scenes to where the sufferer lay, on a rude couch in the +green-room, surrounded by the frightened players, and wept over by her +faithful little maid. + +The audience lingered awhile within sound of the fitful, frenzied cries +of the dying actress, and then dispersed in dismay and confusion. + +Zelma remained for some hours convulsed and delirious; but toward +morning she sank into a deep, swoon-like sleep of utter exhaustion. She +awoke from this, quite sane and calm, but marble-white and cold,--the +work of death all done, it seemed, save the dashing out of the sad, wild +light yet burning in her sunken eyes. But the bright red blood no longer +oozed from her lips, and they told her she was better. She gave no heed +to the assurance, but, somewhat in her old, quick, decisive way, called +for the manager. Scarcely had he reached her side, when she began to +question him eagerly, though in hoarse, failing tones, in regard to the +skull used in the play of the preceding night. The manager had procured +it of the sexton, he said, and knew nothing more of it. + +She sent for the sexton. He came,--a man "of the earth, earthy,"--a man +with a grave-ward stoop and a strange uneven gait, caught in forty +years' stumbling over mounds. A smell of turf and mould, an odor of +mortality, went before him. + +He approached the couch of the actress, and looked down upon her with a +curious, professional look, as though he were peering into a face newly +coffined or freshly exhumed; but when Zelma fixed her live eyes upon +him, angry and threatening, and asked, in abrupt, yet solemn tones, +"Whose was that skull you brought for me last night?" he fell back with +an exclamation of surprise and terror. As soon as he could collect +himself sufficiently, he replied, that, to the best of his knowledge, +the skull had belonged to a poor play-actor, who had died in the parish +some sixteen or, it might be, eighteen years before; and compelled by +the merciless inquisition of those eyes, fixed and stern, though +dilating with horror, he added, that, if his memory served him well, the +player's name was _Bury_. + +A strong shudder shivered through the poor woman's frame at this +confirmation of the awful revealment of the previous night; but she +replied calmly, though with added sternness,--"He was my husband. How +dared you disturb his bones? Are you a ghoul, that you burrow among +graves and steal from the dead?" + +The poor man eagerly denied being anything so inhuman. The skull had +rolled into a grave he had been digging by the side of the almost +forgotten grave of the poor player; and, as the manager had bespoken one +for the play, he had thought it no harm to furnish him this. But he +would put it back carefully into its place that very day. + +"See that you do it, man, if you value the repose of your own soul!" +said Zelma, with an awful impressiveness, raising herself on one elbow +and looking him out of the room. + +When he was gone, she sunk back and murmured, partly to herself, partly +to her little maid, who wept through all, the more that she did not +understand,--"I knew it was so; it was needless to ask. Well, 'tis well; +he will forgive me, now that I come when he calls me, accomplishing to +the utmost my vow. He will make peace with me, when I take my old place +at his side,--when my head shall lie as low as his,--when he sees that +all the laurels have dropped away,--when he sees the sorrow shining +through the dark of my hair in rifts of silver." + +After a little time she grew restless, and would return to her lodgings. + +As the doctor and her attendant were about placing her in a sedan-chair +to bear her away, a strange desire seized her to behold the theatre and +tread the boards once more. They conducted her to the centre of the +stage, and seated her on the black couch of Calista. There they left her +quite alone for a while, and stood back where they could observe without +disturbing her. They saw her gaze about her dreamily and mournfully; +then she seemed to be recalling and reciting some favorite part. To +their surprise, the tones of her voice were clear and resonant once +more; and when she had ceased speaking, she rose and walked toward them, +slowly, but firmly, turning once or twice to bow proudly and solemnly to +an invisible audience. Just before she reached them, she suddenly +pressed her hand on her heart, and the next instant felt forward into +the arms of her maid. The young girl could not support the weight--the +_dead_ weight, and sank with it to the floor. Zelma had made her last +exit. + + + + +THE MURDER OF THE INNOCENTS. + +A SECOND EPISTLE TO DOLOROSUS. + + +So you are already mending, my dear fellow? Can it be that my modest +epistle has done so much service? Are you like those invalids in Central +Africa, who, when the medicine itself is not accessible, straightway +swallow the written prescription as a substitute, inwardly digest it, +and recover? No,--I think you have tested the actual _materia medica_ +recommended. I hear of you from all directions, walking up hills in the +mornings and down hills in the afternoons, skimming round in wherries +like a rather unsteady water-spider, blistering your hands upon +gymnastic bars, receiving severe contusions on your nose from +cricket-balls, shaking up and down on hard-trotting horses, and making +the most startling innovations in respect to eating, sleeping, and +bathing. Like all our countrymen, you are plunging from one extreme to +the other. Undoubtedly, you will soon make yourself sick again; but your +present extreme is the safer of the two. Time works many miracles; it +has made Louis Napoleon espouse the cause of liberty, and it may yet +make you reasonable. + +After all, that advice of mine, which is thought to have benefited you +so greatly, was simply that which Dr. Abernethy used to give his +patients: "Don't come to me,--go buy a skipping-rope." If you can only +guard against excesses, and keep the skipping-rope in operation, there +are yet hopes for you. Only remember that it is equally important to +preserve health as to attain it, and it needs much the same regimen. Do +not be like that Lord Russell in Spence's Anecdotes, who only went +hunting for the sake of an appetite, and who, the moment he felt any +sensation of vitality in the epigastrium, used to turn short round, +exclaiming, "I have found it!" and ride home from the finest chase. It +was the same Lord Russell, by the way, who, when he met a beggar and was +implored to give him something, because he was almost famished with +hunger, called him a happy dog, and envied him too much to relieve him. +From some recent remarks of your boarding-house hostess, my friend, I am +led to suppose that you are now almost as well off, in point of +appetite, as if you were a beggar; and I wish to keep you so. + +How much the spirits rise with health! A family of children is a very +different sight to a healthy man and to a dyspeptic. What pleasure you +now take in yours! You are going to live more in their manner and for +their sakes, henceforward, you tell me. You are to enter upon business +again, but in a more moderate way; you are to live in a pleasant little +suburban cottage, with fresh air, a horse-railroad, and good schools. +For I am startled to find that your interest In your offspring, like +that of most American parents, culminates in the school-room. This +important matter you have neglected long enough, you think, foolishly +absorbed in making money for them. Now they shall have money enough, to +be sure, but wisdom in plenty. Angelina shall walk in silk attire, and +knowledge have to spare. To which school shall you send her? you ask me, +with something of the old careworn expression, pulling six different +prospectuses from your pocket. Put them away, Dolorosus; I know the +needs of Angelina, and I can answer instantly. Send the girl, for the +present at least, to that school whose daily hours of session are the +shortest, and whose recess-times and vacations are of the most +formidable length. + +No, anxious parent, I am not joking. I am more anxious for your children +than you are. On the faith of an ex-teacher and ex-school-committee- +man,--for what respectable middle-aged American man but has passed +through both these spheres of uncomfortable usefulness?--I am terribly +in earnest. Upon this point asserted,--that the merit of an American +school, at least so far as Angelina is concerned, is in inverse ratio to +the time given to study,--I will lay down incontrovertible propositions. + +Sir Walter Scott, according to Carlyle, was the only perfectly healthy +literary man who ever lived,--in fact, the one suitable text, he says, +for a sermon on health. You may wonder, Dolorosus, what Sir Walter Scott +has to do with Angelina, except to supply her with novel-reading, and +with passages for impassioned recitation, at the twilight hour, from the +"Lady of the Lake." But that same Scott has left one remark on record +which may yet save the lives and reasons of greater men than himself, +more gifted women (if that were possible) than Angelina, if we can only +accept it with the deference to which that same healthiness of his +entitles it. He gave it as his deliberate opinion, in conversation with +Basil Hall, that five and a half hours form the limit of healthful +mental labor for a mature person. "This I reckon very good work for a +man," he said,--adding, "I can very seldom reach six hours a day; and I +reckon that what is written after five or six hours' hard mental labor +is not good for much." This he said in the fulness of his magnificent +strength, and when he was producing, with astounding rapidity, those +pages of delight over which every new generation still hangs enchanted. + +He did not mean, of course, that this was the maximum of possible mental +labor, but only of wise and desirable labor. In later life, driven by +terrible pecuniary involvements, he himself worked far more than this. +Southey, his contemporary, worked far more,--writing, in 1814, "I cannot +get through more than at present, unless I give up sleep, or the little +exercise I take (walking a mile and back, after breakfast); and, that +hour excepted, and my meals, (barely the meals, for I remain not one +minute after them,) the pen or the book is always in my hand." Our own +time and country afford a yet more astonishing instance. Theodore +Parker, to my certain knowledge, has often spent in his study from +twelve to seventeen hours daily, for weeks together. But the result in +all these cases has sadly proved the supremacy of the laws which were +defied; and the nobler the victim, the more tremendous the warning +retribution. + +Let us return, then, from the practice of Scott's ruined days to the +principles of his sound ones. Supposing his estimate to be correct, and +five and a half hours to be a reasonable limit for the day's work of a +mature brain, it is evident that even this must be altogether too much +for an immature one. "To suppose the youthful brain," says the recent +admirable report by Dr. Ray, of the Providence Insane Hospital, "to be +capable of an amount of work which is considered an ample allowance to +an adult brain is simply absurd, and the attempt to carry this fully +into effect must necessarily be dangerous to the health and efficacy of +the organ." It would be wrong, therefore, to deduct less than a +half-hour from Scott's estimate, for even the oldest pupils in our +highest schools; leaving five hours as the limit of real mental effort +for them, and reducing this, for all younger pupils, very much farther. + +It is vain to suggest, at this point, that the application of Scott's +estimate is not fair, because the mental labor of our schools is +different in quality from his, and therefore less exhausting. It differs +only in being more exhausting. To the robust and affluent mind of the +novelist, composition was not, of itself, exceedingly fatiguing; we know +this from his own testimony; he was able, moreover, to select his own +subject, keep his own hours, and arrange all his own conditions of +labor. And on the other hand, when we consider what energy and genius +have for years been brought to bear upon the perfecting of our +educational methods,--how thoroughly our best schools are now graded +and systematized, until each day's lessons become a Procrustes-bed to +which all must fit themselves,--how stimulating the apparatus of prizes +and applauses, how crushing the penalties of reproof and +degradation,--when we reflect, that it is the ideal of every school, +that the whole faculties of every scholar should be concentrated upon +every lesson and every recitation from beginning to end, and that +anything short of this is considered partial failure,--it is not +exaggeration to say, that the daily tension of brain demanded of +children in our best schools is altogether severer, while it lasts, than +that upon which Scott based his estimate. But Scott is not the only +authority in the case; let us ask the physiologists. + +So said Horace Mann, before us, in the days when the Massachusetts +school system was in process of formation. He asked the physiologists, +in 1840, and in his next Report printed the answers of three of the most +eminent. The late Dr. Woodward, of Worcester, promptly said, that +children under eight should never be confined more than one hour at a +time, nor more than four hours a day; and that, if any child showed +alarming symptoms of precocity, it should be taken from school +altogether. Dr. James Jackson, of Boston, allowed the children four +hours' schooling in winter and five in summer, but only one hour at a +time, and heartily expressed his "detestation of the practice of giving +young children lessons to learn at home." Dr. S. G. Howe, reasoning +elaborately on the whole subject, said, that children under eight should +not be confined more than half an hour at a time,--"by following which +rule, with long recesses, they can study four hours daily"; children +between eight and fourteen should not be confined more than +three-quarters of an hour at a time, having the last quarter of each +hour for exercise in the playground,--and he allowed six hours of school +in winter, or seven in summer, solely on condition of this deduction of +twenty-five per cent, for recesses. + +Indeed, the one thing about which doctors do _not_ disagree is the +destructive effect of premature or excessive mental labor. I can quote +you medical authority for and against every maxim of dietetics beyond +the very simplest; but I defy you to find one man who ever begged, +borrowed, or stole the title of M.D., and yet abused those two honorary +letters by asserting, under their cover, that a child could safely study +as much as a man, or that a man could safely study more than six hours a +day. Most of the intelligent men in the profession would probably admit, +with Scott, that even that is too large an allowance in maturity for +vigorous work of the brain. + +Taking, then, five hours as the reasonable daily limit of mental effort +for children of eight to fourteen years, and one hour as the longest +time of continuous confinement, (it was a standing rule of the Jesuits, +by the way, that no pupil should study more than two hours without +relaxation,) the important question now recurs, To what school shall we +send Angelina? + +Shall we send her, for instance, to Dothegirls' Hall? At that seminary +of useful knowledge, I find by careful inquiry that the daily +performance is as follows, at least in summer. The pupils rise at or +before five, A.M.; at any rate, they study from five to seven, two +hours. From seven to eight they breakfast. From eight to two they are in +the schoolroom, six consecutive hours. From two to three they dine. From +three to five they are "allowed" to walk or take other exercise,--that +is, if it is pleasant weather, and if they feel the spirit for it, and +if the time is not all used up in sewing, writing letters, school +politics, and all the small miscellaneous duties of existence, for which +no other moment is provided during day or night. From five to six they +study; from six to seven comes the tea-table; from seven to nine study +again; then bed and (at least for the stupid ones) sleep. + +Eleven solid hours of study each day, Dolorosus! Eight for sleep, three +for meals, two during which out-door exercise is "allowed." There is no +mistake about this statement; I wish there were. I have not imagined it; +who could have done so, short of Milton and Dante, who were versed in +the exploration of kindred regions of torment? But as I cannot expect +the general public to believe the statement, even if you do,--and as +this letter, like my previous one, may accidentally find its way into +print,--and as I cannot refer to those who have personally attended the +school, since they probably die off too fast to be summoned as +witnesses,--I will come down to a rather milder statement, and see if +you will believe that. + +Shall we send her, then, to the famous New York school of Mrs. +Destructive? This is recently noticed as follows in the "Household +Journal":--"Of this most admirable school, for faithful and well-bred +system of education, we have long intended to speak approvingly; but in +the following extract from the circular the truth is more expressively +given:--'From September to April the time of rising is a quarter before +seven o'clock, and from April to July half an hour earlier; then +breakfast; after which, from eight to nine o'clock, study,--the school +opening at nine o'clock, with reading the Scriptures and prayer. From +nine until half past twelve, the recitations succeed one another, with +occasional short intervals of rest. From half past twelve to one, +recreation and lunch. From one to three o'clock, at which hour the +school closes, the studies are exclusively in the French language.... +From three to four o'clock in the winter, but later in the summer, +exercise in the open air. There are also opportunities for exercise +several times in the day, at short intervals, which cannot easily be +explained. From a quarter past four to five o'clock, study; then dinner, +and soon after, tea. From seven to nine, two hours of study; immediately +after which all retire for the night, and lights in the sleeping +apartments must be extinguished at half past nine.'" You have summed up +the total already, Dolorosus; I see it on your lips;--nine--hours-- +and--a quarter of study, and one solitary hour for exercise, not +counting those inexplicable "short intervals which cannot easily be +explained!" + +You will be pleased to hear that I have had an opportunity of witnessing +the brilliant results of Mrs. Destructive's system, in the case of my +charming little neighbor, Fanny Carroll. She has lately returned from a +stay of one year under that fashionable roof. In most respects, I was +assured, the results of the school were all that could be desired; the +mother informed me, with delight, that the child now spoke French like +an angel from Paris, and handled her silver fork like a seraph from the +skies. You may well suppose that I hastened to call upon her; for the +gay little creature was always a great pet of mine, and I always quoted +her with delight, as a proof that bloom and strength were not +monopolized by English girls. In the parlor I found the mother closeted +with the family physician. Soon, Fanny, aged sixteen, glided in,--a pale +spectre, exquisite in costume, unexceptionable in manners, looking in +all respects like an exceedingly used-up belle of five-and-twenty. "What +were you just saying that some of my Fanny's symptoms were, Doctor?" +asked the languid mother, as if longing for a second taste of some +dainty morsel. The courteous physician dropped them into her eager palm, +like sugar-plums, one by one: "Vertigo, headache, neuralgic pains, and +general debility." The mother sighed once genteelly at me, and then +again, quite sincerely, to herself;--but I never yet saw an habitual +invalid who did not seem to take a secret satisfaction in finding her +child to be a chip of the old block, though block and chip were both +wofully decayed. However, nothing is now said of Miss Carroll's +returning to school; and the other day I actually saw her dashing +through the lane on the family pony, with a tinge of the old brightness +in her cheeks. I ventured to inquire of her, soon after, if she had +finished her education; and she replied, with a slight tinge of satire, +that she studied regularly every day, at various "short intervals, +which could not easily be explained." + +Five hours a day the safe limit for study, Dolorosus, and these terrible +schools quietly put into their programmes nine, ten, eleven hours; and +the deluded parents think they have out-manoeuvred the laws of Nature, +and made a better bargain with Time. But these are private, exclusive +schools, you may say, for especially favored children. We cannot afford +to have most of the rising generation murdered so expensively; and in +our public schools, at least, one thinks there may be some relaxation of +this tremendous strain. Besides, physiological reformers had the making +of our public system. "A man without high health," said Horace Mann, "is +as much at war with Nature as a guilty soul is at war with the spirit of +God." Look first at our Normal Schools, therefore, and see how finely +their theory, also, presents this same lofty view. + +"Those who have had much to do with students, especially with the female +portion," said a Normal School Report a few years since, "well know the +sort of martyr-spirit that extensively prevails,--how ready they often +are to sacrifice everything for the sake of a good lesson,--how false +are their notions of true economy in mental labor, ... sacrificing their +physical natures most unscrupulously to their intellectual. Indeed, so +strong had this passion for abuse become [in this institution], that no +study of the laws of the physical organization, no warning, no painful +experiences of their own or of their associates, were sufficient to +overcome their readiness for self-sacrifice." And it appears, that, in +consequence of this state of things, circulars were sent to all +boarding-houses in the village, laying down stringent rules to prevent +the young ladies from exceeding the prescribed amount of study. + +Now turn from theory to practice. What was this "prescribed amount of +study" which these desperate young females persisted in exceeding in +this model school? It began with an hour's study before daylight (in +winter),--a thing most dangerous to eyesight, as multitudes have found +to their cost. Then from eight to half past two, from four to half past +five, from seven to nine,--with one or two slight recesses. Ten hours +and three quarters daily, Dolorosus! as surely as you are a living +sinner, and as surely as the Board of Education who framed that +programme were sinners likewise. I believe that some Normal Schools have +learned more moderation now; but I know also what forlorn wrecks of +womanhood have been strewed along their melancholy history, thus far; +and at what incalculable cost their successes have been purchased. + +But it is premature to contemplate this form of martyrdom, for Angelina, +who has to run the gantlet of our common schools and high schools first. +Let us consider her prospects in these, carrying with us that blessed +maxim, five hours' study a day,--"Nature loves the number five," as +Emerson judiciously remarks,--for our aegis against the wiles of +schoolmasters. + +The year 1854 is memorable for a bomb-shell then thrown into the midst +of the triumphant school-system of Boston, in the form of a solemn +protest by the city physician against the ruinous manner in which the +children were overworked. Fact, feeling, and physiology were brought to +bear, with much tact and energy, and the one special point of assault +was the practice of imposing out-of-school studies, beyond the habitual +six hours of session. A committee of inquiry was appointed. They +interrogated the grammar-school teachers. The innocent and unsuspecting +teachers were amazed at the suggestion of any excess. Most of them +promptly replied, in writing, that "they had never heard of any +complaints on this subject from parents or guardians"; that "most of the +masters were watchful upon the matter"; that "none of them _pressed_ +out-of-school studies"; while "the general opinion appeared to be, that +a moderate amount of out-of-school study was both necessary for the +prescribed course of study and wholesome in its influence on character +and habits." They suggested that "commonly the ill health that might +exist arose from other causes than excessive study"; one attributed it +to the use of confectionery, another to fashionable parties, another to +the practice of "chewing pitch,"--anything, everything, rather than +admit that American children of fourteen could possibly be damaged by +working only two hours day _more_ than Walter Scott. + +However, the committee thought differently. At any rate, they fancied +that they had more immediate control over the school-hours than they +could exercise over the propensity of young girls for confectionery, or +over the improprieties of small boys who, yet immature for tobacco, +touched pitch and were defiled. So by their influence was passed that +immortal Section 7 of Chapter V. of the School Regulations,--the Magna +Charta of childish liberty, so far as it goes, and the only safeguard +which renders it prudent to rear a family within the limits of Boston:-- + +"In assigning lessons to boys to be studied out of school-hours, the +instructors shall not assign a longer lesson than a boy of good capacity +can acquire by an hour's study; but no out-of-school lessons shall be +assigned to girls, nor shall the lessons to be studied in school be so +long as to require a scholar of ordinary capacity to study out of school +in order to learn them." + +It appears that since that epoch this rule has "generally" been +observed, "though many of the teachers would prefer a different +practice." "The rule is regarded by some as an uncomfortable +restriction, which without, adequate reason (!) retards the progress of +pupils." "A majority of our teachers would consider the permission to +assign lessons for study at home to be a decided advantage and +privilege." So say the later reports of the committee. + +Fortunately for Angelina and the junior members of the house of +Dolorosus, you are not now directly dependent upon Boston regulations. I +mention them only because they represent a contest which is inevitable +in every large town in the United States where the public-school system +is sufficiently perfected to be dangerous. It is simply the question, +whether children can bear more brain-work than men can. Physiology, +speaking through my humble voice, (the personification may remind you of +the days when men began poems with "Inoculation, heavenly maid!") +shrieks loudly for five hours as the utmost limit, and four hours as far +more reasonable than six. But even the comparatively moderate "friends +of education" still claim the contrary. Mr. Bishop, the worthy +Superintendent of Schools in Boston, says, (Report, 1855,) "The time +daily allotted to studies may very properly be extended to seven hours a +day for young persons over fifteen years of age"; and the Secretary of +the Massachusetts Board of Education, in his recent volume, seems to +think it a great concession to limit the period for younger pupils to +six. + +And we must not forget, that, frame regulations as we may, the tendency +will always be to overrun them. In the report of the Boston +sub-committee to which I have referred, it was expressly admitted that +the restrictions recommended "would not alone remedy the evil, or do +much toward it; there would still be much, and with the ambitious too +much, studying out of school." They ascribed the real difficulty "to the +general arrangements of our schools, and to the strong pressure from +various causes urging the pupils to intense application and the masters +to encourage it," and said that this "could only be met by some general +changes introduced by general legislation." Some few of the masters had +previously admitted the same thing: "The pressure from without, the +expectations of the committee, the wishes of the parents, the ambition +of the pupils, and an exacting public sentiment, do tend to stimulate +many to excessive application, both in and out of school." + +This admits the same fact, in a different form. If these children have +half their vitality taken out of them for life by premature and +excessive brain-work, it makes no difference whether it is done in the +form of direct taxation or of indirect,--whether they are compelled to +it by authority or allured into it by excitement and emulation. If a +horse breaks a blood-vessel by running too hard, it is no matter whether +he was goaded by whip and spur, or ingeniously coaxed by the Hibernian +method of a lock of hay tied six inches before his nose. The method is +nothing,--it is the pace which kills. Probably the fact is, that for +every extra hour directly required by the teacher, another is indirectly +extorted in addition by the general stimulus of the school. The best +scholars put on the added hour, because they are the best,--and the +inferior scholars, because they are not the best. In either case the +excess is destructive in its tendency, and the only refuge for +individuals is to be found in a combination of fortunate dulness with +happy indifference to shame. But is it desirable, my friend, to +construct our school-system on such a basis that safety and health shall +be monopolized by the stupid and the shameless? + +Is this magnificent system of public instruction, the glory of the +world, to turn out merely a vast machine for grinding down Young +America, just as the system of middle-men, similarly organized, has +ground down the Irish peasantry? Look at it! as now arranged, committees +are responsible to the public, teachers to committees, pupils to +teachers,--all pledged to extract a maximum crop from childish brains. +Each is responsible to the authority next above him for a certain +amount, and must get it out of the victim next below him. Constant +improvements in machinery perfect and expedite the work; improved gauges +and metres (in the form of examinations) compute the comparative yield +to a nicety, and allow no evasion. The child cannot spare an hour, for +he must keep up with the other children; the teacher dares not relax, +for he must keep up with the other schools; the committees must only +stimulate, not check, for the eyes of the editors are upon them, and the +municipal glory is at stake: every one of these, from highest to lowest, +has his appointed place in the tread-mill and must keep step with the +rest; and only once a year, at the summer vacation, the vast machine +stops, and the poor remains of childish brain and body are taken out and +handed to anxious parents (like you, Dolorosus):--"Here, most worthy +tax-payer, is the dilapidated residue of your beloved Angelina; take her +to the sea-shore for a few weeks, and make the most of her." + +Do not you know that foreigners, coming from the contemplation of races +less precociously intellectual, see the danger we are in, if we do not? +I was struck by the sudden disappointment of an enthusiastic English +teacher, (Mr. Calthrop,) who visited the New York schools the other day +and got a little behind the scenes. "If I wanted a stranger to believe +that the Millennium was not far off," he said, "I would take him to some +of those grand ward-schools in New York, where able heads are trained by +the thousand. I spent four or five days in doing little else than going +through these truly wonderful schools. I staid more than three hours in +one of them, wondering at all I saw, admiring the stately order, the +unbroken discipline of the whole arrangements, and the wonderful +quickness and intelligence of the scholars. That same evening I went to +see a friend, whose daughter, a child of thirteen, was at one of these +schools. I examined her, and found that the little girl could hold her +own with many of larger growth. 'Did she go to school to-day?' asked I. +'No,' was the answer, 'she has not been for some time, as she was +beginning to get quite a serious curvature of the spine; so now she goes +regularly to a gymnastic doctor!'" + +I am sure that we have all had the same experience. How exciting it was, +last year, to be sure, to see Angelina at the grammar-school +examination, multiplying mentally 351,426 by 236,145, and announcing the +result in two minutes and thirteen seconds as 82,987,492,770! I +remember how you stood trembling as she staggered under the monstrous +load, and how your cheek hung out the red flag of parental exultation +when she can out safe. But when I looked at her colorless visage, sharp +features, and shiny consumptive skin, I groaned inwardly. It seemed as +if that crop of figures, like the innumerable florets of the whiteweed, +now overspreading your paternal farm, were exhausting the last vitality +from a shallow soil. What a pity it is that the Deity gave to these +children of ours bodies as well as brains! How it interferes with +thorough instruction in the languages and the sciences! You remember the +negro-trader in "Uncle Tom," who sighs for a lot of negroes specially +constructed for his convenience, with the souls left out? Could not some +of our school-committees take measures to secure the companion set, +possessing merely the brains, and with the troublesome bodies +conveniently omitted? + +The truth is, that we Americans, having overcome all other obstacles to +universal education of the people, have thought to overcome even the +limitations imposed by the laws of Nature; and so we were going +triumphantly on, when the ruined health of our children suddenly brought +us to a stand. Now we suddenly discover, that, in the absence of +Inquisitions, and other unpleasant Old-World tortures, our school-houses +have taken their place. We have outgrown war, we think; and yet we have +not outgrown a form of contest which is undeniably more sanguinary, +since one-half the community actually die, under present arrangements, +before they are old enough to see a battle-field,--that is, before the +age of eighteen. It is an actual fact, that, if you can only keep +Angelina alive up to that birthday, even if she be an ignoramus, she +will at least have accomplished the feat of surviving half her +contemporaries. Can there be no Peace Society to check this terrific +carnage? Dolorosus, rather than have a child of mine die, as I have +recently heard of a child's dying, insane from sheer overwork, and +raving of algebra, I would have her come no nearer to the splendors of +science than the man in the French play, who brings away from school +only the general impression that two and two make five for a creditor +and three for a debtor. + +De Quincey wrote a treatise on "Murder considered as one of the Fine +Arts," and it is certainly the fine art which receives most attention in +our schools. "So far as the body is concerned," said Horace Mann of +these institutions, "they provide for all the natural tendencies to +physical ease and inactivity as carefully as though paleness and +languor, muscular enervation and debility, were held to be constituent +elements in national beauty." With this denial of the body on one side, +with this tremendous stimulus of brain on the other, and with a delicate +and nervous national organization to begin with, the result is +inevitable. Boys hold out better than girls, partly because they are not +so docile in school, partly because they are allowed to be more active +out of it, and so have more recuperative power. But who has not seen +some delicate girl, after five consecutive hours spent over French and +Latin and Algebra, come home to swallow an indigestible dinner, and +straightway settle down again to spend literally every waking hour out +of the twenty-four in study, save those scanty meal-times,--protracting +the labor, it may be, far into the night, till the weary eyes close +unwillingly over the slate or the lexicon,--then to bed, to be vexed by +troubled dreams, instead of being wrapt in the sunny slumber of +childhood,--waking unrefreshed, to be reproached by parents and friends +with the nervous irritability which this detestable routine has created? + +For I aver that parents are more exacting than even teachers. It is +outrageous to heap it all upon the pedagogues, as if they were the only +apostolical successors of him whom Charles Lamb lauded "the much +calumniated good King Herod." Indeed, teachers have no objection to +educating the bodies of their small subjects, if they can only be as +well paid for it as for educating their intellects. But, until recently, +they have never been allowed to put the bodies into the bill. And as +charity begins at home, even in a physiological sense,--and as their own +children's bodies required bread and butter,--they naturally postponed +all regard for the physical education of their pupils until the thing +acquired a marketable value. Now that the change is taking place, every +schoolmaster in the land gladly adapts himself to it, and hastens to +insert in his advertisement, "Especial attention given to physical +education." But what good does this do, so long as parents are not +willing that time enough should be deducted from the ordinary tasks to +make the athletic apparatus available,--so long as it is regarded as a +merit in pupils to take time from their plays and give it to extra +studies,--so long as we exult over an inactive and studious child, as +Dr. Beattie did over his, that "exploits of strength, dexterity, and +speed" "to him no vanity or joy could bring," and then almost die of +despair, like Dr. Beattie, because such a child dies before us? With +girls it is far worse. "Girls, during childhood, are liable to no +diseases distinct from those of boys," says Salzmann, "except the +disease of education." What mother in decent society, I ask you, who is +not delighted to have her little girl devote even Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons to additional tasks in drawing or music, rather than run the +risk of having her make a noise somewhere, or possibly even soil her +dress? Papa himself will far more readily appropriate ten dollars to +this additional confinement than five to the gymnasium or the +riding-school. And so, beset with snares on every hand, the poor little +well-educated thing can only pray the prayer recorded of a despairing +child, brought up in the best society,--that she might "die and go to +heaven and play with the Irish children on Saturday afternoons." + +And the Sunday Schools cooeperate with the week-day seminaries in the +pious work of destruction. Dolorosus, are all your small neighbors hard +at work in committing to memory Scripture texts for a wager,--I have an +impression, however, that they call it a prize,--consisting of one +Bible? In my circle of society the excitement runs high. At any +tea-drinking, you may hear the ladies discussing the comparative points +and prospects of their various little Ellens and Harriets, with shrill +eagerness; while their husbands, on the other side of the room, are +debating the merits of Ethan Allen and Flora Temple, the famous +trotting-horses, who are soon expected to try their speed on our +"Agricultural Ground." Each horse, and each girl, appears to have +enthusiastic backers, though the Sunday-School excitement has the +advantage of lasting longer. From inquiry, I find the state of the field +to be about as follows:--Fanny Hastings, who won the prize last year, is +not to be entered for it again; she damaged her memory by the process, +her teacher tells me, so that she can now scarcely fix the simplest +lesson in her mind. Carry Blake had got up to five thousand verses, but +had such terrible headaches that her mother compelled her to stop, some +weeks ago; the texts have all vanished from her brain, but the headache +unfortunately still lingers. Nelly Sanborn has reached six thousand, +although her anxious father long since tried to buy her off by offering +her a new Bible twice as handsome as the prize one: but what did she +care for that? she said; she had handsome Bibles already, but she had no +intention of being beaten by Ella Prentiss. Poor child, we see no chance +for her; for Ella has it all her own way; she has made up a score of +seven thousand one hundred texts, and it is only three days to the fatal +Sunday. Between ourselves, I think Nelly does her work more fairly; for +Ella has a marvellous ingenuity in picking out easy verses, like Jack +Horner's plums, and valuing every sacred sentence, not by its subject, +but by its shortness. Still, she is bound to win. + +"How is her health this summer?" I asked her mother, the other day. + +"Well, her verses weigh on her," said the good woman, solemnly. + +And here I pledge you my word, Dolorosus, that to every one of these +statements I might append, as Miss Edgeworth does to every particularly +tough story,--"_N.B. This is a fact._" I will only add that our +Sunday-School Superintendent, who is a physician, told me that he had as +strong objections to the whole thing as I could have; but that it was no +use talking; all the other schools did it, and ours must; emulation was +the order of the day. "Besides," he added, with that sort of cheerful +hopelessness peculiar to his profession, "the boys are not trying for +the prize much, this year; and as for the girls, they would probably +lose their health very soon, at any rate, and may as well devote it to a +sacred cause." + +Do not misunderstand me. The supposed object in this case is a good one, +just as the object in week-day schools is a good one,--to communicate +valuable knowledge and develop the powers of the mind. The defect in +policy, in both cases, appears to be, that it totally defeats its own +aim, renders the employments hateful that should be delightful, and +sacrifices the whole powers, so far as its influence goes, without any +equivalent. All excess defeats itself. As a grown man can work more in +ten hours than in fifteen, taking a series of days together, so a child +can make more substantial mental progress in five hours daily than in +ten. Your child's mind is not an earthen jar, to be filled by pouring +into it; it is a delicate plant, to be wisely and healthfully reared; +and your wife might as well attempt to enrich her mignonette-bed by +laying a Greek Lexicon upon it as try to cultivate that young nature by +a topdressing of Encyclopaedias. I use the word on high authority. +"Courage, my boy!" wrote Lord Chatham to his son, "only the Encyclopaedia +to learn!"--and the cruel diseases of a lifetime repaid Pitt for the +forcing. I do not object to the severest _quality_ of study for boys or +girls;--while their brains work, let them work in earnest. But I do +object to this immoderate and terrific _quantity_. Cut down every +school, public and private, to five hours' total work _per diem_ for the +oldest children, and four for the younger ones, and they will accomplish +more in the end than you ever saw them do in six or seven. Only give +little enough at a time, and some freshness to do it with, and you may, +if you like, send Angelina to any school, and put her through the whole +programme of the last educational prospectus sent to me,--"Philology, +Pantology, Orthology, Aristology, and Linguistics." + +For what is the end to be desired? Is it to exhibit a prodigy, or to +rear a noble and symmetrical specimen of a human being? Because Socrates +taught that a boy who has learned to speak is not too small for the +sciences,--because Tiberius delivered his father's funeral oration at +the age of nine, and Marcus Aurelius put on the philosophic gown at +twelve, and Cicero wrote a treatise on the art of speaking at +thirteen,--because Lipsius is said to have composed a work the day he +was born, meaning, say the commentators, that he began a new life at the +age of ten,--because the learned Licetus, who was brought into the world +so feeble as to be baked up to maturity in an oven, sent forth from that +receptacle, like a loaf of bread, a treatise called +"Gonopsychanthropologia,"--is it, therefore, indispensably necessary, +Dolorosus, that all your pale little offspring shall imitate these? +Spare these innocents! it is not their fault that they are your +children,--so do not visit it upon them so severely. Turn, Angelina, +ever dear, and out of a little childish recreation we will yet extract a +great deal of maturer wisdom for you, if we can only bring this deluded +parent to his senses. + +To change the sweet privilege of childhood into weary days and restless +nights,--to darken its pure associations, which for many are the sole +light that ever brings them back from sin and despair to the heaven of +their infancy,--to banish those reveries of innocent fancy which even +noisy boyhood knows, and which are the appointed guardians of its purity +before conscience wakes,--to abolish its moments of priceless idleness, +saturated with sunshine, blissful, aimless moments, when every angel is +near,--to bring insanity, once the terrible prerogative of maturer life, +down into the summer region of childhood, with blight and ruin;--all +this is the work of our folly, Dolorosus, of our miserable ambition to +have our unconscious little ones begin, in their very infancy, the race +of desperate ambition, which has, we admit, exhausted prematurely the +lives of their parents. + +The worst danger of it is, that the moral is written at the end of the +fable, not the beginning. The organization in youth is so dangerously +elastic, that the result of these intellectual excesses is not seen +until years after. When some young girl incurs spinal disease for life +from some slight fall which she ought not to have felt for an hour, or +some businessman breaks down in the prime of his years from some +trifling over-anxiety which should have left no trace behind, the +popular verdict may be, "Mysterious Providence"; but the wiser observer +sees the retribution for the folly of those misspent days which +enfeebled the childish constitution, instead of ripening it. One of the +most admirable passages in the Report of Dr. Ray, already mentioned, is +that in which he explains, that, though hard study at school is rarely +the immediate cause of insanity, it is the most frequent of its ulterior +causes, except hereditary tendencies. "It diminishes the conservative +power of the animal economy to such a degree, that attacks of disease, +which otherwise would have passed off safely, destroy life almost before +danger is anticipated. Every intelligent physician understands, that, +other things being equal, the chances of recovery are far less in the +studious, highly intellectual child than in one of an opposite +description. The immediate mischief may have seemed slight, but the +brain is left in a condition of peculiar impressibility, which renders +it morbidly sensitive to every adverse influence." + +Indeed, here is precisely the weakness of our whole national training +thus far,--brilliant immediate results, instead of wise delays. The life +of the average American is a very hasty breakfast, a magnificent +luncheon, a dyspeptic dinner, and no supper. Our masculine energy is +like our feminine beauty, bright and evanescent. As enthusiastic +travellers inform us that there are in every American village a dozen, +girls of sixteen who are prettier than any English hamlet of the same +size can produce, so the same village undoubtedly possesses a dozen very +young men who, tried by the same standard, are "smarter" than their +English peers. Come again fifteen years after, when the Englishmen and +Englishwomen are reported to be just in their prime, and, lo! those +lovely girls are sallow old women, and the boys are worn-out men,--with +fire left in them, it may be, but fuel gone,--retired from active +business, very likely, and just waiting for consumption to carry them +off, as one waits for the omnibus. + +To say that this should be amended is to say little. Either it must be +amended, or the American race fails;--there is no middle ground. If we +fail, (which I do not expect, I assure you,) we fail disastrously. If we +succeed, if we bring up our vital and muscular developments into due +proportion with our nervous energy, we shall have a race of men and +women such as the world never saw. Dolorosus, when in the course of +human events you are next invited to give a Fourth-of-July Oration, +grasp at the opportunity, and take for your subject "Health." Tell your +audience, when you rise to the accustomed flowers of rhetoric as the day +wears on, that Health is the central luminary, of which all the stars +that spangle the proud flag of our common country are but satellites; +and close with a hint to the plumed emblem of our nation, (pointing to +the stuffed one which will probably be exhibited on the platform,) that +she should not henceforward confine her energies to the hatching of +short-lived eaglets, but endeavor rather to educate a few full-grown +birds. + +As I take it, Nature said, some years since,--"Thus far the English is +my best race; but we have had Englishmen enough; now for another turning +of the globe, and a step farther. We need something with a little more +buoyancy than the Englishman; let us lighten the ship, even at the risk +of a little peril in the process. Put in one drop more of nervous fluid +and make the American." With that drop, a new range of promise opened on +the human race, and a lighter, finer, more highly organized type of +mankind was born. But the promise must be fulfilled through unequalled +dangers. With the new drop came new intoxication, new ardors, passions, +ambitions, hopes, reactions, and despairs,--more daring, more invention, +more disease, more insanity,--forgetfulness, at first, of the old, +wholesome traditions of living, recklessness of sin and saleratus, loss +of refreshing sleep and of the power of play. To surmount all this, we +have got to fight the good fight, I assure you, Dolorosus. Nature is yet +pledged to produce that finer type, and if we miss it, she will leave us +to decay, like our predecessors,--whirl the globe over once more, and +choose a new place for a new experiment. + + + + +MY DOUBLE; AND HOW HE UNDID ME. + + +It is not often that I trouble the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly." I +should not trouble them now, but for the importunities of my wife, who +"feels to insist" that a duty to society is unfulfilled, till I have +told why I had to have a double, and how he undid me. She is sure, she +says, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure upon +public servants which alone drives any man into the employment of a +double. