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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 15, No. 91, May, 1865 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: January 5, 2010 [EBook #30862] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, MAY 1865 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by Cornell University Digital Collections.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span></p> + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h1>ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1> + +<h2><i>A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics.</i></h2> + +<h3>VOL. XV.—MAY, 1865.—NO. XCI.</h3> + +<p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by <span class="smcap">Ticknor and +Fields</span>, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of +Massachusetts.</p> + +<p class="notes">Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved +to the end of the article. Table of contents has been created for the HTML version.</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#WITH_THE_BIRDS"><b>WITH THE BIRDS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GOLD_EGG_A_DREAM-FANTASY"><b>GOLD EGG.—A DREAM-FANTASY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#OUT_OF_THE_SEA"><b>OUT OF THE SEA.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MY_STUDENT_LIFE_AT_HOFWYL"><b>MY STUDENT LIFE AT HOFWYL.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_GRAVE_BY_THE_LAKE"><b>THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ICE_AND_ESQUIMAUX"><b>ICE AND ESQUIMAUX.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#NOTES_OF_A_PIANIST"><b>NOTES OF A PIANIST.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#DIPLOMACY_OF_THE_REVOLUTION"><b>DIPLOMACY OF THE REVOLUTION.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#OUR_BATTLE-LAUREATE"><b>OUR BATTLE-LAUREATE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#DOCTOR_JOHNS"><b>DOCTOR JOHNS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_CHIMNEY-CORNER"><b>THE CHIMNEY-CORNER.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#NEEDLE_AND_GARDEN"><b>NEEDLE AND GARDEN.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CASTLES"><b>CASTLES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FAIR_PLAY_THE_BEST_POLICY"><b>FAIR PLAY THE BEST POLICY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"><b>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS"><b>RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WITH_THE_BIRDS" id="WITH_THE_BIRDS"></a>WITH THE BIRDS.</h2> + + +<p>Not in the spirit of exact science, but rather with the freedom of love +and old acquaintance, would I celebrate some of the minstrels of the +field and forest,—these accredited and authenticated poets of Nature.</p> + +<p>All day, while the rain has pattered and murmured, have I heard the +notes of the Robin and the Wood-Thrush; the Red-Eyed Flycatcher has +pursued his game within a few feet of my window, darting with a low, +complacent warble amid the dripping leaves, looking as dry and unruffled +as if a drop of rain had never touched him; the Cat-Bird has flirted and +attitudinized on my garden-fence; the House-Wren stopped a moment +between the showers, and indulged in a short, but spirited, rehearsal +under a large leaf in the grape-arbor; the King-Bird advised me of his +proximity, as he went by on his mincing flight; and the Chimney-Swallows +have been crying the child's riddle of "<i>Chippy, chippy, cherryo</i>," +about the house-top.</p> + +<p>With these angels and ministers of grace thus to attend me, even in the +seclusion of my closet, I am led more than ever to expressions of love +and admiration. I understand the enthusiasm of Wilson and Audubon, and +see how one might forsake house and home and go and live with them the +free life of the woods.</p> + +<p>To the dissecting, classifying scientist a bird may be no more perfect +or lovable than a squirrel or a fish; yet to me it seems that all the +excellences of the animal creation converge and centre in this nymph of +the air; a warbler seems to be the finishing stroke.</p> + +<p>First, there is its light, delicate, aërial organization,—consequently, +its vivacity, its high temperature, the depth and rapidity of its +inspirations, and likewise the intense, gushing, lyrical character of +its life. How hot he is! how fast he lives!