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that my +fortunes will never be remade, she has a faint hope, that, as another +Rasselas, I may teach a lesson to future publics, from which they may +profit, though we die. Owing to the behaviour of my double, or, if you +please, to that public pressure which compelled me to employ him, I have +plenty of leisure to write this communication. + +I am, or rather was, a minister, of the Sandemanian connection. I was +settled in the active, wide-awake town of Naguadavick, on one of the +finest water-powers in Maine. We used to call it a Western town in the +heart of the civilization of New England. A charming place it was and +is. A spirited, brave young parish had I; and it seemed as if we might +have all "the joy of eventful living" to our hearts' content. + +Alas! how little we knew on the day of my ordination, and in those +halcyon moments of our first housekeeping! To be the confidential friend +in a hundred families in the town,--cutting the social trifle, as my +friend Haliburton says, "from the top of the whipped-syllabub to the +bottom of the sponge-cake, which is the foundation,"--to keep abreast of +the thought of the age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sunday to +interweave that thought with the active life of an active town, and to +inspirit both and make both infinite by glimpses of the Eternal Glory, +seemed such an exquisite forelock into one's life! Enough to do, and all +so real and so grand! If this vision could only have lasted! + +The truth is, that this vision was not in itself a delusion, nor, +indeed, half bright enough. If one could only have been left to do his +own business, the vision would have accomplished itself and brought out +new paraheliacal visions, each as bright as the original. The misery was +and is, as we found out, I and Polly, before long, that, besides the +vision, and besides the usual human and finite failures in life, (such +as breaking the old pitcher that came over in the "Mayflower," and +putting into the fire the Alpenstock with which her father climbed Mont +Blanc,)--besides these, I say, (imitating the style of Robinson Crusoe,) +there were pitch-forked in on us a great rowen-heap of humbugs, banded +down from some unknown seed-time, in which we were expected, and I +chiefly, to fulfil certain public functions before the community, of the +character of those fulfilled by the third row of supernumeraries who +stand behind the Sepoys in the spectacle of the "Cataract of the +Ganges." They were the duties, in a word, which one performs as member +of one or another social class or subdivision, wholly distinct from what +one does as A. by himself A. What invisible power put these functions on +me, it would be very hard to tell. But such power there was and is. And +I had not been at work a year before I found I was living two lives, one +real and one merely functional,--for two sets of people, one my parish, +whom I loved, and the other a vague public, for whom I did not care two +straws. All this was in a vague notion, which everybody had and has, +that this second life would eventually bring out some great results, +unknown at present, to somebody somewhere. + +Crazed by this duality of life, I first read Dr. Wigan on the "Duality +of the Brain," hoping that I could train one side of my head to do these +outside jobs, and the other to do my intimate and real duties. For +Richard Greenough once told me, that, in studying for the statue of +Franklin, he found that the left side of the great man's face was +philosophic and reflective, and the right side funny and smiling. If you +will go and look at the bronze statue, you will find he has repeated +this observation there for posterity. The eastern profile is the +portrait of the statesman Franklin, the western of Poor Richard. But Dr. +Wigan does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I failed. It +was then, that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look out for a +Double. + +I was, at first, singularly successful. We happened to be recreating at +Stafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day, for one of the +relaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monsonpon House. We +were passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny was +fulfilled! I saw my man! + +He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green +baize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But I +saw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He had +black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He stooped in +walking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine. And--choicest gift of +Fate in all--he had, not "a strawberry-mark on his left arm," but a cut +from a juvenile brickbat over his right eye, slightly affecting the play +of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I!--My fate was sealed! + +A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole thing. +It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow, of the +class known as shiftless, who had scaled his fate by marrying a dumb +wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I left +Stafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to Judge +Pynchon, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the name of +Dennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. We had explained to the Judge, what was +the precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman wished to adopt Dennis +under this new name into his family. It never occurred to him that +Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to shorten this +preface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at Naguadavick, there +entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress, myself, who am Mr. Frederic +Ingham, and my double, who was Mr. Frederic Ingham by as good right as +I. + +Oh, the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my pattern, +cutting his hair to match mine, and teaching him how to wear and how to +take off gold-bowed spectacles! Really, they were electro-plate, and the +glass was plain (for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent). Then in +four successive afternoons I taught, him four speeches. I had found +these would be quite enough for the supernumerary-Sepoy line of life, +and it was well for me they were. For though he was good-natured, he was +very shiftless, and it was, as our national proverb says, "like pulling +teeth" to teach him. But at the end of the next week he could say, with +quite my easy and frisky air,-- + +1. "Very well, thank you. And you?" This for an answer to casual +salutations. + +2. "I am very glad you liked it." + +3. "There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time." + +4. "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of the room." + +At first I had a feeling that I was going to be at great cost for +clothing him. But it proved, of course, at once, that, whenever he was +out, I should be at home. And I went, during the bright period of his +success, to so few of those awful pageants which require a black +dress-coat and what the ungodly call, after Mr. Dickens, a white choker, +that in the happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and jackets my days +went by as happily and cheaply as those of another Thalaba. And Polly +declares there was never a year when the tailoring cost so little. He +lived (Dennis, not Thalaba) in his wife's room over the kitchen. He had +orders never to show himself at that window. When he appeared in the +front of the house, I retired to my sanctissimum and my dressing-gown. +In short, the Dutchman and his wife, in the old weather-box, had not +less to do with each other than he and I. He made the furnace-fire and +split the wood before daylight; then he went to sleep again, and slept +late; then came for orders, with a red silk bandanna tied round his +head, with his overalls on, and his dress-coat and spectacles off. If we +happened to be interrupted, no one guessed that he was Frederic Ingham +as well as I; and, in the neighborhood, there grew up an impression that +the minister's Irishman worked day-times in the factory-village at New +Coventry. After I had given him his orders, I never saw him till the +next day. + +I launched him by sending him to a meeting of the Enlightenment Board. +The Enlightenment Board consists of seventy-four members, of whom +sixty-seven are necessary to form a quorum. One becomes a member under +the regulations laid down in old Judge Dudley's will. I became one by +being ordained pastor of a church in Naguadavick. You see you cannot +help yourself, if you would. At this particular time we had had four +successive meetings, averaging four hours each,--wholly occupied in +whipping in a quorum. At the first only eleven men were present; at the +next, by force of three circulars, twenty-seven; at the third, thanks to +two days canvassing by Auchmuty and myself, begging men to come, we had +sixty. Half the others were In Europe. But without a quorum we could do +nothing. All the rest of us waited grimly for our four hours, and +adjourned without any action. At the fourth meeting we had flagged, and +only got fifty-nine together. But on the first appearance of my +double,--whom I sent on this fatal Monday to the fifth meeting,--he was +the sixty-seventh man who entered the room. He was greeted with a storm +of applause! The poor fellow had missed his way,--read the street signs +ill though his spectacles, (very ill, in fact, without them,)--and had +not dared to inquire. He entered the room,--finding the president and +secretary holding to their chairs two judges of the Supreme Court, who +were also members _ex officio_, and were begging leave to go away. On +his entrance all was changed. _Presto_, the by-laws were amended, and +the Western property was given away. Nobody stopped to converse with +him. He voted, as I had charged him to do, in every instance, with the +minority. I won new laurels as a man of sense, though a little +unpunctual,--and Dennis, _alias_ Ingham, returned to the parsonage, +astonished to see with how little wisdom the world is governed. He cut a +few of my parishioners in the street; but he had his glasses off, and I +am known to be near-sighted. Eventually he recognized them more readily +than I. + +I "set him again" at the exhibition of the New Coventry Academy; and +here he undertook a "speaking part,"--as, in my boyish, worldly days, I +remember the bills used to say of Mlle. Celeste. We are all trustees of +the New Coventry Academy; and there has lately been "a good deal of +feeling" because the Sandemanian trustees did not regularly attend the +exhibitions. It has been intimated, indeed, that the Sandemanians are +leaning towards Free-Will, and that we have, therefore, neglected these +semi-annual exhibitions, while there is no doubt that Auchmuty last year +went to Commencement at Waterville. Now the head master at New Coventry +is a real good fellow, who knows a Sanskrit root when he sees it, and +often cracks etymologies with me,--so that, in strictness, I ought to go +to their exhibitions. But think, reader, of sitting through three long +July days in that Academy chapel, following the programme from + + TUESDAY MORNING. _English Composition_. + "SUNSHINE." Miss Jones. + +round to + + Trio on Three Pianos. Duel from the Opera + of "Midshipman Easy." _Marryatt_. + +coming in at nine, Thursday evening! Think of this, reader, for men who +know the world is trying to go backward, and who would give their lives +if they could help it on! Well! The double had succeeded so well at the +Board, that I sent him to the Academy. (Shade of Plato, pardon!) He +arrived early on Tuesday, when, indeed, few but mothers and clergymen +are generally expected, and returned in the evening to us, covered with +honors. He had dined at the right hand of the chairman, and he spoke in +high terms of the repast. The chairman had expressed his interest in the +French conversation. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis; and the +poor chairman, abashed, supposed the accent had been wrong. At the end +of the day, the gentlemen present had been called upon for +speeches,--the Rev. Frederic Ingham first, as it happened; upon which +Dennis had risen, and had said, "There has been so much said, and, on +the whole, so well said, that I will not occupy the time." The girls +were delighted, because Dr. Dabney, the year before, had given them at +this occasion a scolding on impropriety of behavior at lyceum lectures. +They all declared Mr. Ingham was a love,--and _so_ handsome! (Dennis is +good-looking.) Three of them, with arms behind the others' waists, +followed him up to the wagon he rode home in; and a little girl with a +blue sash had been sent to give him a rosebud. After this _debut_ in +speaking, he went to the exhibition for two days more, to the mutual +satisfaction of all concerned. Indeed, Polly reported that he had +pronounced the trustees' dinners of a higher grade than those of the +parsonage. When the next term began, I found six of the Academy girls +had obtained permission to come across the river and attend our church. +But this arrangement did not long continue. + +After this he went to several Commencements for me, and ate the dinners +provided; he sat through three of our Quarterly Conventions for +me,--always voting judiciously, by the simple rule mentioned above, of +siding with the minority. And I, meanwhile, who had before been losing +caste among my friends, as holding myself aloof from the associations of +the body, began to rise in everybody's favor. "Ingham's a good +fellow,--always on hand"; "never talks much,--but does the right thing +at the right time"; "is not as unpunctual as he used to be,--he comes +early, and sits through to the end." "He has got over his old talkative +habit, too. I spoke to a friend of his about it once; and I think Ingham +took it kindly," etc., etc. + +This voting power of Dennis was particularly valuable at the quarterly +meetings of the Proprietors of the Naguadavick Ferry. My wife inherited +from her father some shares in that enterprise, which is not yet fully +developed, though it doubtless will become a very valuable property. The +law of Maine then forbade stockholders to appear by proxy at such +meetings. Polly disliked to go, not being, in fact, a "hens'-rights +hen," and transferred her stock to me. I, after going once, disliked it +more than she. But Dennis went to the next meeting, and liked it very +much. He said the armchairs were good, the collation good, and the free +rides to stockholders pleasant. He was a little frightened when they +first took him upon one of the ferry-boats, but after two or three +quarterly meetings he became quite brave. + +Thus far I never had any difficulty with him. Indeed, being of that type +which is called shiftless, he was only too happy to be told daily what +to do, and to be charged not to be forthputting or in any way original +in his discharge of that duty. He learned, however, to discriminate +between the lines of his life, and very much preferred these +stockholders' meetings and trustees' dinners and Commencement collations +to another set of occasions, from which he used to beg off most +piteously. Our excellent brother, Dr. Fillmore, had taken a notion at +this time that our Sandemanian churches needed more expression of mutual +sympathy. He insisted upon it that we were remiss. He said, that, if the +Bishop came to preach at Naguadavick, all the Episcopal clergy of the +neighborhood were present; if Dr. Pond came, all the Congregational +clergymen turned out to hear him; if Dr. Nichols, all the Unitarians; +and he thought we owed it to each other, that, whenever there was an +occasional service at a Sandemanian church, the other brethren should +all, if possible, attend. "It looked well," if nothing more. Now this +really meant that I had not been to hear one of Dr. Fillmore's lectures +on the Ethnology of Religion. He forgot that he did not hear one of my +course on the "Sandemanianism of Anselm." But I felt badly when he said +it; and afterwards I always made Dennis go to hear all the brethren +preach, when I was not preaching myself. This was what he took +exceptions to,--the only thing, as I said, which he ever did except to. +Now came the advantage of his long morning-nap, and of the green tea +with which Polly supplied the kitchen. But he would plead, so humbly, to +be let off, only from one or two! I never excepted him, however. I knew +the lectures were of value, and I thought it best he should be able to +keep the connection. + +Polly is more rash than I am, as the reader has observed in the outset +of this memoir. She risked Dennis one night under the eyes of her own +sex. Governor Gorges had always been very kind to us; and when he gave +his great annual party to the town, asked us. I confess I hated to go. I +was deep in the new volume of Pfeiffer's "Mystics," which Haliburton had +just sent me from Boston. "But how rude," said Polly, "not to return the +Governor's civility and Mrs. Gorges's, when they will be sure to ask why +you are away!" Still I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eve +and of Semiramis conjoined, let me off by saying, that, if I would go in +with her, and sustain the initial conversations with the Governor and +the ladies staying there, she would risk Dennis for the rest of the +evening. And that was just what we did. She took Dennis in training all +that afternoon, instructed him in fashionable conversation, cautioned +him against the temptations of the supper-table,--and at nine in the +evening he drove us all down in the carryall. I made the grand +star-_entree_ with Polly and the pretty Walton girls, who were staying +with us. We had put Dennis into a great rough top-coat, without his +glasses,--and the girls never dreamed, in the darkness, of looking at +him. He sat in the carriage, at the door, while we entered. I did the +agreeable to Mrs. Gorges, was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda,--I +complimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in the great case of +D'Aulnay _vs_. Laconia Mining Co.,--I stepped into the dressing-room for +a moment,--stepped out for another,--walked home, after a nod with +Dennis, and tying the horse to a pump;--and while I walked home, Mr. +Frederic Ingham, my double, stepped in through the library into the +Gorges's grand saloon. + +Oh! Polly died of laughing as she told me of it at midnight! And even +here, where I have to teach my hands to hew the beech for stakes to +fence our cave, she dies of laughing as she recalls it,--and says that +single occasion was worth all we have paid for it. Gallant Eve that she +is! She joined Dennis at the library-door, and in an instant presented +him to Dr. Ochterlong, from Baltimore, who was on a visit in town, and +was talking with her, as Dennis came in. "Mr. Ingham would like to hear +what you were telling us about your success among the German +population." And Dennis bowed and said, in spite of a scowl from Polly, +"I'm very glad you liked it." But Dr. Ochterlong did not observe, and +plunged into the tide of explanation, Dennis listening like a +prime-minister, and bowing like a mandarin,--which is, I suppose, the +same thing. Polly declared it was just like Haliburton's Latin +conversation with the Hungarian minister, of which he is very fond of +telling. "_Quaene sit historia Reformationis in Ungaria_?" quoth +Haliburton, after some thought. And his _confrere_ replied gallantly, +"_In seculo decimo tertio_," etc., etc., etc.; and from _decimo +tertio_[8] to the nineteenth century and a half lasted till the oysters +came. So was it that before Dr. Ochterlong came to the "success," or +near it, Governor Gorges came to Dennis and asked him to hand Mrs. +Jeffries down to supper, a request which he heard with great joy. + +Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, gay as a lark. Auchmuty came +to her "in pity for poor Ingham," who was so bored by the stupid +pundit,--and Auchmuty could not understand why I stood it so long. But +when Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could not resist standing +near them. He was a little flustered, till the sight of the eatables and +drinkables gave him the same Mercian courage which it gave Diggory. A +little excited then, he attempted one or two of his speeches to the +Judge's lady. But little he knew how hard it was to get in even a +_promptu_ there edgewise. "Very well, I thank you," said he, after the +eating elements were adjusted; "and you?" And then did not he have to +hear about the mumps, and the measles, and arnica, and belladonna, and +chamomile-flower, and dodecathem, till she changed oysters for +salad,--and then about the old practice and the new, and what her sister +said, and what her sister's friend said, and what the physician to her +sister's friend said, and then what was said by the brother of the +sister of the physician of the friend of her sister, exactly as if it +had been in Ollendorff? There was a moment's pause, as she declined +Champagne. "I am very glad you liked it," said Dennis again, which he +never should have said, but to one who complimented a sermon. "Oh! you +are so sharp, Mr. Ingham! No! I never drink any wine at all,--except +sometimes in summer a little currant spirits,--from our own currants, +you know. My own mother,--that is, I call her my own mother, because, +you know, I do not remember," etc., etc., etc.; till they came to the +candied orange at the end of the feast,--when Dennis, rather confused, +thought he must say something, and tried No. 4,--"I agree, in general, +with my friend the other side of the room,"--which he never should have +said but at a public meeting. But Mrs. Jeffries, who never listens +expecting to understand, caught him up instantly with, "Well, I'm sure +my husband returns the compliment; he always agrees with you,--though we +do worship with the Methodists;--but you know, Mr. Ingham," etc., etc., +etc., till the move was made up-stairs;--and as Dennis led her through +the hall, he was scarcely understood by any but Polly, as he said, +"There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I +will not occupy the time." + +His great resource the rest of the evening was, standing in the library, +carrying on animated conversations with one and another in much the same +way. Polly had initiated him in the mysteries of a discovery of mine, +that it is not necessary to finish your sentences in a crowd, but by a +sort of mumble, omitting sibilants and dentals. This, indeed, if your +words fail you, answers even in public extempore speech,--but better +where other talking is going on. Thus,--"We missed you at the Natural +History Society, Ingham." Ingham replies,--"I am very gligloglum, that +is, that you were mmmmm." By gradually dropping the voice, the +interlocutor is compelled to supply the answer. "Mrs. Ingham, I hope +your friend Augusta is better." Augusta has not been ill. Polly cannot +think of explaining, however, and answers,--"Thank you, Ma'am; she is +very rearason wewahwewoh," in lower and lower tones. And Mrs. +Throckmorton, who forgot the subject of which she spoke, as soon as she +asked the question, is quite satisfied. Dennis could see into the +card-room, and came to Polly to ask if he might not go and play +all-fours. But, of course, she sternly refused. At midnight they came +home delighted,--Polly, as I said, wild to tell me the story of victory; +only both the pretty Walton girls said,--"Cousin Frederic, you did not +come near me all the evening." + +We always called him Dennis at home, for convenience, though his real +name was Frederic Ingham, as I have explained. When the election-day +came round, however, I found that by some accident there was only one +Frederic Ingham's name on the voting-list; and, as I was quite busy that +day in writing some foreign letters to Halle, I thought I would forego +my privilege of suffrage, and stay quietly at home, telling Dennis that +he might use the record on the voting-list and vote. I gave him a +ticket, which I told him he might use, if he liked to. That was that +very sharp election in Maine which the readers of the "Atlantic" so well +remember, and it had been intimated in public that the ministers would +do well not to appear at the polls. Of course, after that, we had to +appear by self or proxy. Still, Naguadavick was not then a city, and +this standing in a double queue at town-meeting several hours to vote +was a bore of the first water; and so, when I found that there was but +one Frederic Ingham on the list, and that one of us must give up, I +staid at home and finished the letters, (which, indeed, procured for +Fothergill his coveted appointment of Professor of Astronomy at +Leavenworth,) and I gave Dennis, as we called him, the chance. Something +in the matter gave a good deal of popularity to the Frederic Ingham +name; and at the adjourned election, next week, Frederic Ingham was +chosen to the legislature. Whether this was I or Dennis, I never really +knew. My friends seemed to think it was I; but I felt, that, as Dennis +had done the popular thing, he was entitled to the honor; so I sent him +to Augusta when the time came, and he took the oaths. And a very +valuable member he made. They appointed him on the Committee on +Parishes; but I wrote a letter for him, resigning, on the ground that he +took an interest in our claim to the stumpage in the minister's +sixteenths of Gore A, next No. 7, in the 10th Range. He never made any +speeches, and always voted with the minority, which was what he was sent +to do. He made me and himself a great many good friends, some of whom I +did not afterwards recognize as quickly as Dennis did my parishioners. +On one or two occasions, when there was wood to saw at home, I kept him +at home; but I took those occasions to go to Augusta myself. Finding +myself often in his vacant seat at these times, I watched the +proceedings with a good deal of care; and once was so much excited that +I delivered my somewhat celebrated speech on the Central School-District +question, a speech of which the "State of Maine" printed some extra +copies. I believe there is no formal rule permitting strangers to speak; +but no one objected. + +Dennis himself, as I said, never spoke at all. But our experience this +session led me to think, that, if, by some such "general understanding" +as the reports speak of in legislation daily, every member of Congress +might leave a double to sit through those deadly sessions and answer to +roll-calls and do the legitimate party-voting, which appears stereotyped +in the regular list of Ashe, Bocock, Black, etc., we should gain +decidedly in working-power. As things stand, the saddest State prison I +ever visit is that Representatives' Chamber in Washington. If a man +leaves for an hour, twenty "correspondents" may be howling, "Where was +Mr. Pendergrast when the Oregon bill passed?" And if poor Pendergrast +stays there! Certainly, the worst use you can make of a man is to put +him in prison! + +I know, indeed, that public men of the highest rank have resorted to +this expedient long ago. Dumas's novel of the "Iron Mask" turns on the +brutal imprisonment of Louis the Fourteenth's double. There seems little +doubt, in our own history, that it was the real General Pierce who shed +tears when the delegate from Lawrence explained to him the sufferings of +the people there,--and only General Pierce's double who had given the +orders for the assault on that town, which was invaded the next day. My +charming friend, George Withers, has, I am almost sure, a double, who +preaches his afternoon sermons for him. This is the reason that the +theology often varies so from that of the forenoon. But that double is +almost as charming as the original. Some of the most well-defined men, +who stand out most prominently on the background of history, are in this +way stereoscopic men, who owe their distinct relief to the slight +differences between the doubles. All this I know. My present suggestion +is simply the great extension of the system, so that all public +machine-work may be done by it. + +But I see I loiter on my story, which is rushing to the plunge. Let me +stop an instant more, however, to recall, were it only to myself, that +charming year while all was yet well. After the double had become a +matter of course, for nearly twelve months before he undid me, what a +year it was! Full of active life, full of happy love, of the hardest +work, of the sweetest sleep, and the fulfilment of so many of the fresh +aspirations and dreams of boyhood! Dennis went to every school-committee +meeting, and sat through all those late wranglings which used to keep me +up till midnight and awake till morning. He attended all the lectures to +which foreign exiles sent me tickets begging me to come for the love of +Heaven and of Bohemia. He accepted and used all the tickets for charity +concerts which were sent to me. He appeared everywhere where it was +specially desirable that "our denomination," or "our party," or "our +class," or "our family," or "our street," or "our town," or "our +county," or "our State," should be fully represented. And I fell back to +that charming life which in boyhood one dreams of, when he supposes he +shall do his own duty and make his own sacrifices, without being tied up +with those of other people. My rusty Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, +Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, German, and English began to take +polish. Heavens! how little I had done with them while I attended to my +_public_ duties! My calls on my parishioners became the friendly, +frequent, homelike sociabilities they were meant to be, instead of the +hard work of a man goaded to desperation by the sight of his lists of +arrears. And preaching! what a luxury preaching was when I had on +Sunday the whole result of an individual, personal week, from which to +speak to a people whom all that week I had been meeting as hand-to-hand +friend! I never tired on Sunday, and was in condition to leave the +sermon at home, if I chose, and preach it extempore, as all men should +do always. Indeed, I wonder, when I think that a sensible people, like +ours,--really more attached to their clergy than they were in the lost +days, when the Mathers and Nortons were noblemen,--should choose to +neutralize so much of their ministers' lives, and destroy so much of +their early training, by this undefined passion for seeing them in +public. It springs from our balancing of sects. If a spirited +Episcopalian takes an interest in the alms-house, and is put on the Poor +Board, every other denomination must have a minister there, lest the +poor-house be changed into St. Paul's Cathedral. If a Sandemanian is +chosen president of the Young Men's Library, there must be a Methodist +vice-president and a Baptist secretary. And if a Universalist +Sunday-School Convention collects five hundred delegates, the next +Congregationalist Sabbath-School Conference must be as large, "lest +'they'--whoever _they_ may be--should think 'we'--whoever _we_ may +be--are going down." + +Freed from these necessities, that happy year, I began to know my wife +by sight. We saw each other sometimes. In those long mornings, when +Dennis was in the study explaining to map-peddlers that I had eleven +maps of Jerusalem already, and to school-book agents that I would see +them hanged before I would be bribed to introduce their textbooks into +the schools,--she and I were at work together, as in those old dreamy +days,--and in these of our log-cabin again. But all this could not +last,--and at length poor Dennis, my double, over-tasked in turn, undid +me. + +It was thus it happened.--There is an excellent fellow,--once a +minister,--I will call him Isaacs,--who deserves well of the world till +he dies, and after,--because he once, in, a real exigency, did the right +thing, in the right way, at the right time, as no other man could do it. +In the world's great football match, the ball by chance found him +loitering on the outside of the field; he closed with it, "camped" it, +charged it home,--yes, right through the other side,--not disturbed, not +frightened by his own success,--and breathless found himself a great +man,--as the Great Delta rang applause. But he did not find himself a +rich man; and the football has never come in his way again. From that +moment to this moment he has been of no use, that one can see, at all. +Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember him +kindly; and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewhere again. +In that vague hope, he had arranged a "movement" for a general +organization of the human family into Debating-Clubs, County Societies, +State Unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all children to take +hold of the handles of their knives and forks, instead of the metal. +Children have bad habits in that way. The movement, of course, was +absurd; but we all did our best to forward, not it, but him. It came +time for the annual county-meeting on this subject to be held at +Naguadavick. Isaacs came round, good fellow! to arrange for it,--got the +town-hall, got the Governor to preside, (the saint!--he ought to have +triplet doubles provided him by law,) and then came to get me to speak. +"No," I said, "I would not speak, if ten Governors presided. I do not +believe in the enterprise. If I spoke, it should be to say children +should take hold of the prongs of the forks and the blades of the +knives. I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill." So +poor Isaacs went his way, sadly, to coax Auchmuty to speak, and +Delafield. I went out. Not long after, he came back, and told Polly that +they had promised to speak,--the Governor would speak,--and he himself +would close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotes +regarding Miss Biffin's way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis's way +of footing his fork. "Now if Mr. Ingham will only come and sit on the +platform, he need not say one word; but it will show well in the +paper,--it will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in the +movement as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians, and will be a great +favor to me." Polly, good soul! was tempted, and she promised. She knew +Mrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies,--she knew Dennis was at +home,--and she promised! Night came, and I returned. I heard her story. +I was sorry. I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, and I dared +all! I told Dennis to hold his peace, under all circumstances, and sent +him down. + +It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild with +excitement,--in a perfect Irish fury,--which it was long before I +understood. But I knew at once that he had undone me! + +What happened was this.--The audience got together, attracted by +Governor Gorges's name. There were a thousand people. Poor Gorges was +late from Augusta. They became impatient. He came in direct from the +train at last, really ignorant of the object of the meeting. He opened +it in the fewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present +who would entertain them better than he. The audience were disappointed, +but waited. The Governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, "The Honorable Mr. +Delafield will address you." Delafield had forgotten the knives and +forks, and was playing the Ruy Lopez opening at the chess-club. "The +Rev. Mr. Auchmuty will address you." Auchmuty had promised to speak +late, and was at the school-committee. "I see Dr. Stearns in the hall; +perhaps he will say a word." Dr. Stearns said he had come to listen and +not to speak. The Governor and Isaacs whispered. The Governor looked at +Dennis, who was resplendent on the platform; but Isaacs, to give him his +due, shook his head. But the look was enough. A miserable lad, ill-bred, +who had once been in Boston, thought it would sound well to call for me, +and peeped out, "Ingham!" A few more wretches cried, "Ingham! Ingham!" +Still Isaacs was firm; but the Governor, anxious, indeed, to prevent a +row, knew I would say something, and said, "Our friend Mr. Ingham is +always prepared,--and though we had not relied upon him, he will say a +word, perhaps." Applause followed, which turned Dennis's head. He rose, +fluttered, and tried No. 3: "There has been so much said, and, on the +whole, so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!" and sat +down, looking for his hat; for things seemed squally. But the people +cried, "Go on! go on!" and some applauded. Dennis, still confused, but +flattered by the applause, to which neither he nor I are used, rose +again, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you liked it!" in a +sonorous, clear delivery. My best friends stared. All the people who did +not know me personally yelled with delight at the aspect of the evening; +the Governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs thought he was undone! +Alas, it was I! A boy in the gallery cried in a loud tone, "It's all an +infernal humbug," just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, +and tried No. 4: "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of +the room." The poor Governor doubted his senses, and crossed to stop +him,--not in time, however. The same gallery-boy shouted, "How's your +mother?"--and Dennis, now completely lost, tried, as his last shot, No. +1, vainly: "Very well, thank you; and you?" + +I think I must have been undone already. But Dennis, like another +Lockhard, chose "to make sicker." The audience rose in a whirl of +amazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other impertinence, aimed at Dennis, +broke all restraint, and, in pure Irish, he delivered himself of an +address to the gallery, inviting any person who wished to fight to come +down and do so,--stating, that they were all dogs and cowards and the +sons of dogs and cowards,--that he would take any five of them +single-handed. "Shure, I have said all his Riverence and the Misthress +bade me say," cried he, in defiance; and, seizing the Governor's cane +from his hand, brandished it, quarterstaff fashion, above his head. He +was, indeed, got from the hall only with the greatest difficulty by the +Governor, the City Marshal, who had been called in, and the +Superintendent of my Sunday-School. + +The universal impression, of course, was, that the Rev. Frederic Ingham +had lost all command of himself in some of those haunts of intoxication +which for fifteen years I have been laboring to destroy. Till this +moment, indeed, that is the impression in Naguadavick. This number of +the "Atlantic" will relieve from it a hundred friends of mine who have +been sadly wounded by that notion now for years;--but I shall not be +likely ever to show my head there again. + +No! My double has undone me. + +We left town at seven the next morning. I came to No. 9, in the Third +Range, and settled on the Minister's Lot. In the new towns in Maine, the +first settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land. I am the +first settled minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina are my +parish. We raise corn enough to live on in summer. We kill bear's meat +enough to carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on my "Traces of +Sandemanianism in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries," which I hope to +persuade Phillips, Sampson, & Co. to publish next year. We are very +happy, but the world thinks we are undone. + + +[8] Which means, "In the thirteenth century," my dear little +bell-and-coral reader. You have rightly guessed that the question means, +"What is the history of the Reformation in Hungary?" + + + + +THE SINGER. + + +A star into our twilight fell, + 'Mong peasant homes in vales remote; +Men marvelled not till all the dell + Was waked as by a bugle-note. + +They wondered at the wild-eyed boy, + And drank his song like draughts of wine; +And yet, amid their new-born joy, + They bade him tend the herds and swine. + +But he knew neither swine nor herds,-- + His shepherd soul was otherwhere; +The flocks he tended were the birds, + And stars that fill the folds of air. + +To sweeter song the wind would melt + That fanned him with its perfumed wing; +Flowers thronged his path as if they felt + The warm and flashing feet of Spring. + +The brooklet flung its ringlets wide, + And leapt to him, and kept his pace,-- +Sang when he sang, and when he sighed, + Turned up to him its starry face. + +Through many a dawn and noon and night, + The singing boy still kept his course; +For in his heart that meteor light + Still burned with all its natal force. + +He sang,--nor cherished thought of care,-- + As when, upon the garden-vine, +A blue-bird thrills the April air, + Regardless of the herds and swine. + +The children in their May-time plays, + The maidens in their rosy hours, +And matrons in their autumn days, + All heard and flung him praise or flowers. + +And Age, to chimney-nooks beguiled, + Caught the sweet music's tender closes, +And, gazing on the embers, smiled + As on a bed of summer roses. + +And many a heart, by hope forsook, + Received his song through depths of pain, +As the dry channels of a brook + The freshness of a summer rain. + +But when he looked for house or bread, + The stewards of earth's oil and wine +Shook sternly the reproving head, + And bade him tend the herds and swine! + +He strayed into the harvest plains, + And 'mid the sultry windrows sung, +Till glowing girls and swarthy swains + Caught music from his charmed tongue,-- + +Caught music that from heart to brain + Went thrilling with delicious measure, +Till toil, which late had seemed a pain, + Became a sweet Arcadian pleasure. + +The farmer, at the day's decline, + Sat listening till the eve was late; +Then, offering neither bread nor wine, + Arose, and barred the outer gate,-- + +And said, "Would you have where to sleep + On wholesome straw, good brother mine, +You need but plow, and sow, and reap, + And daily tend the herds and swine." + +The poet's locks shook out reply; + He turned him gayly down the rill; +Yet left a light which shall not die, + A sunshine on the farmer's sill. + +He strewed the vale with flowers of song; + He filled the homes with lighter grace, +Which round those hearth-stones lingered long, + And still makes beautiful the place. + +The country, hamlet, and the town + Grew wiser, better, for his songs;-- +The roaring city could not drown + The voice that to the world belongs. + +To beds of pain, to rooms of death, + The soft and solemn music stole, +And soothed the dying with its breath, + And passed into the mourner's soul. + +And yet what was the poet's meed? + Such, Bard of Alloway, was thine! +The soul that sings, the heart must bleed, + Or tend the common herds and swine. + +The nation heard his patriot lays, + And rung them, like an anthem, round, +Till Freedom waved her branch of bays, + Wherewith the world shall yet be crowned. + +His war-songs fired the battle-host, + His mottoes on their banners burned; +And when the foe had fled the coast, + Wild with his songs the troops returned. + +Then at the feast's triumphal board, + His thrilling music cheered the wine;-- +But when the singer asked reward, + They pointed to the herds and swine. + +"What! he a bard? Then bid him go + And beg,--it is the poet's trade! +Dan Homer was the first to show + The rank for which the bards were made! + +"A living bard! What's he to us? + A bard, to live, must first be dead! +And when he dies, we may discuss + To whom belongs the poet's head!" + +'Neath suns that burn, through storms that drench, + He went, an outcast from his birth, +Still singing,--for they could not quench + The fire that was not born of earth. + +At last, behind cold prison-bars, + By colder natures unforgiven, +His frail dust starved! but 'mid the stars + His spirit found its native heaven. + +Now, when a meteor-spark, forlorn, + Descends upon its fiery wing, +I sigh to think a soul is born, + Perchance, to suffer and to sing:-- + +Its own heart a consuming pyre + Of flame, to brighten and refine:-- +A singer, in the starry choir, + That will not tend the herds and swine. + + + + +THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +WHAT HE SAID, WHAT HE HEARD, AND WHAT HE SAW. + + +One of our boarders--perhaps more than one was concerned in it--sent in +some questions to me, the other day, which, trivial as some of them are, +I felt bound to answer. + +1.--Whether a lady was ever known to write a letter covering only a +single page? + +To this I answered, that there was a case on record where a lady had but +half a sheet of paper and no envelope; and being obliged to send through +the post-office, she _covered_ only one side of the paper (crosswise, +lengthwise, and diagonally). + +2.--What constitutes a man a gentleman? + +To this I gave several answers, adapted to particular classes of +questions. + +a. Not trying to be a gentleman. + +b. Self-respect underlying courtesy. + +c. Knowledge and observance of the _fitness of things_ in social +intercourse. + +d. L. _s.d._ (as many suppose.) + +3.--Whether face or figure is most attractive in the female sex? + +Answered in the following epigram, by a young man about town:-- + + Quoth Tom, "Though fair her features be, + it is her figure pleases me." + "What may her figure be?" I cried. + "_One hundred thousand_!" he replied. + +When this was read to the boarders, the young man John said he should +like a chance to "step up" to a figger of that kind, if the girl was one +of the right sort. + +The landlady said them that merried for money didn't deserve the +blessin' of a good wife. Money was a great thing when them that had it +made a good use of it. She had seen better days herself, and knew what +it was never to want for anything. One of her cousins merried a very +rich old gentleman, and she had heerd that he said he lived ten year +longer than if he'd staid by himself without anybody to take care of +him. There was nothin' like a wife for nussin' sick folks and them that +couldn't take care of themselves. + +The young man John got off a little wink, and pointed slyly with his +thumb in the direction of our diminutive friend, for whom he seemed to +think this speech was intended. + +If it was meant for him, he didn't appear to know that it was. Indeed, +he seems somewhat listless of late, except when the conversation falls +upon one of those larger topics that specially interest him, and then he +grows excited, speaks loud and fast, sometimes almost savagely,--and, I +have noticed once or twice, presses his left hand to his right side, as +if there were something that ached, or weighed, or throbbed in that +region. + +While he speaks in this way, the general conversation is interrupted, +and we all listen to him. Iris looks steadily in his face, and then he +will turn as if magnetized and meet the amber eyes with his own +melancholy gaze. I do believe that they have some kind of understanding +together, that they meet elsewhere than at our table, and that there is +a mystery, which is going to break upon us all of a sudden, involving +the relations of these two persons. From the very first, they have taken +to each other. The one thing they have in common is the heroic will. In +him, it shows itself in thinking his way straightforward, in doing +battle for "free trade and no right of search" on the high seas of +religious controversy, and especially in fighting the battles of his +crooked old city. In her, it is standing up for her little friend with +the most queenly disregard of the code of boarding-house etiquette. +People may say or look what they like,--she will have her way about this +sentiment of hers. + +The poor relation is in a dreadful fidget whenever the little gentleman +says anything that interferes with her own infallibility. She seems to +think Faith must go with her face tied up, as if she had the +toothache,--and that if she opens her mouth to the quarter the wind +blows from, she will catch her "death o' cold." + +The landlady herself came to him one day, as I have found out, and tried +to persuade him to hold his tongue.--The boarders was gettin' +uneasy,--she said,--and some of 'em would go, she mistrusted, if he +talked any more about things that belonged to the ministers to settle. +She was a poor woman, that had known better days, but all her livin' +depended on her boarders, and she was sure there wasn't any of 'em she +set so much by as she did by him; but there was them that never liked to +hear about such things, except on Sundays. + +The little gentleman looked very smiling at the landlady, who smiled +even more cordially in return, and adjusted her cap-ribbon with an +unconscious movement,--a reminiscence of the long-past pairing-time, +when she had smoothed her locks and softened her voice, and won her mate +by these and other bird-like graces.--My dear Madam,--he said,--I will +remember your interests, and speak only of matters to which I am totally +indifferent.--I don't doubt he meant this; but a day or two after, +something stirred him up, and I heard his voice uttering itself aloud, +thus:-- + +--It must be done, Sir!--he was saying,--it must be done! Our religion +has been Judaized, it has been Romanized, it has been Orientalized, it +has been Anglicized, and the time is at hand when it must be +AMERICANIZED! Now, Sir, you see what Americanizing is in politics;--it +means that a man shall have a vote because he is a man,--and shall vote +for whom he pleases, without his neighbor's interference. If he chooses +to vote for the Devil, that is his lookout;--perhaps he thinks the Devil +is better than the other candidates; and I don't doubt he's often right, +Sir! Just so a man's soul has a vote in the spiritual community; and it +doesn't do, Sir, or it won't do long, to call him "schismatic" and +"heretic" and those other wicked names that the old murderous +Inquisitors have left us to help along "peace and good-will to men"! + +As long as you could catch a man and drop him into an _oubliette_, or +pull him out a few inches longer by machinery, or put a hot iron through +his tongue, or make him climb up a ladder and sit on a board at the top +of a stake so that he should be slowly broiled by the fire kindled round +it, there was some sense in these words; they led to something. But +since we have done with those tools, we had better give up those words. +I should like to see a Yankee advertisement like this!--(the little +gentleman laughed fiercely as he uttered the words,--) + +--Patent thumb-screws, warranted to crush the bone in three turns. + +--The cast-iron boot, with wedge and mallet,--only five dollars! + +--The celebrated extension-rack, warranted to stretch a man six inches +in twenty minutes,--money returned, if it proves unsatisfactory. + +I should like to see such an advertisement, I say, Sir! Now, what's the +use of using the words that belonged with the thumb-screws, and the +Blessed Virgin with the knives under her petticoats and sleeves and +bodice, and the _dry pan and gradual fire_, if we can't have the things +themselves, Sir? What's the use of _painting_ the fire round a poor +fellow, when you think it won't do to kindle one under him,--as they did +at Valencia or Valladolid, or wherever it was? + +--What story is that?--I said. + +Why,--he answered,--at the last _auto-da-fe_, in 1824 or '5, or +somewhere there,--it's a traveller's story, but a mighty knowing +traveller he is,--they had a "heretic" to use up according to the +statutes provided for the crime of private opinion. They couldn't quite +make up their minds to burn him, so they only _hung_ him in a hogshead +painted all over with flames! + +No, Sir! when a man calls you names because you go to the ballot-box and +vote for your candidate, or because you say this or that is your +opinion, he forgets in which half of the world he was born, Sir! It +won't be long, Sir, before we have Americanized religion as we have +Americanized government; and then, Sir, every soul God sends into the +world will be good in the face of all men for just so much of His +"inspiration" as "giveth him understanding"!--None of my words, Sir! +none of my words! + +--If Iris does not love this little gentleman, what does love look like +when one sees it? She follows him with her eyes, she leans over toward +him when he speaks, her face changes with the changes of his speech, so +that one might think it was with her as with Christabel,-- + + That all her features were resigned + To this sole image in her mind. + +But she never looks at him with such intensity of devotion as when he +says anything about the soul and the soul's atmosphere, religion. + +Women are twice as religious as men;--all the world knows that. Whether +they are any _better_, in the eyes of Absolute Justice, might be +questioned; for the additional religious element supplied by sex hardly +seems to be a matter of praise or blame. But in all common aspects they +are so much above us that we get most of our religion from them,--from +their teachings, from their example,--above all, from their pure +affections. + +Now this poor little Iris had been talked to strangely in her childhood. +Especially she had been told that she hated all good things,--which +every sensible parent knows well enough is not true of a great many +children, to say the least. I have sometimes questioned whether many +libels on human nature had not been a natural consequence of the +celibacy of the clergy, which was enforced for so long a period. + +The child had met this and some other equally encouraging statements as +to her spiritual conditions, early in life, and fought the battle of +spiritual independence prematurely, as many children do. If all she did +was hateful to God, what was the meaning of the approving or else the +disapproving conscience, when she had done "right" or "wrong"? No +"shoulder-striker" hits out straighter than a child with its logic. Why, +I can remember lying in my bed in the nursery and settling questions +which all that I have heard since and got out of books has never been +able to raise again. If a child does not assert itself in this way in +good season, it becomes just what its parents or teachers were, and is +no better than a plaster image.