—as if his air had more +oxygen than ours, or his body less clay. How slight a wound kills him! +how exquisite his sensations! how perfect his nervous system! and hence +how large his brain! Why, look at the cerebral development of this tiny +songster,—almost a third larger, in proportion to the size of its body, +than that of Shakspeare even! Does it mean nothing? You may observe that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span>a warbler has a much larger brain and a much finer cerebral +organization throughout than a bird of prey, or any of the Picus family +even. Does it signify nothing? I gaze into the eyes of the +Gazelle,—eyes that will admit of no epithet or comparison,—and the old +question of preëxistence and transmigration rises afresh in my mind, and +something like a dim recognition of kinship passes. I turn this Thrush +in my hand,—I remember its strange ways, the curious look it gave me, +its ineffable music, its freedom, and its ecstasy,—and I tremble lest I +have slain a being diviner than myself.</p> + +<p>And then there is its freedom, its superior powers of locomotion, its +triumph over time and space. The reptile measures its length upon the +ground; the quadruped enjoys a more complete liberation, and is related +to the earth less closely; man more still; and the bird most of all. +Over our heads, where our eyes travel, but our bodies follow not,—in +the free native air,—is his home. The trees are his temples and his +dwellings, and the breezes sing his lullaby. He needs no sheltering; for +the rain does not wet him. He need fear no cold; for the tropics wait +upon his wings. He is the nearest visible representation of a spirit I +know of. He <i>flies</i>,—the superlative of locomotion; the poet in his +most audacious dreams dare confer no superior power on flesh and blood. +Sound and odor are no more native to the air than is the Swallow. Look +at this marvellous creature! He can reverse the order of the seasons, +and almost keep the morning or the sunset constantly in his eye, or +outstrip the west-wind cloud. Does he subsist upon air or odor, that he +is forever upon the wing, and never deigns to pick a seed or crumb from +the earth? Is he an embodied thought projected from the brain of some +mad poet in the dim past, and sent to teach us a higher geometry of +curves and spirals? See him with that feather high in air, dropping it +and snapping it up again in the very glee of superabundant vitality, and +in his sudden evolutions and spiral gambollings seeming more a creature +of the imagination than of actual sight!</p> + +<p>And, again, their coming and going, how curious and suggestive! We go +out in the morning, and no Thrush or Vireo is to be heard; we go out +again, and every tree and grove is musical; yet again, and all is +silent. Who saw them come? who saw them depart? This pert little +Winter-Wren, for instance, darting in and out the fence, diving under +the rubbish here and coming up yards away,—how does he manage with +those little circular wings to compass degrees and zones, and arrive +always in the nick of time? Last August I saw him in the remotest wilds +of the Adirondack, impatient and inquisitive as usual; a few weeks +later, on the Potomac, I was greeted by the same hardy little busybody. +Does he travel by easy stages from bush to bush and from wood to wood? +or has that compact little body force and courage to brave the night and +the upper air, and so achieve leagues at one pull? And yonder Bluebird, +with the hue of the Bermuda sky upon his back, as Thoreau would say, and +the flush of its dawn upon his breast,—did he come down out of heaven +on that bright March morning when he told us so softly and plaintively, +that, if we pleased, spring had come?</p> + +<p>About the middle of September I go out in the woods, and am attracted by +a faint piping and lisping in the tops of the Oaks and Chestnuts. Tiny +figures dart to and fro so rapidly that it pains the eye to follow them, +and I discover that the Black-Poll Warbler is paying me a return visit. +Presently I likewise perceive a troop of Redstarts, or Green-Backed +Warblers, or Golden and Ruby-Crowned Wrens, flashing through the +Chestnut-branches, or hanging like jewels on the Cedar-sprays. A week of +two later, and my darlings are gone, another love is in my heart, and +other voices fill my ears. But so unapparent and mysterious are the +coming and going, that I look upon each as a special Providence, and +value them as visitants from another sphere.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span></p> + +<p>The migration of the Pigeons, Ducks, and Geese is obvious enough; we see +them stream across the heavens, or hear their <i>clang</i> in the night; but +these minstrels of the field and forest add to their other charms a +shade of mystery, and pique the imagination by their invisible and +unknown journeyings. To be sure, we know they follow the opening season +north and the retreating summer south; but who will point to the +parallels that mark the limits of their wandering, or take us to their +most secret haunts?