--How old was I at the time? I suppose +about 5823 years old,--that is, counting from Archbishop Usher's date of +the Creation, and adding the life of the race, whose accumulated +intelligence is a part of my inheritance, to my own. A good deal older +than Plato, you see, and much more experienced than my Lord Bacon and +most of the world's teachers.--Old books are books of the world's youth, +and new books are fruits of its age. How many of all these old folios +round me are like so many old cupels! The gold has passed out of them +long ago, but their pores are full of the dross with which it was +mingled. + +And so Iris--having thrown off that first lasso, which not only fetters, +but _chokes_ those whom it can hold, so that they give themselves up +trembling and breathless to the great soul-subduer, who has them by the +windpipe--had settled a brief creed for herself, in which love of the +neighbor, whom we have seen, was the first article, and love of the +Creator, whom we have not seen, grew out of this as its natural +development, being necessarily second in order of time to the first +unselfish emotions which we feel for the fellow-creatures who surround +us in our early years. + +The child must have some place to worship. What would a young girl be +who never mingled her voice with the songs and prayers that rose all +around her with every returning day of rest? And Iris was free to +choose. Sometimes one and sometimes another would offer to carry her to +this or that place of worship; and when the doors were hospitably +opened, she would often go meekly in by herself. It was a curious fact, +that two churches as remote from each other in doctrine as could well be +divided her affections. + +The Church of Saint Polycarp had very much the look of a Roman Catholic +chapel. I do not wish to run the risk of giving names to the +ecclesiastical furniture which gave it such a Romish aspect; but there +were pictures, and inscriptions in antiquated characters, and there were +reading-stands, and flowers on the altar, and other elegant +arrangements. Then there were boys to sing alternately in choirs +responsive to each other, and there was much bowing, with very loud +responding, and a long service and a short sermon, and a bag, such as +Judas used to hold in the old pictures, was carried round to receive +contributions. Everything was done not only "decently and in order," +but, perhaps one might say, with a certain air of magnifying their +office on the part of the dignified clergymen, often two or three in +number. The music and the free welcome were grateful to Iris, and she +forgot her prejudices at the door of the chapel. For this was a church +with open doors, with seats for all classes and all colors alike,--a +church of zealous worshippers after their faith, of charitable and +serviceable men and women, one that took care of its children and never +forgot its poor, and whose people were much more occupied in looking out +for their own souls than in attacking the faith of their neighbors. In +its mode of worship there was a union of two qualities,--the taste and +refinement, which the educated require just as much in their churches as +else where, and the air of stateliness, almost of pomp, which impresses +the common worshipper, and is often not without its effect upon those +who think they hold outward forms as of little value. Under the +half-Romish aspect of the Church of Saint Polycarp, the young girl found +a devout and loving and singularly cheerful religious spirit. The +artistic sense, which betrayed itself in the dramatic proprieties of its +ritual, harmonized with her taste. The mingled murmur of the loud +responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so simple, yet so fervent, almost +as if every tenth heartbeat, instead of its dull _tic-tac_, articulated +itself as "Good Lord, deliver us!"--the sweet alternation of the two +choirs, as their holy song floated from side to side,--the keen young +voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that passes from one grove +to another, carrying its music with it back and forward,--why should she +not love these gracious outward signs of those inner harmonies which +none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of her +fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint +Polycarp? + +The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had +introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of +our boarders as were not otherwise provided for. I saw them looking over +the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two +such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety +for a great while. But they seemed to mind nothing but their +prayer-book. By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.--I don't believe +she will;--so awkward, you know;--besides, she only came by invitation. +There she is, with her hand in her pocket, though,--and sure enough, her +little bit of silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath. God bless +her! she hasn't much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, +and that is all Heaven asks.--That was the first time I noticed these +young people together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming +propriety,--in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with +them, whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good +behavior. A day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had +left his seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that +of Iris, so that they have been as far removed from each other as they +could be at the table. His new seat is three or four places farther down +the table. Of course I made a romance out of this, at once. So stupid +not to see it! How could it be otherwise?--Did you speak, Madam? I beg +your pardon. (To my lady-reader.) + +I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl +treats her little deformed neighbor. If he were in the way of going to +church, I know she would follow him. But his worship, if any, is not +with the throng of men and women and staring children. + +I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer. I should +go for various reasons, if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to +find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can +accept all their creeds or not. One place of worship comes nearer than +the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our +young girl. + +The Church of the Galileans, as it is called, is even humbler in outside +pretensions than the Church of Saint Polycarp. Like that, it is open to +all comers. The stranger who approaches it looks down a quiet street and +sees the plainest of chapels,--a kind of wooden tent, that owes whatever +grace it has to its pointed windows and the high, sharp roof,--traces, +both, of that upward movement of ecclesiastical architecture which +soared aloft in cathedral-spires, shooting into the sky as the spike of +a flowering aloe from the cluster of broad, sharp-wedged leaves below. +This suggestion of mediaeval symbolism, aided by a minute turret in which +a hand-bell might have hung and found just room enough to turn over, was +all of outward show the small edifice could boast. Within there was very +little that pretended to be attractive. A small organ at one side, and a +plain pulpit, showed that the building was a church; but it was a church +reduced to its simplest expression. + +Yet when the great and wise monarch of the East sat upon his throne, in +all the golden blaze of the spoils of Ophir and the freights of the navy +of Tarshish, his glory was not like that of this simple chapel in its +Sunday garniture. For the lilies of the field, in their season, and the +fairest flowers of the year, in due succession, were clustered every +Sunday morning over the preacher's desk. Slight, thin-tissued blossoms +of pink and blue and virgin white in early spring, then the +full-breasted and deep-hearted roses of summer, then the velvet-robed +crimson and yellow flowers of autumn, and in the winter delicate exotics +that grew under skies of glass in the false summers of our crystal +palaces without knowing that it was the dreadful winter of New England +which was rattling the doors and frosting the panes,--the whole year +told its history of life and growth and beauty from that simple desk. +There was always at least one good sermon,--this floral homily. There +was at least one good prayer,--that brief space when all were silent, +after the manner of the Friends at their devotions. + +Here, too, Iris found an atmosphere of peace and love. The same gentle, +thoughtful faces, the same cheerful but reverential spirit, the same +quiet, the same life of active benevolence. But in all else how +different from the Church of Saint Polycarp! No clerical costume, no +ceremonial forms, no carefully trained choirs. A liturgy they have, to +be sure, which does not scruple to borrow from the time-honored manuals +of devotion, but also does not hesitate to change its expressions to its +own liking. + +Perhaps the good people seem a little easy with each other;--they are +apt to nod cheerfully, and have even been known to whisper before the +minister came in. But it is a relief to get rid of that old +Sunday--no,--_Sabbath_ face, which suggests the idea that the first day +of the week is commemorative of some most mournful event. The truth is, +these people meet very much as a family does for its devotions, not +putting off their humanity in the least, considering it on the whole +quite a cheerful matter to come together for prayer and song and good +counsel from kind and wise lips. And if they are freer in their demeanor +than some very precise congregations, they have not the air of a worldly +set of people. Clearly they have _not_ come to advertise their tailors +and milliners, nor for the sake of exchanging criticisms on the literary +character of the sermon they may hear. There is no restlessness and no +restraint among this quiet, cheerful people. One thing that keeps them +calm and happy during the season so evidently trying to many +congregations is, that they join very generally in the singing. In this +way they get rid of that accumulated nervous force which escapes in all +sorts of fidgety movements, so that a minister trying to keep his +congregation still reminds one of a boy with his hand over the nose of a +pump which another boy is working,--this spirting impatience of the +people is so like the jets that find their way through his fingers, and +the grand rush out at the final Amen! has such a wonderful likeness to +the gush that takes place when the boy pulls his hand away, with such +immense relief, as it seems, to both the pump and the officiating +youngster. + +How sweet is this blending of all voices and all hearts in one common +song of praise! Some will sing a little loud, perhaps,--and now and then +an impatient chorister will get a syllable or two in advance, or an +enchanted singer so lose all thought of time and place in the luxury of +a closing cadence that he holds on to the last semibreve upon his +private responsibility; but how much more of the spirit of the old +Psalmist in the music of these imperfectly trained voices than in the +academic niceties of the paid performers who take our musical worship +out of our hands! + +I am of the opinion that the creed of the Church of the Galileans is not +quite so precisely laid down as that of the Church of Saint Polycarp. +Yet I suspect, if one of the good people from each of those churches had +met over the bed of a suffering fellow-creature, or for the promotion of +any charitable object, they would have found they had more in common +than all the special beliefs or want of beliefs that separated them +would amount to. There are always many who believe that the fruits of a +tree afford a better test of its condition than a statement of the +composts with which it is dressed,--though the last has its meaning and +importance, no doubt. + +Between these two churches, then, our young Iris divides her affections. +But I doubt if she listens to the preacher at either with more devotion +than she does to her little neighbor when he talks of these matters. + +What does he believe? In the first place, there is some deep-rooted +disquiet lying at the bottom of his soul, which makes him very bitter +against all kinds of usurpation over the right of private judgment. Over +this seems to lie a certain tenderness for humanity in general, bred out +of life-long trial, I should say, but sharply streaked with fiery lines +of wrath at various individual acts of wrong, especially if they come in +an ecclesiastical shape, and recall to him the days when his mother's +great-grandmother was strangled on Witch Hill, with a text from the Old +Testament for her halter. With all this, he has a boundless belief in +the future of this experimental hemisphere, and especially in the +destiny of the free thought of its northeastern metropolis. + +--A man can see further, Sir,--he said one day,--from the top of Boston +State-House, and see more that is worth seeing, than from all the +pyramids and turrets and steeples in all the places in the world! No +smoke, Sir; no fog, Sir; and a clean sweep from the Outer Light and the +sea beyond it to the New Hampshire mountains! Yes, Sir,--and there are +great truths that are higher than mountains and broader than seas, that +people are looking for from the tops of these hills of ours,--such as +the world never saw, though it might have seen them at Jerusalem, if its +eyes had been open!--Where do they have most crazy people? Tell me that, +Sir! + +I answered, that I had heard it said there were more in New England than +in most countries, perhaps more than in any part of the world. + +Very good. Sir,--he answered.--When have there been most people killed +and wounded in the course of this century? + +During the wars of the French Empire, no doubt,--I said. + +That's it! that's it!--said the little gentleman;--where the battle of +intelligence is fought, there are most minds bruised and broken! We're +battling for a faith here, Sir. + +The divinity-student remarked, that it was rather late in the world's +history for men to be looking out for a new faith. + +I didn't say a new faith,--said the little gentleman;--old or new, it +can't help being different here in this American mind of ours from +anything that ever was before; the _people_ are new, Sir, and that makes +the difference. One load of corn goes to the sty, and makes the fat of +swine,--another goes to the farm-house, and becomes the muscle that +clothes the right arms of heroes. It isn't where a pawn stands on the +board that makes the difference, but what the game round it is when it +is on this or that square. + +Can any man look round and see what Christian countries are now doing, +and how they are governed, and what is the general condition of society, +without seeing that Christianity is the flag under which the world +sails, and not the rudder that steers its course? No, Sir! There was a +great raft built about two thousand years ago,--call it an ark, +rather,--the world's great ark! big enough to hold all mankind, and made +to be launched right out into the open waves of life,--and here it has +been lying, one end on the shore and one end bobbing up and down in the +water, men fighting all the time as to who should be captain and who +should have the state-rooms, and throwing each other over the side +because they could not agree about the points of compass, but the great +vessel never gelling afloat with its freight of nations and their +rulers;--and now, Sir, there is and has been for this long time a fleet +of "heretic" lighters sailing out of Boston Bay, and they have been +saying, and they say now, and they mean to keep saying, "Pump out your +bilge-water, shovel over your loads of idle ballast, get out your old +rotten cargo, and we will carry it out into deep waters and sink it +where it will never be seen again; so shall the ark of the world's hope +float on the ocean, instead of sticking in the dock-mud where it is +lying!" + +It's a slow business, this of getting the ark launched. The Jordan +wasn't deep enough, and the Tiber wasn't deep enough, and the Rhone +wasn't deep enough, and the Thames wasn't deep enough,--and perhaps the +Charles isn't deep enough; but I don't feel sure of that, Sir, and I +love to hear the workmen knocking at the old blocks of tradition and +making the ways smooth with the oil of the Good Samaritan. I don't know, +Sir,--but I do think she stirs a little,--I do believe she slides;--and +when I think of what a work that is for the dear old three-breasted +mother of American liberty, I would not take all the glory of all the +greatest cities in the world for my birthright in the soil of little +Boston! + +--Some of us could not help smiling at this burst of local patriotism, +especially when it finished with the last two words. + +And Iris smiled, too. But it was the radiant smile of pleasure which +always lights up her face when her little neighbor gets excited on the +great topics of progress in freedom and religion, and especially on the +part which, as he pleases himself with believing, his own city is to +take in that consummation of human development to which he looks +forward. + +Presently she looked into his face with a changed expression,--the +anxiety of a mother that sees her child suffering. + +You are not well,--she said. + +I am never well,--he answered.--His eyes fell mechanically on the +death's-head ring he wore on his right hand. She took his hand as if it +had been a baby's, and turned the grim device so that it should be out +of sight. One slight, sad, slow movement of the head seemed to say, "The +death-symbol is still there!" + +A very odd personage, to be sure! Seems to know what is going on,--reads +books, old and new,--has many recent publications sent him, they tell +me,--but, what is more curious, keeps up with the every-day affairs of +the world, too. Whether he hears everything that is said with +preternatural acuteness, or whether some confidential friend visits him +in a quiet way, is more than I can tell. I can make nothing more of the +noises I hear in his room than my old conjectures. The movements I +mention are less frequent, but I often hear the plaintive cry,--I +observe that it is rarely laughing of late;--I never have detected one +articulate word, but I never heard such tones from anything but a human +voice. + +There has been, of late, a deference approaching to tenderness, on the +part of the boarders generally, so far as he is concerned. This is +doubtless owing to the air of suffering which seems to have saddened his +look of late. Either some passion is gnawing at him inwardly, or some +hidden disease is at work upon him. + +--What's the matter with Little Boston?--said the young man John to me +one day.--There a'n't much of him, anyhow; but 't seems to me he looks +peakeder than ever. The old woman says he's in a bad way, 'n' wants a +nuss to take care of him. Them nusses that take care of old rich folks +marry 'em sometimes,--'n' they don't commonly live a great while after +that. _No, Sir!_ I don't see what he wants to die for, after he's taken +so much trouble to live in such poor accommodations as that crooked body +of his. I should like to know how his soul crawled into it, 'n' how it's +goin' to get out. What business has he to die, I should like to know? +Let Ma'am Allen (the gentleman with the _diamond_) die, if he likes, and +be (this is a family-magazine); but we a'n't goin' to have _him_ dyin'. +Not by a great sight. Can't do without him anyhow. A'n't it fun to hear +him blow off his steam? + +I believe the young fellow would take it as a personal insult, if the +little gentleman should show any symptoms of quitting our table for a +better world. + +--In the mean time, what with going to church in company with our young +lady, and taking every chance I could get to talk with her, I have found +myself becoming, I will not say intimate, but well acquainted with Miss +Iris. There is a certain frankness and directness about her that perhaps +belong to her artist nature. For, you see, the one thing that marks the +true artist is a clear perception and a firm, bold hand, in distinction +from that imperfect mental vision and uncertain touch which give us the +feeble pictures and the lumpy statues of the mere artisans on canvas or +in stone. A true artist, therefore, can hardly fail to have a sharp, +well-defined character. Besides this, many young girls have a strange +audacity blended with their instinctive delicacy. Even in physical +daring many of them are a match for boys; whereas you will find few +among mature women, and especially if they are mothers, who do not +confess, and not unfrequently proclaim, their timidity. One of these +young girls, as many of us hereabouts remember, climbed to the top of a +jagged, slippery rock lying out in the waves,--an ugly height to get up, +and a worse one to get down, even for a bold young fellow of sixteen. +Another was in the way of climbing tall trees for crows' nests,--and +crows generally know about how far boys can "shin up," and set their +household establishments above high-water-mark. Still another of these +young ladies I saw for the first time in an open boat, tossing on the +ocean ground-swell, a mile or two from shore, off a lonely island. She +lost all her daring, after she had some girls of her own to look out +for. + +Many blondes are very gentle, yielding in character, impressible, +unelastic. But the _positive_ blondes, with the golden tint running +through them, are often full of character. They come from those +deep-bosomed German women that Tacitus portrayed in such strong colors. +The _negative_ blondes, or those women whose tints have faded out as +their line of descent has become impoverished, are of various blood, and +in them the soul has often become pale with that blanching of the hair +and loss of color in the eyes which makes them approach the character of +Albinesses. + +I see in this young girl that union of strength and sensibility which, +when directed and impelled by the strong instinct so apt to accompany +this combination of active and passive capacity, we call _genius_. She +is not an accomplished artist, certainly, as yet; but there is always an +air in every careless figure she draws, as it were of upward +aspiration,--the _elan_ of John of Bologna's Mercury,--a lift to them, +as if they had on winged sandals, like the herald of the gods. I hear +her singing sometimes; and though she evidently is not trained, yet is +there a wild sweetness in her fitful and sometimes fantastic +melodies,--such as can come only from the inspiration of the +moment,--strangely enough, reminding me of those long passages I have +heard from my little neighbor's room, yet of different tone, and by no +means to be mistaken for those weird harmonies. + +I cannot pretend to deny that I am interested in the girl. Alone, +unprotected, as I have seen so many young girls left in boarding-houses, +the centre of all the men's eyes that surround the table, watched with +jealous sharpness by every woman, most of all by that poor relation of +our landlady, who belongs to the class of women that like to catch +others in mischief when they are too mature for indiscretions, (as one +sees old rogues turn to thief-catchers,) one of Nature's _gendarmerie_, +clad in a complete suit of wrinkles, the cheapest coat-of-mail against +the shafts of the great little enemy,--so surrounded, Iris spans this +commonplace household-life of ours with her arch of beauty, as the +rainbow, whose name she borrows, looks down on a dreary pasture with its +feeding flocks and herds of indifferent animals. + +These young girls that live in boarding-houses can do pretty much as +they will. The female _gendarmes_ are off guard occasionally. The +sitting-room has its solitary moments, when any two boarders who wish to +meet may come together accidentally, (_accidentally_, I said, Madam, and +I had not the slightest intention of Italicizing the word,) and discuss +the social or political questions of the day, or any other subject that +may prove interesting. Many charming conversations take place at the +foot of the stairs, or while one of the parties is holding the latch of +a door,--in the shadow of porticos, and especially on those outside +balconies which some of our Southern neighbors call "stoops," the most +charming places in the world when the moon is just right and the roses +and honeysuckles are in full blow,--as we used to think in eighteen +hundred and never mention it. + +On such a balcony or "stoop," one evening, I walked with Iris. We were +on pretty good terms now, and I had coaxed her arm under mine,--my left +arm, of course. That leaves one's right arm free to defend the lovely +creature, if the rival--odious wretch!--attempt to ravish her from your +side. Likewise if one's heart should happen to beat a little, its mute +language will not be without its meaning, as you will perceive when the +arm you hold begins to tremble,--a circumstance like to occur, if you +happen to be a good-looking young fellow, and you two have the "stoop" +to yourselves. + +We had it to ourselves that evening. The Koh-i-noor, as we called him, +was in a corner with our landlady's daughter. The young fellow John was +smoking out in the yard. The _gendarme_ was afraid of the evening air, +and kept inside. The young Marylander came to the door, looked out and +saw us walking together, gave his hat a pull over his forehead and +stalked off. I felt a slight spasm, as it were, in the arm I held, and +saw the girl's head turn over her shoulder for a second. What a kind +creature this is! She has no special interest in this youth, but she +does not like to see a young fellow going off because he feels as if he +were not wanted. + +She had her locked drawing-book under her arm.