</p> + +<p>What greater marvel than this simple gift of music? What beside birds +and the human species sing? It is the crowning gift; through it the +field and forest are justified. Nature said, "These rude forms and +forces must have a spokesman of their own nursing; here are flowers and +odor, let there be music also." I suspect the subtile spirit of the +meadow took form in the Bobolink, that the high pasture-lands begot the +Vesper-Sparrow, and that from the imprisoned sense and harmony of the +forests sprang the Wood-Thrush.</p> + +<p>From the life of birds being on a more intense and vehement scale than +that of other animals result their musical gifts and their holiday +expression of joy. How restless and curious they are! Their poise and +attitudes, how various, rapid, and graceful! They are a study for an +artist, especially as exhibited in the Warblers and Flycatchers: their +looks of alarm, of curiosity, of repose, of watchfulness, of joy, so +obvious and expressive, yet as impossible of reproduction as their +music. Even if the naturalist were to succeed in imparting all their +wild extravagances of poise and motion to their inanimate forms, his +birds, to say the least, would have a very theatrical or melodramatic +aspect, and seem unreal in proportion to their fidelity to Nature. I +have seen a Blue Jay alone, saluting and admiring himself in the mirror +of a little pool of water from a low overhanging branch, assume so many +graceful, novel, as well as ridiculous and fantastic attitudes, as would +make a taxidermist run mad to attempt to reproduce; and the rich medley +of notes he poured forth at the same time—chirping, warbling, cooing, +whistling, chattering, revealing rare musical and imitative +powers—would have been an equally severe test to the composer who +should have aspired to report them; and the indignant air of outraged +privacy he assumed, on finding himself discovered, together with his +loud, angry protest, as, with crown depressed and plumage furled, he +rapidly ascended to the topmost branch of a tall Birch, the better to +proclaim my perfidy to the whole world, would have excited the interest +and applause of the coolest observer.</p> + +<p>So much in a general sense; but let me discriminate; "for my purpose +holds" to call my favorites by name, and point them out to you, as the +tuneful procession passes.</p> + +<p>Every stage of the advancing season gives prominence to certain birds as +to certain flowers. The Dandelion tells me when to look for the Swallow, +and I know the Thrushes will not linger when the Orchis is in bloom. In +my latitude, April is emphatically the month of the Robin. In large +numbers they scour the fields and groves. You hear their piping in the +meadow, in the pasture, on the hillside. Walk in the woods, and the dry +leaves rustle with the whir of their wings, the air is vocal with their +cheery call. In excess of joy and vivacity, they run, leap, scream, +chase each other through the air, diving and sweeping among the trees +with perilous rapidity.</p> + +<p>In that free, fascinating, half-work and half-play +pursuit,—sugar-making,—a pursuit which still lingers in many parts of +New York, as in New England, the Robin is one's boon companion. When the +day is sunny and the ground bare, you meet him at all points and hear +him at all hours. At sunset, on the tops of the tall Maples, with look +heavenward, and in a spirit of utter abandonment, he carols his simple +strain. And sitting thus amid the stark, silent trees, above the wet, +cold earth, with the chill of winter still in the air, there is no +fitter or sweeter songster in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> whole round year. It is in keeping +with the scene and the occasion. How round and genuine the notes are, +and how eagerly our ears drink them in! The first utterance, and the +spell of winter is thoroughly broken and the remembrance of it afar off.</p> + +<p>Robin is one of the most native and democratic of our birds; he is one +of the family, and seems much nearer to us than those rare, exotic +visitants, as the Orchard-Starling or Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, with their +distant, high-bred ways. Hardy, noisy, frolicsome, neighborly and +domestic in his ways, strong of wing and bold in spirit, he is the +pioneer of the Thrush family, and well worthy of the finer artists whose +coming he heralds and in a measure prepares us for.