--Let me take it,--I said. + +She gave it to me to carry. + +This is full of caricatures of all of us, I am sure,--said I. + +She laughed, and said,--No,--not all of you. + +I was there, of course? + +Why, no,--she had never taken so much pains with me. + +Then she would let me see the inside of it? + +She would think of it. + +Just as we parted, she took a little key from her pocket and handed it +to me.--This unlocks my naughty book,--she said,--you shall see it. I am +not afraid of you. + +I don't know whether the last words exactly pleased me. At any rate, I +took the book and hurried with it to my room. I opened it, and saw, in a +few glances, that I held the heart of Iris in my hand. + + * * * * * + +--I have no verses for you this month, except these few lines suggested +by the season. + + +MIDSUMMER. + +Here! sweep these foolish leaves away,-- +I will not crush my brains to-day!-- +Look! are the southern curtains drawn? +Fetch me a fan, and so begone! + +Not that,--the palm-tree's rustling leaf +Brought from a parching coral-reef! +Its breath is heated;--I would swing +The broad gray plumes,--the eagle's wing. + +I hate these roses' feverish blood!-- +Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, +A long-stemmed lily from the lake, +Cold as a coiling water-snake. + +Rain me sweet odors on the air, +And wheel me up my Indian chair, +And spread some book not overwise +Flat out before my sleepy eyes. + +--Who knows it not,--this dead recoil +Of weary fibres stretched with toil,-- +The pulse that flutters faint and low +When Summer's seething breezes blow? + +O Nature! bare thy loving breast +And give thy child one hour of rest,-- +One little hour to lie unseen +Beneath thy scarf of leafy green! + +So, curtained by a singing pine, +Its murmuring voice shall blend with mine, +Till, lost in dreams, my faltering lay +In sweeter music dies away. + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Life and Liberty in America_: or Sketches of a Tour in the United +States and Canada in 1857-8. By CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D., F.S.A. London: +Smith, Elder, & Co. 1859. + +"Let him come back and write a book about the 'Merrikins as'll pay all +his expenses and more, if he blows 'em up enough," urged Mr. Anthony +Weller, by way of climax to his scheme for Mr. Pickwick's liberation from +the Fleet Prison. Whether Mr. Dickens, in putting forth this suggestion +through one of his favorite characters, had or had not a view to +subsequent operations of his own, has long been a sore question among +his admirers on this side of the Atlantic. We believe that he had not; +and that such "blowing-up" as he imparted to the people of this country +was wholly unpremeditated and spontaneous, besides being of so harmless +a nature that the patriot of most uneasy virtue need have been nowise +distressed in consequence. The language can show few more amusing books +than the "American Notes," especially the serious parts thereof. + +Mr. Dickens had plenty of objects besides his future self at which to +aim his satirical shot. At the time he discharged it, the literary +market of England was overstocked with books on America, the authors of +which had apparently tasked the best energies of their lungs in +incessant "blowings-up" of all that came within range of their breath. +Up to that period, though viewing America from various stand-points, +they had seldom failed to recognize this one essential element of +success. Since then, however, attempts have been made to satisfy the +prejudices of all sides,--in which the bitter and the sweet have been +deftly mingled, with the obvious belief that persons aggrieved, while +suffering from the authors' stings, would derive comfort from the +consciousness of accompanying honey. These hopes generally proved +fallacious, and the authors, falling to the ground between the two +stools of American sensitiveness and British asperity, were regarded in +the light of stern warnings by many of their successors, who straightway +became pitiless. + +The critical works on America by English writers, published during the +last fifty years, may be numbered by hundreds. Of these, nearly half +have at different times been reprinted in this country. Most of them are +now unknown, having passed to that oblivion of letters from whose bourn +no short-sighted and narrow-minded traveller ever ought to return. The +annual harvest began to appear about a half-century ago, when little +more than descriptions of scenery and geographical statistics were +ventured upon,--although one quaint explorer, John Lambert, vouchsafed, +in 1810, some sketches of society, from which we learn, among other +interesting facts, that a species of Bloomerism pervaded New York, and +flourished on Broadway, even at that early day. Our visitors very soon +enlarged the sphere of their observations, and entered upon the widest +discussions of republican manners and morals. Slavery, as was to be +expected, received immediate attention. In the course of ten years, +"American Tours" had set in with such rigor, that one writer felt called +upon to apologize for adding another to the already profuse supply. This +was in 1818. For the next fifteen years, the principle of unlimited +mockery was quite faithfully observed. The Honorable De Roos, who made a +naval examination in 1826, and satisfied himself that the United States +could never be a maritime power,--Colonel Maxwell, who entered upon a +military investigation, and came to a similar conclusion respecting our +prospects as to army, and who gained great credit for independent +judgment by pronouncing Niagara a humbug,--Mrs. Kemble, frisky and +fragmentary, excepting when her father was concerned, and then filially +diffuse,--Mrs. Trollope, who refused to incumber herself with amiability +or veracity,--Mr. Lieber, who was principally troubled by a camp meeting +at which he assisted,--Miss Martineau, who retailed too much of the +gossip that had been decanted through the tunnel of her trumpet,--and +Captain Marryatt, who was simply clownish,--afford fair examples of the +style which dominated until about 1836 or 1837. Then works of a better +order began to appear. America received scientific attention. It had +been agriculturally worked up in 1818 by Cobbett, whose example was now +followed by Shirreff and others. In 1839, George Combe subjected us to +phrenological treatment, and had the frankness to acknowledge that it +was impossible for an individual to properly describe a great nation. +Afterwards came Lyell, the geologist, who did not, however, confine +himself to scientific research, but also analyzed the social deposits, +and ascertained that Slavery was triturable. The manufacturers of +gossip, meanwhile, had revolutionized the old system. Mr. Dickens blew +hot and cold, uniting extremes. Godley, in 1841, disavowed satire, and +was solemnly severe. Others evinced a similar disposition, but the +result was not triumphant. Alexander Mackay, in 1846, returned to +ridicule; and Alfred Bunn, a few years after, surpassed even Marryatt in +his flippant falsehood. Mr. Arthur Cunynghame, a Canadian officer, +entertained his friends, in 1850, with a dainty volume, in which the +first personal pronoun averaged one hundred to a page, and the manner of +which was as stiff as the ramrods of his regiment. Of our more recent +judges, the best remembered are Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley who gave to +the world the details of her private experiences,--Mr. Chambers, of +whose book there is really nothing in particular to say,--Mr. Baxter, +who considered Peter Parley a shining light of American +literature,--Miss Murray, who sacrificed her interests at St. James's +upon the shrine of Antislavery,--Mr. Phillipps, scientific,--Mr. +Russell, agricultural,--Mr. Jobson, theological,--and Mr. Colley +Grattan, who may be termed the Sir Anthony Absolute of American censors, +insisting that the Lady Columbia shall be as ugly as he chooses, shall +have a hump on each shoulder, shall be as crooked as the crescent, and +so forth. + +Last of all comes Mr. Charles Mackay's book. Before proceeding to the +few general words we have to say of it, let us look for a moment at a +question which he, like a number of his predecessors, has considered +with some attention. Why it is that the people of the United States +manifest such acute sensibility to the strictures of English writers, +and receive their criticisms with so much suspicion, Mr. Mackay is +unable fully to determine. He is forced to believe that it is only their +anxiety "to stand well in English opinion which causes them to wince"; +particularly as "French and Germans may condemn, and nobody cares what +they say." This is but a part of the truth. Unquestionably, Americans +do, as Mr. Mackay says, "attach undue importance to what English +travellers may say"; but this does not account for the universal feeling +of mortification which follows the appearance of each new tourist's +story. Americans have not failed to observe, that, of the hundreds of +writers who come over, only a few of the most prominent of whom we have +mentioned above, not one in fifty is animated by a sincere impulse of +honest good-will. They have learned to mistrust them all, as triflers +with our reputation, if not predetermined calumniators. They have +witnessed over and over again the childish ignorance, the discourtesy, +the vulgar deceptions of this class of bookmakers. They are not blind to +these repeated struggles to digest a mass of mental food for years, in +days or weeks. They know their nation cannot be understood by these +chance viewers, feebly glancing through greenest spectacles, any more +than the Atlantic can be sounded with a seven-fathom line. They have +become familiar with the English traveller only to regard him with +contempt. Each new production has opened the old wound. Each new +announcement awakens only derisive expectations. As for "French and +Germans," with them it is very different; and Mr. Mackay ought to know +it. They commonly write, if not with comprehensive vision, at least with +integrity of purpose. The best works on America are by Frenchmen. What +Englishman has shown the sincerity and fairness of De Tocqueville or +Chevalier? Knowing, then, that absurd malice and a capacity for +microscopic investigation of superficial irregularities in a society not +yet defined are the principal, and in many cases the only, +qualifications deemed necessary to accomplish an English book on +America, is it matter for wonder that Americans should hesitate to kiss +the clumsy rods so liberally dispensed? + +We hasten to say that Mr. Charles Mackay's "Life and Liberty in America" +is unusually free from the worst of these faults. Hasty judgments, +offences against taste, inaccuracies, occasional revelations of personal +pique it has; but it is not malicious. Sometimes it is even affecting in +its tenderness. It breathes a spirit of paternal regard. But it is, +perhaps, the dullest of books. If not "icily regular," it is "splendidly +null." The style is as oppressive as a London fog. It is marked, to use +the author's own words, by "elegant and drowsy stagnation." After the +first few pages, it is with weariness that we follow him. We are +inclined to think Mr. Mackay has written too much, Mr. Squeers had milk +for three of his pupils watered up to the necessities of five. Mr. +Mackay's experiences might have sustained him through a single small +volume, but he has diluted them to the requirements of two large ones. +This would injure the prospects of his work in America, but may not +interfere with them in England. Minute details of toilet agonies, +pecuniary miseries, laundry tribulations, and anxieties of appetite may +possess an interest abroad which we are unable to appreciate here. We +are not excited by the intelligence that Mr. Mackay had an altercation +with a negro servant on board a Sound steamer, because he could not have +lager-beer at table. Such things have been noticed before. We do not +shed a sympathetic tear over the two dollars which he once had to +disgorge in New York, in payment for a ride of two miles; nor do we +mourn for the numerous other dollars with which he reluctantly parted to +satisfy the rapacity of hack-drivers all over the Union. We do not +thrill with indignation, when we learn that he was, on a certain +occasion, swept by crinolines into the middle of Broadway. Neither are +we in any way stirred by such information as, that he, like an English +lord of whom he tells, was accustomed to eat oysters every night in New +York; or that he "was pervaded, permeated, steeped, and bathed in a +longing desire to behold Niagara," and that, when he beheld it, his +"feelings were not so much those of astonishment as of an overpowering +sense of Law"; or that a peddler in a railroad-car sold nine bottles of +quack medicine at a dollar a bottle; or that he had eight pages of +interview with a Baltimore madman, who proved his insanity by +perpetually calling Mr. Mackay the "Prince of the Poets of England." The +dreary solemnity with which these incidents are narrated renders them +doubly tedious. A flash of humor might enliven them, but we never see a +spark. Mr. Mackay's comic stories, too, of which there are not a few, +are most lamentable specimens of wit, suggesting forcibly the +poppy-seeds spoken of by Mr. Pillicoddy, which are soporific in +tendency, and which, if taken incessantly for a period of three weeks, +produce instant death. + +Mr. Mackay's experiences were not of a startling character. He travelled +leisurely, and recorded discreetly. His blunders on a large scale are +not numerous; but of minor facts, he announces many which may be classed +among the remarkable discoveries of the season. He states that New York, +New Jersey,(!) and Brooklyn form one city; that Broadway, N.Y., is +decorated with elms, willows, and mountain-ashes, "drooping in green +beauty"; that persons with decent coats and clean shirts in Boston may +be safely put down as lecturers, Unitarian ministers, or poets; that +Maryland and Virginia are one commonwealth; that eighteen months before +every Presidential election, a cause of quarrel is made with England by +both the principal political parties, for the purpose of securing the +Irish rote; that measly pork is caused by too hasty insertion in brine +after killing, and consequent rapid fermentation; that the people of +the United States, unless they have travelled in Europe, are quite +unable to appreciate wit. [Mr. Mackay's wit? If so, certainly.] These +are but random pluckings from a rich blossoming. + +The subject upon which the author has labored most earnestly is that of +Slavery. If the views he sets forth are the result of his own +investigation, he is entitled to credit for unusual exactness. There is +nothing new about them, to be sure; but there is also nothing absurd, +which is a great point. He maintains the argument against Slavery, that +it is to be practically considered in its injurious influences on the +white people of the Slave States, and, through them, on the nation at +large. When he undertakes an emotional view of the "institution," he +becomes feeble again. He thus describes his sensations while visiting a +slave-market in New Orleans:--"I entertained at that moment such a +hatred of slavery, that, had it been in my power to abolish it in an +instant off the face of the earth by the mere expression of my will, +slavery at that moment would have ceased to exist,"--an avowal which +will hardly be likely to confound the American people by its boldness. + +The statistical information in these volumes is as accurate as that of +ordinary gazetteers. In most cases, the author appears to have drawn his +information from proper sources. The principal exceptions to this are +shown in one or two statements which he makes on the authority of his +Pylades, Colonel Fuller, and in his remarks upon Canada, which are +colored with excessive warmth. Mr. Mackay rests greater hopes upon the +future of Canada than upon that of the United States. He considers the +Canadians as the rivals in energy, enterprise, and industry of the +people of the United States. His testimony differs from that of Lord +Durham, who had good opportunities for knowing something about the +matter when he had charge of Canadian affairs, and who declared, that +"on the American side of the frontier all is activity and bustle," etc., +"on the British side all seems waste and desolate." + +Mr. Mackay gives correctly the most prominent names of American +literature, but his list of artists is very imperfect. The little that +he says about American music is all wrong. The first opera by an +American was produced in 1845; and it is not true that this is a +solitary example. Were it possible for us to pursue them, we should run +down more errors of this kind than a prudent man would have put into +print. + +Altogether, while we readily admit that Mr. Mackay has honestly, and, in +general, good-naturedly, performed his duty as an American chronicler, +renouncing in a great measure the old principle of "blowing-up," and +that his essays do not reek with ignorance, like those of many of his +predecessors, it is yet proper to say that he has achieved a stupendous +bore. His two volumes are to us a melancholy remembrance. Their life is +spiced with no variety. The same dead level of dry personal detail +speaks through each chapter; or if occasional relief is afforded, it is +"in liquid lines mellifluously bland," and prosier than all the rest. +The one source of amusement that the reader will discover is the +complacent self-confidence which no assumption of modesty can hide. "A +controversy had been raging for at least a week" in Philadelphia about +the author's letters in the "Illustrated London News." His defender was +"one of the most influential and best-conducted papers of the Union"; +his assailant behaved "scurvily." We cannot lavish examples. This is the +type of a hundred. Mr. Mackay seems to expect that his Jeremiad on +tobacco-chewing and spitting will act in America as St. Patrick's spells +did on the vermin of Ireland. Unfortunately, it will not. Mr. Dickens +attempted the same thing in a much better manner,--excepting where Mr. +Mackay has copied him exactly, as he has once or twice,--and even the +novelist's efforts were fruitless. On the other hand, the main source of +annoyance will be found in the needless elevation of minute evils, and +the determination to form general judgments from isolated experiences. +But of this we do not much complain. Rome derived some benefit from the +cackling of a goose. Possibly we may be made in some respects a wiser +and a better nation through Mr. Mackay's influence. For ourselves, +however, if our aspirations ever turn toward a literary Paradise, we +shall pray that it may be one where travellers cease from troubling and +dull tourists are at rest. + + * * * * * + +1. _The New and the Old_; or California and India in Romantic Aspects. +By J.W. PALMER, M.D. New York: Rudd & Carleton. 1859. + +2. _Up and Down the Irawaddi_; being Passages of Adventure in the Burman +Empire. By the Same. + +It has passed into a scornful proverb, that it needs good optics to see +what is not to be seen; and yet we should be inclined to say that the +first essential of a good traveller was to be gifted with eyesight of +precisely that kind. All his senses should be as delicate as eyes; and, +above all, he should be able to see with the fine eye of imagination, +compared with which all the other organs with which the mind grasps and +the memory holds are as clumsy as thumbs. The demand for this kind of +traveller and the opportunity for him increase as we learn more and more +minutely the dry facts and figures of the most inaccessible corners of +the earth's surface. There is no hope of another Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, +with his statistics of Dreamland, who makes no difficulty of impressing +"fourscore thousand rhinocerots" to draw the wagons of the King of +Tartary's army, or of killing eight hundred and fifty thousand men with +a flourish of his quill,--for what were a few ciphers to him, when his +inkhorn was full and all Christendom to be astonished?--but there is all +the more need of voyagers who give us something better than a census of +population, and who know of other exports from strange countries than +can be expressed by $----. Give us the traveller who makes us feel the +mystery of the Figure at Sais, whose veil has a new meaning for every +beholder, rather than him who brings back a photograph of the uncovered +countenance, with its one unvarying granite story for all. There is one +glory of the Gazetteer with his fixed facts, and another of the Poet +with his variable quantities of fancy. The fixed fact may be unfixed +next year, like an almanac, but the hasty sketch of the true artist is +good forever. + +Critics have a good-natured way of stigmatizing, for the initiated, all +poetry that is not poetry, by saying that it is "elegant," "harmonious," +or, worse than all, "descriptive." This last commonly means that the +author has done for his readers precisely what they could do for +themselves,--that he has made a catalogue of the natural objects to be +found in a certain number of acres, which differs from the literary +efforts of an auctioneer only in this, that each line begins with a +capital and contains the same number of syllables. He counts the number +of cabbages in a field, of cows in a pasture, and tells us how many +times a squirrel ran up (or down) a given tree in a given time. He +informs us that the bark of the shagbark is shaggy, that the +sleep-at-noon slumbers at mid-day, that moss is apt to grow on fallen +tree-trunks in damp places,--treats us as the old alchemists do, who +give us a list of the materials out of which gold (if it had any moral +sense) would at once consent to be made, but somehow won't,--and leaves +us impressed with that very dead certainty, that things are so-and-so, +which is the result of verses that are only so-so. + +Readers of the "Atlantic" need not be told that Dr. Palmer is not a +descriptive poet of this fashion. They have known how to appreciate his +sketches of East Indian life, so vivid, picturesque, and imaginative +that they could make "Griffins" feel twinges of liver-complaint, and so +true that we have heard them pronounced "incomparable" by men familiar +with India. Dr. Palmer is no mere describer; he sees with the eye of a +poet, touches only what is characteristic, and, while he seems to +surrender himself wholly to the Circe Imagination, retains the polished +coolness of the man of the world, and the _brownness_ of the man of the +nineteenth century. He not only knows how to observe, but how to +write,--both of them accomplishments rare enough in an age when +everybody is ready to contract for their display by the column. His +style is nervous and original, not harassingly pointed like a +chestnut-burr, but full of _esprit_ or wit diffused,--that Gallic leaven +which pervades whole sentences and paragraphs with an indefinable +lightness and palatableness. It is a thoroughly American style, too, a +little over-indifferent to tradition and convention, but quite free of +the _sic-semper-tyrannis_ swagger. Uncle Bull, who is just like his +nephew in thinking that he has a divine right to the world's oyster, +cannot swallow it properly till he has donned a white choker, and +refuses to be comforted when Jonathan disposes of it in his rapid way +with the shell for a platter. We confess that we prefer the +free-and-easy manner in its proper place to the diplomatic way of always +treating the reader with sentiments of the highest consideration, and +like a book all the more for having an Occidental flavor. + +But it is not merely or chiefly as being among the cleverest and +liveliest of modern light literature that we value Dr. Palmer's books. +They have a true poetic value, and instruct as much as they entertain. +While he is telling us a San Francisco story, the truth of the +accessories and the skill with which they are grouped bring the +California of 1849 before us with unmatched vividness. We have been +getting knowledge and learning a deep moral without suspecting it, as if +by our own observation and experience. In the same way "Asirvadam the +Brahmin" is a prose poem that lets us into the secret of the Indian +revolt. It is seldom that we meet with volumes of more real power than +these, or whose force is so artistically masked under ease and +playfulness. We prefer the "Old" part of the book to the "New." It seems +to us to show a better style of handling. There is something of +melodrama in the style of the California stories,--a flavor of blue +lights and burnt cork. At the same time, we must admit that there is a +melodramatic taint in our American life:--witness the Sickles vulgarity. +Young America is _b'hoyish_ rather than boyish, and perhaps the "New" +may be all the truer to Nature for what we dislike in it. + +"The New and the Old" is fittingly dedicated to the Autocrat of all the +Breakfast-Tables, than whom no man has done more to demonstrate that wit +and mirth are not incompatible with seriousness of purpose and +incisiveness of thought. + + * * * * * + +_Napoleonic Ideas_. By Prince NAPOLEON LOUIS BONAPARTE. Translated by +JAMES A. DORR. New York: D. Appleton & Company. 