</p> + +<p>I could wish Robin less native and plebeian in one respect,—the +building of his nest. Its coarse material and rough masonry are +creditable neither to his skill as a workman nor to his taste as an +artist. I am the more forcibly reminded of his deficiency in this +respect from observing yonder Humming-Bird's nest, which is a marvel of +fitness and adaptation, a proper setting for this winged gem,—the body +of it composed of a white, felt-like substance, probably the down of +some plant or the wool of some worm, and toned down in keeping with the +branch on which it sits by minute tree-lichens, woven together by +threads as fine and frail as gossamer. From Robin's good looks and +musical turn we might reasonably predict a domicil of equal fitness and +elegance. At least I demand of him as clean and handsome a nest as the +King-Bird's, whose harsh jingle, compared with Robin's evening melody, +is as the clatter of pots and kettles beside the tone of a flute. I love +his note and ways better even than those of the Orchard-Starling or the +Baltimore Oriole; yet his nest, compared with theirs, is a +half-subterranean hut contrasted with a Roman villa. There is something +courtly and poetical in a pensile nest. Next to a castle in the air is a +dwelling suspended to the slender branch of a tall tree, swayed and +rocked forever by the wind. Why need wings be afraid of falling? Why +build only where boys can climb? After all, we must set it down to the +account of Robin's democratic turn; he is no aristocrat, but one of the +people; and therefore we should expect stability in his workmanship, +rather than elegance.</p> + +<p>Another April bird, which makes her appearance sometimes earlier and +sometimes later than Robin, and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the +Ph[oe]be-Bird, (<i>Muscicapa nunciola</i>,) the pioneer of the Flycatchers. +In the inland farming districts, I used to notice her, on some bright +morning about Easter-day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of +motion and attitude, from the peak of the barn or hay-shed. As yet, you +may have heard only the plaintive, homesick note of the Bluebird, or the +faint trill of the Song-Sparrow; and Ph[oe]be's clear, vivacious +assurance of her veritable bodily presence among us again is welcomed by +all ears. At agreeable intervals in her lay she describes a circle or an +ellipse in the air, ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I +suspect, as an artistic flourish, thrown in to make up in some way for +the deficiency of her musical performance. If plainness of dress +indicates powers of song, as it usually does, then Ph[oe]be ought to be +unrivalled in musical ability, for surely that ashen-gray suit is the +superlative of plainness; and that form, likewise, though it might pass +for the "perfect figure" of a bird, measured by Joe Gargery's standard, +to a fastidious taste would present exceptionable points. The +seasonableness of her coming, however, and her civil, neighborly ways, +shall make up for all deficiencies in song and plumage, and remove any +suspicions we may have had, that, perhaps, from some cause or other, she +was in some slight disfavor with Nature. After a few weeks Ph[oe]be is +seldom seen, except as she darts from her moss-covered nest beneath some +bridge or shelving cliff.</p> + +<p>Another April comer, who arrives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> shortly after Robin-Redbreast, with +whom he associates both at this season and in the autumn, is the +Golden-Winged Woodpecker, <i>alias</i>, "High-Hole," <i>alias</i>, "Flicker," +<i>alias</i>, "Yarup." He is an old favorite of my boyhood, and his note to +me means very much. He announces his arrival by a long, loud call, +repeated from the dry branch of some tree, or a stake in the fence,—a +thoroughly melodious April sound. I think how Solomon finished that +beautiful climax on Spring, "And the voice of the turtle is heard in our +land," and see that a description of Spring in this farming country, to +be equally characteristic, should culminate in like manner,—"And the +call of the High-Hole comes up from the wood."</p> + +<p>It is a loud, strong, sonorous call, and does not seem to imply an +answer, but rather to subserve some purpose of love or music. It is +"Yarup's" proclamation of peace and good-will to all. On looking at the +matter closely, I perceive that most birds, not denominated songsters, +have, in the spring, some note or sound or call that hints of a song, +and answers imperfectly the end of beauty and art. As a "brighter iris +comes upon the burnished dove," and the fancy of the young man turns +lightly to thoughts of his pretty cousin, so the same renewing spirit +touches the "silent singers," and they are no longer dumb; faintly they +lisp the first syllables of the marvellous tale. Witness the clear, +sweet whistle of the Gray-Crested Titmouse,—the soft, nasal piping of +the Nuthatch,—the amorous, vivacious warble of the Bluebird,—the long, +rich note of the Meadow-Lark,—the whistle of the Quail,—the drumming +of the Partridge,—the animation and loquacity of the Swallows, and the +like. Even the Hen has a homely, contented carol; and I credit the Owls +with a desire to fill the night with music. All birds are incipient or +would-be songsters in the spring. I find corroborative evidence of this +even in the crowing of the Cock. The flowering of the Maple is not so +obvious as that of the Magnolia; nevertheless, there is actual +inflorescence. Neither Wilson nor Audubon, I believe, awards any song to +that familiar little Sparrow, the <i>Socialis</i>; yet who that has observed +him sitting by the wayside, and repeating, with devout attitude, that +fine sliding chant, does not recognize the neglect? Who has heard the +Snow-Bird sing? Not the ornithologist, it seems; yet he has a lisping +warble very savory to the ear, I have heard him indulge in it even in +February.</p> + +<p>Even the Cow-Bunting feels the musical tendency, and aspires to its +expression, with the rest. Perched upon the topmost branch beside his +mate or mates,—for he is quite a polygamist, and usually has two or +three demure little ladies in faded black beside him,—generally in the +early part of the day, he seems literally to vomit up his notes. +Apparently with much labor and effort, they gurgle and blubber up out of +him, falling on the ear with a peculiar subtile ring, as of turning +water from a glass jug, and not without a certain pleasing cadence.</p> + +<p>Neither is the common Woodpecker entirely insensible to the wooing of +the spring, and, like the Partridge, testifies his appreciation of +melody after quite a primitive fashion. Passing through the woods, on +some clear, still morning in March, while the metallic ring and tension +of winter are still in the earth and air, the silence is suddenly broken +by long, resonant hammering upon a dry limb or stub. It is Downy beating +a reveille to Spring. In the utter stillness and amid the rigid forms we +listen with pleasure, and as it comes to my ear oftener at this season +than at any other, I freely exonerate the author of it from the +imputation of any gastronomic motives, and credit him with a genuine +musical performance.</p> + +<p>It is to be expected, therefore, that "Yellow-Hammer" will respond to +the general tendency, and contribute his part to the spring chorus. His +April call is his finest touch, his most musical expression.</p> + +<p>I recall an ancient Maple standing sentry to a large Sugar-Bush, that, +year after year, afforded protection, to a brood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> of Yellow-Hammers in +its decayed heart. A week or two before the nesting seemed actually to +have begun, three or four of these birds might be seen, on almost any +bright morning, gambolling and courting amid its decayed branches. +Sometimes you would hear only a gentle, persuasive cooing, or a quiet, +confidential chattering,—then that long, loud call, taken up by first +one, then another, as they sat about upon the naked limbs,—anon, a sort +of wild, rollicking laughter, intermingled with various cries, yelps, +and squeals, as if some incident had excited their mirth and ridicule. +Whether this social hilarity and boisterousness is in celebration of the +pairing or mating ceremony, or whether it is only a sort of annual +"house-warming" common among High-Holes on resuming their summer +quarters, is a question upon which I reserve my judgment.</p> + +<p>Unlike most of his kinsmen, the Golden-Wing prefers the fields and the +borders of the forest to the deeper seclusion of the woods,—and hence, +contrary to the habit of his tribe, obtains most of his subsistence from +the ground, boring for ants and crickets. He is not quite satisfied with +being a Woodpecker. He courts the society of the Robin and the Finches, +abandons the trees for the meadow, and feeds eagerly upon berries and +grain. What may be the final upshot of this course of living is a +question worthy the attention of Darwin. Will his taking to the ground +and his pedestrian feats result in lengthening his legs, his feeding +upon berries and grains subdue his tints and soften his voice, and his +associating with Robin put a song into his heart?