1859. + +This publication has at least that merit which is one of the first in +literature,--it is timely. Though we look upon the Emperor of the French +as a kind of imperial Jonathan Wild, it does not the less concern us to +make a true estimate of his intellectual capacity. Nothing is more +unwise than to assume that a man's brain must be limited because his +moral sense is small; yet no mistake is more common. Napoleon the Third +may play an important part in History, though by no possibility an +heroic one. In reading this little volume, one cannot fail to be struck +with the presence of mind and the absence of heart of which it gives +evidence. It is the advertisement of a charlatan, whose sole inheritance +is the right to manufacture the Napoleonic pill, and we read with +unavoidable distrust the vouchers of its wonderful efficacy. We do not +fancy the Bonapartist grape-cure, nor believe in it. + +Mr. Dorr's translation is excellent. He understands French, and is able +to do it into English elegantly and accurately without any trace of +foreign idiom. This is no easy thing; for our general experience has +been that translators read French like Englishmen and write English like +Frenchmen. + + * * * * * + +_Country Life_. By R. MORRIS COPELAND. Boston: John P. Jewett & Company. +1859. + +In an article on "Farming Life in New England," published in a former +volume of the "Atlantic," a valued contributor drew attention to the +painful lack of beauty in the lives and homes of our rural population. +Some attempts were made to show that his statements were exaggerated; +but we are satisfied that they were true in all essential particulars. +The abolition of entails, (however wise in itself,) and the consequent +subdivision of estates, will always put country life, in the English +sense of the words, out of the question here. Our houses will continue +to be tents; trees, without ancestral associations, will be valued by +the cord; and that cumulative charm, the slow result of associations, of +the hereditary taste of many generations, must always be wanting. Age is +one of the prime elements of natural beauty; but among us the love of +what is new so predominates, that we have known the largest oak in a +county to be cut down by the selectmen to make room for a shanty +schoolhouse, simply because the tree was of "no account," being hollow +and gnarled, and otherwise delightfully picturesque. Our people are +singularly dead also to the value of beauty in public architecture; and +while they clear away a tree which the seasons have been two centuries +in building, they will put up with as little remorse a stone or brick +abomination that shall be a waking nightmare for a couple of centuries +to come. But selectmen are not chosen with reference to their knowledge +of Price or Ruskin. + +Mr. Copeland's book is specially adapted to the conditions of a +community like ours. Its title might have been "Rural AEsthetics for Men +of Limited Means, or the Laws of Beauty considered in their Application +to Small Estates." It is a volume happily conceived and happily +executed, and meets a palpable and increasing want of our civilization. +Whatever adds grace to the daily lives of a people, and awakens in them +a perception of the beauty of outward Nature and its healthful reaction +on the nature of man,--whatever tends to make toil unsordid, and to put +it in relations of intelligent sympathy with the beautiful progression +of the seasons,--adds incalculably to the wealth of a country, though +the increase may not appear in the Report of the Secretary of the +Interior. + +Mr. Copeland's volume is calculated to do this, and his own +qualifications for the task he has undertaken are manifold. Chief among +them we should reckon a true enthusiasm for the cause he advocates, and +a hearty delight in out-of-doors-life. He writes with the zeal and +warmth of a reformer; but these are tempered by practical knowledge, and +such a respect for the useful as will not sacrifice it to the merely +pretty. His volume contains not only suggestions in landscape-gardening, +guided always by the true principle of making Nature our ally rather +than attempting to subdue her, but minute directions for the greenhouse, +grapery, conservatory, farm, and kitchen-garden. One may learn from it +how to plant whatever grows, and to care for it afterwards. Engravings +and plans make clear whatever needs illustration. The book has also the +special merit of _not_ being adapted to the meridian of Greenwich. + +We do not always agree with Mr. Copeland; we dissent especially from his +prejudice against the noble horsechestnut-tree, with its grand +thunder-cloud of foliage, its bee-haunted cones of bloom, and its +polished fruit so uselessly useful to children,--Bushy Park is answer +enough on that score; but we cordially appreciate his taste and ability. +His book will justify a warm commendation. It is laid out on true +principles of landscape-farming. The stiff and square economical details +are relieved by passages of great beauty and picturesqueness. The +cockney who owns a snoring-privilege in the suburbs will be stimulated +to a sense of latent beauty in clouds and fields; and the farmer who +looks on the cosmic forces as mere motive-power for the wheels of his +money-mill will find the truth of the proverb, that more water runs over +the dam than the miller wots of, and learn that Nature is as lavish of +Beauty as she is frugal in Use. Even to the editor, whose only fields +are those of literature, and whose only leaves grow from a +composing-stick, the advent of a book like this is refreshing. It +enables him to lay out with a judicious economy the gardens attached to +his Spanish manor-houses, and to do his farming without risk of loss, in +the most charming way of all, (especially in July weather,)--by proxy. +Without leaving our study, we have already raised some astonishing +prize-vegetables, and our fat cattle have been approvingly mentioned in +the committee's report. We have found an afternoon's reading in Mr. +Copeland's book almost as good as owning that "place in the country" +which almost all men dream of as an ideal to be realized whenever their +visionary ship comes in. + + * * * * * + +_High Life in New York_. By JONATHAN SLICK. Philadelphia: Peterson & +Brothers. + +The advantages of a favorable introduction are very obvious. A person +who enters society fortified with eulogistic letters, giving assurance +of his trustworthiness, so far as respectability and good behavior are +concerned, is tolerably sure of a comfortable reception. But if, unable +to sustain the character his credentials ascribe to him, he immediately +begin to display bad manners, ignorance, and folly, he not only forfeits +the position to which he has gained accidental access, but also brings +discredit upon his too hasty indorser. + +In literature it is not different. The collection of printed matter +which appears under the title of "High Life in New York" is accompanied +by a note, signed by the publishers, who are naturally supposed to know +something of the real value of the works they issue, in which "editors +are forewarned that it is a volume which, for downright drollery and +hearty humor, has never had its equal in the productions of any American +pen," and are otherwise admonished in various ways calculated to inspire +lofty expectations, and to fill the mind with exalted visions of coming +joy. But when it appears, on examination, that the book is as utterly +unworthy of these elaborate commendations as any book can possibly +be,--that it is from beginning to end nothing but a dead level of +stagnant verbiage, a desolate waste of dreary platitude,--the reader +cannot but regard the publishers' ardent expressions of approbation as +going quite beyond the license allowable in preliminary puffs. + +"High Life in New York" represents a class of publications which has, of +late, in many ways, been set before the public with too great +liberality. The sole object seems to be to exhibit the "Yankee" +character in its traditional deformities of stupidity and +meanness,--otherwise denominated simplicity and shrewdness. Mr. Jonathan +Slick is in no respect different from the ordinary fabulous Yankee. An +illiterate clown he is, who, visiting New York, contrives by vice of +impudence, to interfere very seriously with certain conventionalities of +the metropolis. He overthrows, by his indomitable will, a great many +social follies. He eats soup with a knife and fork; wears no more than +one shirt a week; forces his way into ladies' chambers at unseemly +hours, to cure them of timidity; and introduces sundry other reforms, +all of which are recorded as evidences of glorious independence and a +true nobility of spirit. Sometimes he goes farther,--farther than we +care to follow him. It would be easy to show wherein he is offensive, +not to say disgusting; but we are not so disposed. It is not considered +necessary for the traveller who has dragged his way over a muddy road to +prove the nastiness of his pilgrimage by imparting the stain to our +carpets. + +In this book, as in most of its class, the Yankee dialect is employed +throughout, the author evidently believing that bad spelling and bad +grammar are the legitimate sources of New England humor. This shows that +he mistakes means for ends,--just as one who supposes that Mr. Merryman, +in the circus, must, of necessity, be funny, because he wears the motley +and his nose is painted red. The Yankee dialect is Mr. Jonathan Slick's +principal element of wit; his second is the onion. The book is redolent +of onions. That odorous vegetable breathes from every page. A woman +weeps, and onions are invoked to lend aromatic fragrance to a stale +comparison. In one place, onions and education are woven together by +some extraordinary rhetorical machinery; in another, religion is +glorified through the medium of the onion; until at last the narrative +seems to resolve itself into a nauseating nightmare, such as might +torture the brain of some unhappy dreamer in a bed of onions. + +Why such works are ever written at all, it is difficult to imagine; but +how it is, that, when written, they find publishers, is inconceivable. + + * * * * * + +_Great Auction-Sale of Slaves, at Savannah, Georgia_. New York: +Published by the American Anti-Slavery Society. + +This little pamphlet, reprinted from the columns of the "New York +Tribune," possesses a double interest. It furnishes the best and most +minute description of an auction-sale of slaves that has ever been +published; and it admirably illustrates the enterprise and prompt energy +which often distinguish the journalism of America above that of any +other country. + +The slave-sale of which it is a record took place on the second and +third days of March last, in the city of Savannah. For many reasons, it +had been looked forward to with more than usual interest. The position +of the owner, Mr. Pierce M. Butler, of Philadelphia, and the large +number (no less than four hundred and thirty-six) and superior quality +of the human chattels offered for sale, added to the importance of the +event. The "Tribune" had one of its best descriptive writers, Mr. +Mortimer Thomson, on the spot. The duty Mr. Thomson undertook was not +without danger; for a somewhat extensive notoriety as an _attache_ of +the "Tribune" was not likely to insure him the most cordial reception at +the South. Had his presence been discovered, the temper of the people of +Savannah would speedily have betrayed itself; and had his purpose been +suspected, their wrath would assuredly have culminated in wreakages of a +nature unfavorable to his personal comfort. But with caution, and the +aid of Masonic influences, he escaped detection, and accomplished his +aim. The result of his observations was a report of considerable length, +in which every striking incident of the sale was narrated with accurate +fidelity. Although written mostly on the rail and against time, under +circumstances which would be fatal to the labors of any man not inured +by newspaper experience to all sorts of literary hardships, the style is +clear, distinct, and often eloquent. The scene and the transaction are +brought vividly to the reader's mind. The throng of eager +speculators,--the heavy-eyed and brutal drivers,--the sprightlier +representatives of Chivalry,--the unhappy slaves, abandoning hope as +they enter the mart, excepting in rare cases, where, grasping at straws, +they pray in trembling tones that their ties of love may remain +unsevered,--the operations of the sale,--the shrinking women, standing +submissively under the vile jests of the reckless crowd,--are portrayed +with all the emphasis of truth. One little episode in particular, the +love-story of Jeffrey and Dorcas, is a more affecting history than +romance can show. + +The effect of this publication in the "Tribune" was prodigious. It was +widely circulated through all the journals of the North. The +Anti-Slavery Society preserved it in a pamphlet. The ire of a good +portion of the Southern journals was ludicrous to witness, and proved +how keenly the blow was felt. The report was republished in Great +Britain,--first in the London "Times," and subsequently, as a pamphlet, +in Edinburgh, in Glasgow, and in Belfast. In one publisher's +announcement, at least, it was advertised as "Greeley's Account of the +Great Slave-Sale." + + * * * * * + +_Popular Tales from the Norse_. By GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L. With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. lxix., 379. + +The tales of which this volume presents the first English +translation--though, as regards some of them, hardly the first English +version--appear to have been collected about twenty or twenty-five years +ago. Two gentlemen, Messrs. Asbjoernsen and Moe, (the name of the first +of whom begets much confidence in his ability for the task,) went out +among the most unlettered and rudest of the common folk of Norway and +Sweden, and there, from the lips of old women and little children, +gathered these stories of the antique time. Of what age the stories are, +nobody knows,--those who listened to them in their childhood, to relate +them in turn in their declining years, least perhaps of all. For they +are a part of the inheritance common to all the races that have sprung +from the Asiatic ancestor, who, at periods the nearest of which is far +beyond the ken of history, and at intervals of centuries, sent off +descendants to find a resting-place in Europe; and it is one great +object, if not the principal object, of the original collectors and the +translator of these tales to exhibit in them a bond of union among all +European peoples. + +Indeed, the tales in their present form may be regarded as examples in +point appended to the translator's Essay which opens the volume. For +they will add little to our stock of available stories, for either +youthful or adult reading. The best of them already are a part of our +nursery lore, and are known to the English race under forms better +adapted to English taste and sympathies than those under which they are +here presented; and nearly all of those that are exceptions to this +remark are unfitted for "home consumption," either by the objectionable +nature of their subjects, by the still more objectionable tendency of +their teaching, or by a yet more fatal demerit,--their lack of interest. +They are in some respects notably tame and puerile,--with a puerility +which is not childish simplicity, but a lack of inventive fancy, and +which exhibits itself in bald repetition. The giant, for instance, +always complains of a smell of Christian blood, and is always answered +by the formula, that a crow flew over the chimney and must have dropped +a bone down it; the hero almost always meets three old women, or three +Trolls, or three enchanted beasts or birds, of whom he in that case +always asks the same questions, receiving the same replies, _verbatim_. +There is a reason for this sameness, which is indicative of the rude +condition of the people among whom the tales have been perpetuated; but +the sameness palls none the less upon more cultivated minds. Mr. Dasent +characterizes these people as "an honest and manly race,--not the race +of the towns and cities, but of the dales and fells, free and unsubdued, +holding its own in a country where there are neither lords nor ladies, +but simple men and women. Brave men and fair women," etc. (p. lxviii.) +And he says of the tales, that in no other collection is "the general +tone so chaste, are the great principles of morality better worked out, +and right and wrong kept so steadily in sight." (p. lxii.) We cannot +agree with him in this appreciation of the moral tone of the stories, +many of which certainly speak ill for the honesty and manliness of the +race among which they have been for centuries cherished +household-treasures. For in a large proportion of those that have a +successful hero, he obtains his success either by lying or some kind of +deceit or treachery, by stealing, or by imposing upon the credulity or +feebleness of age; and of those in which the hero is himself victorious +over oppression, we are not able to recollect one which exhibits the +beauty of moderation and magnanimity, not to say of Christian charity +and forgiveness. Mr. Dasent mentions it as an admirable trait of the +tales, that, "in the midst of every difficulty and danger, arises that +old Norse feeling of making the best of everything and keeping a good +face to the foe." Certainly the heroes of these tales do make the best +of everything, but they are not at all scrupulous as to their way of +making it; and they do also keep a good face to the foe, when (often by +craft, theft, or violence) they have obtained some implement or other +gift of supernatural power which places their opponents entirely at +their mercy and with no risk to themselves. But of a manful contest on +equal terms, or of a victory obtained over tyrannous power by a union of +patience, boldness, and honest skill, or even by undegrading stratagem, +the collection affords no instance that we remember. + +The story of Shortshanks may be taken as a fair, and even a favorable +example of the tone of these Norse tales. Shortshanks and King Sturdy +are twin brothers, who set out to seek their fortunes within a few +minutes of their birth, driven thereto by a precocious perception of the +_res angustae domi_. They part at two roads almost immediately, and the +story follows the fortunes of Shortshanks, the younger; for in these +miniature romances the elder is, as usual, continually snubbed, and the +younger is always the great man. Shortshanks has not gone far before he +meets "an old crook-backed hag," who has only one eye; and he commences +his career by gouging out or "snapping up" the single comfort of this +helpless creature. To get her eye back again, she gives Shortshanks a +sword that will put a whole army to flight; and he, charmed with the +result of his first manoeuvre, puts it in practice successively upon two +other decrepit, half-blind women, who, to get their eyes again, give +him, one, a ship that can sail over fresh water and salt water and over +high hills and deep dales, the other, the art how to brew a hundred +lasts of malt at one strike. The ship takes him to the king's palace, on +arriving at which he puts his vessel in his pocket, when he summons his +craft to his aid, and gets a place in the king's kitchen to carry wood +and water for the maid. The king's daughter has for some inscrutable +reason been promised to three ogres, who come successively to fetch her; +and a certain Ritter Red professes to be man enough to rescue her, but +on the approach of the first ogre proves to be a coward and climbs a +tree. But Shortshanks slips off from his scullery; and having a weapon +which can put a whole army to flight by a single stroke, he is very +brave, and keeps a remarkably good face to the foe, giving him with his +tongue as good as he sends, and, laughing the ogres' dubs to scorn, cuts +off the ogrous heads, (there are five on the first individual, ten on +the second, and fifteen on the third,) and carries off much treasure +from the ships in which his foes came to fetch their victim. Ritter Red +descends, and takes the lungs and the tongues of the ogres, (though, as +the latter were thirty in number and of gigantic size, he must have had +trouble in carrying them,) and wishes to pass them off as evidence that +he is the deliverer of the princess, of which they would seem to have +been very satisfactory proof: but the gold, silver, and diamonds carry +the day; Shortshanks has the princess and half the kingdom, and Ritter +Red is thrown into a pit full of snakes,--on the French general's +principle, we suppose, who hung his cowards "_pour encourager les +autres_." But the king has another daughter, whom an ogre has carried +off to the bottom of the sea. Shortshanks discovers her while the ogre +is out looking for a man who can brew a hundred lasts of malt at one +strike. He finds the man at home, of course, and puts him to his task. +Shortshanks gets the ogre and all his kith and kin to help the brew, and +brews the wort so strong, that, on tasting it, they all fall down dead, +except one, an old woman, "who lay bed-ridden in the chimney-corner," +and to her our hero carries his wort and kills her too. He then carries +off the treasure of the ogres, and gives this princess and the other +half of the kingdom to his brother Sturdy. + +Now we have no particular fault to find with such stories as these, when +they are produced as characteristic specimens of the folk-lore of a +people; as such, they have a value beside their intrinsic interest;--but +when we are asked to receive them as part of the evidence that that +people is an honest and manly race, and as an acceptable addition to our +stock of household tales, we demur. The truth is, that the very worth of +these tales is to be found not only in the fact that they form a part of +the stock from which our own are derived, but in the other fact that +they represent that stock as it existed at an earlier and ruder stage of +humanitarian development. They were told by savage mothers to savage +children; and although some of them teach the few virtues common to +barbarism and civilization, they are filled with the glorification of +savage vice and crime;--deceit, theft, violence, even ruthless vengeance +upon a cruel parent, are constantly practised by the characters which +they hold up to favor. Such humor as they have, too, is of the coarsest +kind, and is expressed chiefly in rude practical jokes, or the bloody +overreaching of the poor thick-headed Trolls, who are the butts of the +stories and the victims of their heroes. There is good ethnological and +mythological reason why the Trolls should be butts and victims, it is +true; but that is not to the present purpose. + +But although this judgment must be passed upon the collection, +considered merely as tales to be told and read at this stage of the +world's progress, there are several notable exceptions to it,--tales +which are based upon healthy instincts, and which appeal to sympathies +that are never entirely undeveloped in the breasts of human beings above +the grade of Bushmen, or in which the fun does not depend upon the +exhibition of unexpected modes of inflicting death, pain, or discomfort. +It is not, however, in these that we are to look for the chief +attraction and compensating value of the collection. Those are to be +found, as we have already hinted, in the relative aspects of the tales, +which the general reader might consider for a long time fruitlessly, +save for the help of Mr. Dasent's Introductory Essay. This is at once an +acute and learned commentary upon the tales themselves, and a thoroughly +elaborated monograph upon mythology in its ethnological relations. We +know no other essay upon this subject that is so comprehensive, so +compact, so clear, and so well adapted to interest intelligent readers +who have little previous knowledge on the subject, as Mr. Dasent's, +although, of necessity, it presents us with results, not processes. A +perusal of this Essay will give the intelligent and attentive reader so +just a general notion of the last results of philological and +ethnological investigation into the history of the origin and progress +of the Indo-European races, that he can listen with understanding to the +conversation of men who have made that subject their special study, and +appreciate, in a measure at least, the value of the many references to +it which he meets in the course of his miscellaneous reading. And should +he be led by the contagion of Mr. Dasent's intelligent enthusiasm to +desire a more intimate acquaintance with a topic which rarely fails to +fascinate those whose tastes lead them to enter at all upon it, he may +start from this Essay with hints as to the plan and purpose of his +reading which will save him much otherwise blind and fruitless labor. + +This, however, is not all. It is but right also to say that the readers +whose religion is one of extreme orthodoxy, that is, who deem it their +bounden duty to believe exactly and literally as somebody else believed +before them,--such readers will find their orthodoxy often shocked by +the tales which Mr. Dasent has translated, and yet oftener and more +violently by conclusions which Mr. Dasent draws from a comparison of +these stories with others that bear the same relation to other races +which these do to the Norsemen. The man who believes that Hell is a +particular part of the universe, filled with flames and melted +brimstone, into which actual devils, with horns, hoofs, and tails, dip, +or are to dip, wicked people, whom, for greater convenience, they have +previously perforated with three-tined pitchforks,--such a man will be +puzzled by the story, "Why the Sea is Salt," and horrified with this +comment in Mr. Dasent's Essay:-- + + "The North had its own notion on this point. Its mythology + was not without its own dark powers; but though they, too, + were ejected and dispossessed, they, according to that + mythology, had rights of their own. To them belonged all the + universe that had not been seized and reclaimed by the + younger race of Odin and AEsir; and though this upstart + dynasty, as the Frost-Giants in AEschylean phrase would have + called it, well knew that Hel, one of this giant progeny, was + fated to do them all mischief, and to outlive them, they took + her and made her queen of Niflheim, and mistress over nine + worlds. There, in a bitterly cold place, she received the + souls of all who died of sickness or old age; care was her + bed, hunger her dish, starvation her knife. Her walls were + high and strong, and her bolts and bars huge. 