</p> + +<p>Indeed, what would be more interesting than the history of our birds for +the last two or three centuries? There can be no doubt that the presence +of man has exerted a very marked and friendly influence upon them, since +they so multiply in his society. The birds of California, it is said, +were mostly silent till after its settlement, and I doubt if the Indians +heard the Wood-Thrush as we hear him. Where did the Bobolink disport +himself before there were meadows in the North and rice-fields in the +South? Was he the same blithe, merry-hearted beau then as now? And the +Sparrow, the Lark, and the Goldfinch, birds that seem so indigenous to +the open fields and so averse to the woods,—we cannot conceive of their +existence in a vast wilderness and without man. Did they grow, like the +flowers, when the conditions favorable to their existence were +established?</p> + +<p>But to return. The Bluebird and Song-Sparrow, these universal favorites +and firstlings of the spring, come before April, and their names are +household words.</p> + +<p>May is the month of the Swallows and the Orioles. There are many other +distinguished arrivals, indeed nine tenths of the birds are here by the +last week in May, yet the Swallows and Orioles are the most conspicuous. +The bright plumage of the latter seems really like an arrival from the +tropics. I see them flash through the blossoming trees, and all the +forenoon hear their incessant warbling and wooing. The Swallows dive and +chatter about the barn, or squeak and build beneath the eaves; the +Partridge drums in the fresh unfolding woods; the long, tender note of +the Meadow-Lark comes up from the meadow; and at sunset, from every +marsh and pond come the ten thousand voices of the Hylas. May is the +transition month, and exists to connect April and June, the root with +the flower.</p> + +<p>With June the cup is full, our hearts are satisfied, there is no more to +be desired. The perfection of the season, among other things, has +brought the perfection of the song and plumage of the birds. The master +artists are all here; and the expectations excited by the Robin and the +Song-Sparrow are fully justified. The Thrushes have all come; and I sit +down upon the first rock, with hands full of the pink Azalea, to listen. +With me, the Cuckoo does not arrive till June; and often the Goldfinch, +the King-Bird, the Scarlet Tanager delay their coming till then. In the +meadows the Bobolink is in all his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> glory; in the high pastures the +Field-Sparrow sings his breezy vesper-hymn; and the woods are unfolding +to the music of the Thrushes.</p> + +<p>The Cuckoo is one of the most solitary birds of our forests, and is +strangely tame and quiet, appearing equally untouched by joy or grief, +fear or anger. Is he an exile from some other sphere, and are his +loneliness and indifference the result of a hopeless, yet resigned soul? +Or has he passed through some terrible calamity or bereavement, that has +overpowered his sensibilities, rendering him dreamy and semi-conscious? +Something remote seems ever weighing upon his mind. He deposits his eggs +in the nests of other birds, having no heart for work or domestic care. +His note or call is as of one lost or wandering, and the farmer says is +prophetic of rain. Amid the general joy and the sweet assurance of +things, I love to listen to this strange clairvoyant call. Heard a +quarter of a mile away, coming up from the dark bosom of the forest or +out from the sombre recesses of the mountain, like the voice of a +muezzin calling to prayer in the Oriental twilight, it has a peculiar +fascination. He wanders from place to place,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"An invisible thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice, a mystery."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You will probably hear him a score of times to seeing him once. I rarely +discover him in the woods, except when on a protracted stay; but when in +June he makes his gastronomic tour of the garden and orchard, regaling +himself upon canker-worms, he is quite noticeable. Since food of some +kind is a necessity, he seems resolved to burden himself as little as +possible with the care of obtaining it, and so devours these creeping +horrors with the utmost matter-of-course air. At this time he is one of +the tamest birds in the orchard, and will allow you to approach within a +few yards of him. I have even come within a few feet of one without +seeming to excite his fear or suspicion. He is quite unsophisticated, or +else royally indifferent.</p> + +<p>Without any exception, his plumage is the richest brown I am acquainted +with in Nature, and is unsurpassed in the qualities both of firmness and +fineness. Notwithstanding the disparity in size and color, he has +certain peculiarities that remind one of the Passenger-pigeon. His eye, +with its red circle, the shape of his head, and his motions on alighting +and taking flight, quickly suggest the resemblance; though in grace and +speed, when on the wing, he is far inferior. His tail seems +disproportionately long, like that of the Red Thrush, and his flight +among the trees is very still, contrasting strongly with the honest +clatter of the Robin or Pigeon.</p> + +<p>Have you heard the song of the Field-Sparrow? If you have lived in a +pastoral country with broad upland pastures, you could hardly have +missed him. Wilson, I believe, calls him the Grass-Finch, and was +evidently unacquainted with his powers of song. The two white lateral +quills in his tail, and his habit of running and skulking a few yards in +advance of you as you walk through the fields, are sufficient to +identify him. Not in meadows or orchards, but in high, breezy +pasture-grounds, will you look for him. His song is most noticeable +after sundown, when other birds are silent; for which reason he has been +aptly called the Vesper-Sparrow. The farmer following his team from the +field at dusk catches his sweetest strain. His song is not so brisk and +varied as that of the Song-Sparrow, being softer and wilder, sweeter and +more plaintive. Add the best parts of the lay of the latter to the +sweet, vibrating chant of the Wood-Sparrow, and you have the evening +hymn of the Vesper-Bird,—the poet of the plain, unadorned pastures. Go +to those broad, smooth, up-lying fields where the cattle and sheep are +grazing, and sit down in the twilight on one of those warm, clean +stones, and listen to this song. On every side, near and remote, from +out the short grass which the herds are cropping, the strain rises. Two +or three long, silver notes of peace and rest, ending<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> in some subdued +trills and quavers, constitute each separate song. Often you will catch +only one or two of the bars, the breeze having blown the minor part +away. Such unambitious, quiet, unconscious melody! It is one of the most +characteristic sounds in Nature. The grass, the stones, the stubble, the +furrow, the quiet herds, and the warm twilight among the hills are all +subtilely expressed in this song; this is what they are at last capable +of.</p> + +<p>The female builds a plain nest in the open field, without so much as a +bush or thistle or tuft of grass to protect it or mark its site; you may +step upon it, or the cattle may tread it into the ground. But the danger +from this source, I presume, the bird considers less than that from +another. Skunks and foxes have a very impertinent curiosity, as Finchie +well knows,—and a bank or hedge, or a rank growth of grass or thistles, +that might promise protection and cover to mouse or bird, these cunning +rogues would be apt to explore most thoroughly. The Partridge is +undoubtedly acquainted with the same process of reasoning; for, like the +Vesper-Bird, she, too, nests in open, unprotected places, avoiding all +show of concealment,—coming from the tangled and almost impenetrable +parts of the forest, to the clean, open woods, where she can command all +the approaches and fly with equal ease in any direction.</p> + +<p>One of the most marvellous little songsters whose acquaintance I claim +is the White-Eyed Flycatcher. He seems to have been listened to by +unappreciative ears, for I know no one who has made especial mention of +him. His song is not particularly sweet and soft; on the contrary, it is +a little hard and shrill, like that of the Indigo-Bird or Oriole; but +for fluency, volubility, execution, and power of imitation, he is +unsurpassed (and in the last-named particular unequalled) by any of our +Northern birds. His ordinary note is forcible and emphatic, but, as +stated, not especially musical: <i>Chick-a-re'r-chick</i>, he seems to say, +hiding himself in the low, dense undergrowth, and eluding your most +vigilant search, as if playing some part in a game. But in July or +August, if you are on good terms with the sylvan deities, you may listen +to a far more rare and artistic performance. Your first impression will +be that that cluster of Azalea or that clump of Swamp-Huckleberry +conceals three or four different songsters, each vying with the others +to lead the chorus. Such a medley of notes, snatched from half the +songsters of the field and forest, and uttered with the utmost clearness +and rapidity, I am sure you cannot hear short of the haunts of the +genuine Mocking-Bird. If not fully and accurately repeated, there are at +least suggested the notes of the Robin, Wren, Cat-Bird, High-Hole, +Goldfinch, and Song-Sparrow. The <i>pip, pip</i>, of the last is produced so +accurately that I