'Half blue was + her skin, and half the color of human flesh. A goddess easy + to know, and in all things very stern and grim.' But though + severe, she was not an evil spirit. She only received those + who died as no Norseman wished to die. For those who fell on + the gory battle-field, or sank beneath the waves, Valhalla + was prepared, and endless mirth and bliss with Odin. Those + went to Hel who were rather unfortunate than wicked, who died + before they could be killed. But when Christianity came in + and ejected Odin and his crew of false divinities, declaring + them to be lying gods and demons, then Hel fell with the + rest,--but, fulfilling her fate, outlived them. From a person + she became a place; and all the Northern nations, from the + Goth to the Norseman, agreed in believing Hell to be the + abode of the Devil and his wicked spirits, the place prepared + from the beginning for the everlasting torments of the + damned. One curious fact connected with this explanation of + Hell's origin will not escape the reader's attention. The + Christian notion of Hell is that of a place of heat; for in + the East, whence Christianity came, heat is often an + intolerable torment,--and cold, on the other hand, everything + that is pleasant and delightful. But to the dweller in the + North heat brings with it sensations of joy and comfort, and + life without fire has a dreary outlook; so their Hel ruled in + a cold region, over those who were cowards by implication, + while the mead-cup went round, and huge logs blazed and + crackled, for the brave and beautiful who had dared to die on + the field of battle. But under Christianity the extremes of + heat and cold have met, and Hel, the cold, uncomfortable + goddess, is now our Hell, where flames and fires abound, and + where the devils abide in everlasting flame." + +Still more will orthodoxy be shocked by Mr. Dasent's neglect to except +Christianity from the conclusion, (no new one, it need hardly be said, +to those who know anything of the subject,) that the mythologies or +personal histories of all religions have been evolved the one from the +other, or grafted the one upon the other,--and by his intimation, that +Christianity, keeping pure in its spirit and undiverted from its +purpose, has yet not hesitated to adapt its outward forms to the tough +popular traditions which it found deeply rooted in the soil where it +sought to grow, thus making itself "all things to all men, that it might +by all means save some." + +It will be seen that this book is not milk for babes, but meat for +strong men. Among the tales are some--and those, perhaps, the most +interesting--which Mr. Dasent justly characterizes as "intensely +heathen," and yet in which the Saviour of the world or his apostles +appear as interlocutors or actors, which alone unfits the volume for the +book-table of the household room. We are led to insist upon this trait +of the collection the more, because the translator's choice of language +often seems to be the result of a desire to adapt himself to very +youthful readers,--though why should even they be led to believe that +such phrases as the following are correct by seeing them in +print?--"Tore it up like nothing"; "ran away like anything"; "it was no +good" [_i.e._ of no use]; "in all my born days"; "after a bit" [_i.e._ a +little while]; "she had to let him in, and when he was, he lay," etc.; +"the Giant got up cruelly early." These, and others like them, are +profusely scattered through the tales, apparently from the mistaken +notion that they have some idiomatic force. They jar upon the ear of the +reader who comes to them from Mr. Dasent's admirably written +Introductory Essay. + +The book is one which we can heartily recommend to all who are +interested in popular traditions for their own sake, or in their +ethnological relations. + + * * * * * + +_Love_, From the French of M.J. Michelet. Translated from the Fourth +Paris Edition, by J.W. Palmer, M.D., Author of "The New and The Old," +"Up and Down the Irawaddi," etc. + +M. Michelet perhaps longs, like Anacreon, to tell the story of the +Atrides and of Cadmus, but here we find him singing only of Love. It is +a surprise to us that the historian should have chosen this +subject;--the book itself is another surprise. It starts from a few +facts which it borrows from science, and out of them it builds a +poem,--a drama in five acts called _Books_, to disguise them. Two +characters figure chiefly on the stage,--a husband and a wife. The unity +of time is not very strictly kept, for the pair are traced from youth to +age, and even beyond their mortal years. Moral reflections and +occasional rhapsodies are wreathed about this physiological and +psychological love-drama. + +Here, then, is a book with the most taking word in the language for its +title, and one of the most distinguished personages in contemporary +literature for its author. It has been extensively read in France, and +is attracting general notice in this country. Opinions are divided among +us concerning it; it is extravagantly praised, and hastily condemned. + +On the whole, the book is destined, we believe, to do much more good +than harm. Admit all its high-flown sentimentalism to be +half-unconscious affectation, such as we pardon in writers of the Great +Nation,--admit that the author is wild and fanciful in many of his +statements, that he talks of a state of society of which it has been +said that the law is that a man shall hate his neighbor and love his +neighbor's wife,--admit all this and what lesser faults may be added to +them, its great lessons are on the side of humanity, and especially of +justice to woman, founded on a study of her organic and spiritual +limitations. + +_Woman is an invalid_. This is the first axiom, out of which flow the +precepts of care, bodily and mental, of tenderness, of consideration, +with which the book abounds. To show this, M. Michelet has recourse to +the investigations of the physiologists who during the present century +have studied the special conditions which according to the old axiom +make woman what she is. As nothing short of this can by any possibility +enable us to understand the feminine nature, we must not find fault with +some details not commonly thought adapted to the general reader. They +are given delicately, but they are given, and suggest a certain reserve +in introducing the book to the reading classes. Not only is woman an +invalid, but the _rhythmic character of her life_, "as if scanned by +Nature," is an element not to be neglected without total failure to read +her in health and in disease. There is a great deal relating to this +matter, some of it seeming fanciful and overwrought, but not more so +than the natures of many women. For woman herself is an hyperbole, and +the plainest statement of her condition is a figure of speech. Some of +those chapters that are written, as we might say, in hysteric +paragraphs, only more fitly express the extravagances which belong to +the nervous movements of the woman's nature. + +_The husband must create the wife_. Much of the book is taken up with +the precepts by which this new birth of the woman is to be brought +about, M. Michelet's "entire affection" hateth those "nicer hands" winch +would refuse any, even the humblest offices. The husband should be at +once nurse and physician. He should regulate the food of the body, and +measure out the doses of mental nourishment. All this is kind and good +and affectionate; but there is just a suspicion excited that _Madame_ +might become slightly _ennuyee_, if she were subjected to this minute +surveillance over her physical and spiritual hygiene. Everything must +depend on individual tendencies and aptitudes; we have known husbands +that were born for nurses,--and others, not less affectionate, that +worried more than they helped in that capacity. + +We cannot follow M. Michelet through his study of the reaction of the +characters of the husband and wife upon each other, of the influence of +maternity on conjugal relations, of the languishing of love and its +rejuvenescence. Still less can we do more than remotely allude to those +chapters in which his model woman is represented as ready on the +slightest occasion to prove the name of her sex synonymous with frailty. +We really do not know what to make of such things. The cool calculations +of temptation as certain, and failure as probable,--the serious advice +not to strike a wife under any circumstances,--such words have literally +no meaning to most of our own American readers. Our women are educated +to self-reliance,--and our men are, at least, too busy for the trade of +tempters. + +In a word, this book was written for French people, and is adjusted to +the meridian of Paris. We must remember this always in reading it, and +also remember that a Frenchman does not think English any more than he +_talks_ it. We sometimes flatter ourselves with the idea that we as a +people are original in our tendency to extravagance of thought and +language. It is a conceit of ours. Remember Sterne's _perruquier_. + +"'You may immerge it,' replied he, 'into the ocean, and it will stand.' + +"'What a great scale is everything upon, in this city!' thought I. 'The +utmost stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas could have gone no +farther than to have dipped it into a pail of water.'" + + * * * * * + +How much such experiences as the following amount to we must leave to +the ecclesiastical bodies to settle. + +"The Church is openly against her, [woman,] owing her a grudge for the +sin of Eve." + +"It is very easy for us, educated in the religion of the indulgent God +of Nature, to look our common destiny in the face. But she, impressed +with the dogma of eternal punishment, though she may have received other +ideas from you, still, in her suffering and debility, has painful +foreshadowings of the future state." + +But here are physiological statements which we take the liberty to +question on our own responsibility. + +"A French girl of fifteen is as mature as an English one of eighteen." +What will Mr. Roberton of Manchester, who has exploded so many of our +fancies about the women of the East, say to this? + +"A wound, for which the German woman would require surgical aid, in the +French woman cures itself." We must say of such an unproved assertion as +the French General said of the charge at Balaklava,--"_C'est magnifique, +mais ce n'est pas la_"--_medecine_. + +"Generally, she [woman] is sick from love,--man, from indigestion." What +a pity Nature never makes such pretty epigrams with her facts as wits do +with their words! + +We have enough, too, of that self-assertion which Carlyle and Ruskin and +some of our clerical neighbors have made us familiar with, and which +gives flavor to a work of genius. "I was worth more than my writings, +more than my discourses. I brought to this teaching of philosophy and +history a soul as yet entire,--a great freshness of mind, under forms +often subtle,--a true simplicity of heart," etc. + +M. Michelet does not undervalue the importance of his work. He thinks he +has ruined the dancing-gardens by the startling revelations respecting +woman contained in his book. He announces a still greater triumph:--"I +believe I have effectually suppressed old women. They will no longer be +met with." M. Michelet has not seen the columns of some of our weekly +newspapers. + +These are scales from the husk of his book, which, with all its +fantasies, is a generous plea for woman. Wise persons may safely read +it, though they be not Parisians. + +The translation is, and is generally considered, excellent. We notice +two errors,--_Jerres_, instead of _Serres_,--and _would_, for _should_, +after the Scotch and Southern provincial fashion;--with some +questionable words, as _reliable_, for which we have Sir Robert Peel's +authority, which cannot make it as honest a word as _trustworthy_,-- +_masculize_, which is at least intelligible,--and _fast_, used as +college-boys use it in their loose talk, but not with the meaning which +sober scholars are wont to give it. With these slight exceptions, the +translation appears to us singularly felicitous, notwithstanding the +task must have been very difficult, which Dr. Palmer has performed with +such rare success. + + * * * * * + +_Farm-Drainage_. The Principles, Processes, and Effects of Draining +Land, with Wood, Stones, Ploughs, and Open Ditches, and especially with +Tiles; including Tables of Rainfall, Evaporation, Filtration, +Excavation, Capacity of Pipes; Cost, and Number to the Acre, of Tiles, +etc., etc.; and more than One Hundred Illustrations. By HENRY E. FRENCH. +New York: A.O. Moore & Co. 1859. 8vo. pp. 384. + +We remember standing, thirty years ago, upon the cupola of a court-house +in New Jersey, and, while enjoying the whole panorama, being +particularly impressed with the superior fertility and luxuriance of one +farm on the outskirts of the town. We recollect further, that, on +inquiry, we found this farm to belong to a Judge of the Court of Common +Pleas, who also exercised the trade of a potter, and underdrained his +land with tile-drains. His neighbors attributed the improvement in his +farm to manure and tillage, and thought his attempts to introduce +tile-drains into use arose chiefly from his desire to make a market for +his tiles. Thirty years have made a great change; and a New Hampshire +Judge of the Court of Common Pleas gives us a book on Farm-Drainage +which tells us that in England twenty millions of dollars have been +loaned by the government to be used in underdraining with tile! + +We believe that Judge French has given the first practical guide in +draining to the American farmer,--indeed, the first book professing to +be a complete practical guide to the farmers of any country. His right +to speak is derived from successful experiments of his own, from a visit +to European agriculturists, and from a personal correspondence with the +best drainage-engineers of England and America, as well as from the +study of all available magazines and journals. No one could handle the +subject in a more pleasant and lucid style; flashes of wit, and even of +humor, are sparkling through every chapter, but they never divert the +mind of the reader from the main purpose of elucidating the subject of +deep drainage. The title-page does not promise so much as the book +performs; and we feel confident that its reputation will increase, as +our farmers begin to understand the true effects of deep drainage on +upland, and seek for a guide in the improvement of their farms. + +The rain-tables, furnished by Dr. E. Hobbs, of Waltham, afford some very +interesting statistics, by which our climate may be definitely compared +with that of our mother country. In England, they have about 156 rainy +days _per annum_, and we but 56. In England, one inch in 24 hours is +considered a great rain; but in New England six inches and seven-eighths +(6.88) has been known to fall in 24 hours. In England, the annual fall +is about 21,--in New England, 42 inches. The experiments on the +retention of water by the soil are also interesting; showing that +ordinary arable soil is capable of holding nearly six inches of water in +every foot of soil. + +Not the least valuable portion of the book is a brief discussion of some +of the legal questions connected with drainage; the rights of +land-owners in running waters, and in reference to the water in the +soil; the rights of mill-owners and water-power companies; and the +subject of flowage, by which so many thousand acres of valuable arable +land are ruined to support unprofitable manufacturing companies. The +rights of agriculturists, and the interests of agriculture, demand the +care of our governments, and the hearty aid of our scientific men; and +we are glad to find a judge who, at least when off the bench, speaks +sound words in their behalf. + +Agriculture in the Atlantic States is beginning to attract the attention +which its great importance demands. Thorough draining is, as yet, little +used among us, but a beginning has been made; and Judge French's book +will, doubtless, be of value in extension of the practice. If any reader +has not yet heard what thorough draining is, we would say, in brief, +that it consists in laying tile-pipes, from one and a half to three +inches in diameter, four feet under ground, at from twenty to sixty feet +apart, so inclined as to drain out of your ground all the water that may +be within three feet of the surface. This costs from $30 to $60 per +acre, and is in almost all kinds of arable land an excellent investment +of capital,--making the spring earlier, the land warmer, rain less +injurious, drought less severe, the crops better in quality and greater +in quantity. In short, thorough draining is, as our author says, +following Cromwell's advice, "trusting in Providence, but keeping the +powder dry." + + * * * * * + +_The Novels of James Fenimore Cooper_. Illustrated with Steel Engravings +from Drawings by Darley. New York: W.A. Townsend & Co. + +The British Museum, it is said, has accumulated over twenty-seven +thousand novels written since the publication of "Waverley." With the +general diffusion of education the ambition of authorship has had a +corresponding increase; and people who were not inspired to make rhymes, +nor learned enough to undertake history, philosophy, or science, as well +as those who despaired of success in essays, travels, or sermons, have +all thought themselves capable of representing human life in the form of +fiction. Very few of the twenty-seven thousand, probably, are wholly +destitute of merit. Each author has drawn what he saw, or knew, or did, +or imagined; and so has preserved something worthy, for those who live +upon his plane and see the world with his eyes. The difficulty is, that +the vision of most men is limited; they observe human nature only in a +few of its many aspects; they cannot so far lift themselves above the +trivial affairs around them as to take in the whole of humanity at a +glance. Even when rare types of character are presented to view, it is +only a genius who can for the time assimilate himself to them, and so +make their portraits life-like upon his canvas. In every old-fashioned +town there are models for new Dogberrys and Edie Ochiltrees; our +seaports have plenty of Bunsbys; every great city has its Becky Sharpe +and Major Pendennis. One has only to listen to a group of Irish laborers +in their unrestrained talk to find that the delicious _non sequitur_, +which is the charm of the grave-diggers' conversation in "Hamlet," is by +no means obsolete. But who can write such a colloquy? It would be +easier, we fancy, for a clever man to give a sketch of Lord Bacon, with +all his rapid and profound generalization, than to follow the slow and +tortuous mental processes of a clodhopper. + +To secure the attention of his readers, the novelist must construct a +plot and create the characters whose movements shall produce the +designed catastrophe, and, by the incidents and dialogue, exhibit the +passions, the virtues, the aspirations, the weaknesses, and the villany +of human nature. It is needless to say that most characters in fiction +are as shadowy as Ossian's ghosts; the proof is, that, when the +incidents of the story have passed out of memory, the persons are +likewise forgotten. Of all the popular novelists, not more than half a +dozen have ever created characters that survive,--characters that are +felt to be "representative men." After Shakspeare and Scott, Dickens +comes first, unquestionably; although, in analysis, philosophy, force, +and purity of style, he is far inferior to Thackeray. Parson Adams will +not be forgotten, nor that gentle monogamist, the good Vicar of +Wakefield. But as for Bulwer, notwithstanding his wonderful art in +construction and the brilliancy of his style, who remembers a character +out of his novels, unless it be Doctor Riccabocca? + +After this rather long preamble, let us hasten to say, that Cooper, in +spite of many and the most obvious faults, has succeeded in portraying a +few characters which stand out in bold relief,--and that his works, +after years of criticism and competition, still hold their place, on +both continents, among the most delightful novels in the language. Other +writers have appeared, with more culture, with more imagination, with +more spiritual insight, with more attractiveness of style; but +Leatherstocking, in the virgin forest, with the crafty, painted savage +retreating before him, and the far-distant hum of civilization following +his trail, is a creation which no reader ever can or would forget,--a +creation for which the merely accomplished writer would gladly exchange +all the fine sentences and word-pictures that he had ever put on paper. +It is also due to Cooper to say, that "The Pilot" was the first, and +still is the best, of nautical novels; we say this in fell recollection +of its trace of stupid heroines. The very air of the book is salt. As +you read, you hear the wind in the rigging,--a sound that one never +forgets. The form and motion of waves, the passing of distant ships, the +outlines of spars and cordage against the sky, the blue above and the +blue below, all the scenery of the sea, here for the first time found an +appreciative artist. + +We have not space to mention these novels separately. We are glad to see +an edition which is worthy of the author's genius,--each volume graced +with the designs of Darley. The style in which the work has been issued +is creditable to the publishers, and cannot fail to be remunerative. + + * * * * * + +_Ettore Fieramosca; or, the Challenge of Barletta_. The Struggles of an +Italian against Foreign Invaders and Foreign Protectors. By MASSIMO D' +AZEGLIO. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, & Co. 16mo. + +The recent war led to the publication of a great number of books upon +the state of Italy and the relative positions of the contending powers; +now that the wave has receded, all these are left high and dry. This +novel, however, does not depend upon any transient interest in the +affairs of Italy for its success. As the production of an eminent +author, who is also one of the first of Italian statesmen, it demands a +respectful consideration. The condition of the country in the sixteenth +century presents a striking counterpart to that of the present year: two +foreign monarchs were at war in the Peninsula; and then, as now, it was +a question whether unhappy Italy had not as much to fear from her allies +as from her invaders. + +The scene of the story is laid in the little town of Barletta, on the +Adriatic coast, in the present kingdom of Naples. The action turns upon +the fortunes of the day in a contest _a l'outrance_, wherein a dozen +French knights, the flower of the invading army, were met and vanquished +by an equal number of Italians, of whom the hero, Ettore Fieramosca, was +the chief. The English reader will not expect to find in this book any +of the traits with which he is familiar in the novels of our own +authors. There is little scenery-painting, few wayside reflections, and +no attempt at portraying the comic side of human nature, or even the +ordinary gayety of domestic life. The times did not suggest such topics; +and if they did, we suspect that the Italian novelists would turn from +such commonplace affairs to the more stirring events with which History +has been heretofore concerned. But the story before us has no lack of +incident. When the persons of the drama are fairly brought upon the +stage, the action begins at once; surprise follows surprise, plot is +matched by plot, until the fortunes of the actors are entwined +inextricably. The portraits of the famous Colonna and of the infamous +Caesar Borgia (the latter being the arch "villain" of the story) are +drawn in sharp and decisive lines. The tournament which forms the scene +of the catastrophe is a brilliant picture, though not a pleasing one for +a Friend or a member of the Peace Society. + +Of course the element of Love is not wanting; two golden threads run +through the crimsoned web; but whether they meet before Atropos comes +with the fatal shears, it is not best to say. When the modern +novel-reader can answer the momentous question, "Did they marry?" the +charm of the most exciting story, for him, is gone. + +Aside from the interest which one feels in the changing fortunes of the +hero, the book is especially valuable for the light it throws upon that +period of Italian history, and upon the subtilties of Italian character. + + + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS. + + +The Goodness of God. Sermons by Charles Kingsley. New York. Burt, +Hutchinson, & Abbey. 12mo. pp. 370. $1.00. + +Theodore Parker's Experience as a Minister; with some Account of his +Early Life and Education for the Ministry. Contained in a Letter from +him to the Members of the Twenty-Eighth Congregationalist Society of +Boston. Boston. Rufus Leighton, Jr. 16mo. pp. 182. 50 cts. + +The Roman Question. By E. About. Translated from the French, by H.C. +Coape. New York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 219. 60 cts. + +Tent and Harem. Notes of an Oriental Trip. By Caroline Paine. New York. +D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 300. $1.00. + +The French Revolution of 1789, as viewed in the Light of Republican +Institutions. By J.S.C. Abbott. With One Hundred Engravings. New York. +Harper & Brothers. 8vo. pp. 439. $2.50. + +Popular Tales from the Norse. By George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L. With an +Introductory Essay on the Origin and Diffusion of Popular Tales. New +York. D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 379. $1.00. + +Personal Recollections of the American Revolution. A Private Journal. +Prepared from Authentic Domestic Records. Together with Reminiscences of +Washington and Lafayette. Edited by Sidney Barclay. New York. 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