verily believe it would deceive the bird herself,—and +the whole uttered in such rapid succession that it seems as if the +movement that gives the concluding note of one strain must form the +first note of the next. The effect is very rich, and, to my ear, +entirely unique. The performer is very careful not to reveal himself in +the mean time; yet there is a conscious air about the strain that +impresses one with the idea that his presence is understood and his +attention courted. A tone of pride and glee, and, occasionally, of +bantering jocoseness, is discernible. I believe it is only rarely, and +when he is sure of his audience, that he displays his parts in this +manner. You are to look for him, not in tall trees or deep forests, but +in low, dense shrubbery about wet places, where there are plenty of +gnats and mosquitoes.</p> + +<p>The Winter-Wren is another marvellous songster, in speaking of whom it +is difficult to avoid superlatives. He is not so conscious of his powers +and so ambitious of effect as the White-Eyed Flycatcher, yet you will +not be less astonished and delighted on hearing him. He possesses the +fluency, volubility, and copiousness for which the Wrens are noted, and +besides these qualities, and what is rarely found conjoined with them, a +wild, sweet, rhythmical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span> cadence that holds you entranced. I shall not +soon forget that perfect June day, when, loitering in a low, ancient +Hemlock, in whose cathedral aisles the coolness and freshness seemed +perennial, the silence was suddenly broken by a strain so rapid and +gushing, and touched with such a wild, sylvan plaintiveness, that I +listened in amazement. And so shy and coy was the little minstrel, that +I came twice to the woods before I was sure to whom I was listening. In +summer, he is one of those birds of the deep Northern forests, that, +like the Speckled Canada Warbler and the Hermit-Thrush, only the +privileged ones hear.</p> + +<p>The distribution of plants in a given locality is not more marked and +defined than that of the birds. Show a botanist a landscape, and he will +tell you where to look for the Lady's-Slipper, the Columbine, or the +Harebell. On the same principles the ornithologist will direct you where +to look for the Hooded Warbler, the Wood-Sparrow, or the Chewink. In +adjoining counties, in the same latitude, and equally inland, but +possessing a different geological formation and different forest-timber, +you will observe quite a different class of birds. In a country of the +Beech and Maple I do not find the same songsters that I know where +thrive the Oak, Chestnut, and Laurel. In going from a district of the +Old Red Sandstone to where I walk upon the old Plutonic Rock, not fifty +miles distant, I miss in the woods the Veery, the Hermit-Thrush, the +Chestnut-Sided Warbler, the Blue-Backed Warbler, the Green-Backed +Warbler, the Black and Yellow Warbler, and many others,—and find in +their stead the Wood-Thrush, the Chewink, the Redstart, the +Yellow-Throat, the Yellow-Breasted Flycatcher, the White-Eyed +Flycatcher, the Quail, and the Turtle-Dove.</p> + +<p>In my neighborhood here in the Highlands the distribution is very +marked. South of the village I invariably find one species of +birds,—north of it, another. In only one locality, full of Azalea and +Swamp-Huckleberry, I am always sure of finding the Hooded Warbler. In a +dense undergrowth of Spice-Bush, Witch-Hazel, and Alder, I meet the +Worm-Eating Warbler. In a remote clearing, covered with Heath and Fern, +with here and there a Chestnut and an Oak, I go to hear in July the +Wood-Sparrow, and returning by a stumpy, shallow pond, I am sure to find +the Water-Thrush.</p> + +<p>Only one locality within my range seems to possess attractions for all +comers. Here one may study almost the entire ornithology of the State. +It is a rocky piece of ground, long ago cleared, but now fast relapsing +into the wildness and freedom of Nature, and marked by those +half-cultivated, half-wild features which birds and boys love. It is +bounded on two sides by the village and highway, crossed at various +points by carriage-roads, and threaded in all directions by paths and +by-ways, along which soldiers, laborers, and truant schoolboys are +passing at all hours of the day. It is so far escaping from the axe and +the bushwhack as to have opened communication with the forest and +mountain beyond by straggling lines of Cedar, Laurel, and Blackberry. +The ground is mainly occupied with Cedar and Chestnut, with an +undergrowth, in many places, of Heath and Bramble. The chief feature, +however, is a dense growth in the centre, consisting of Dog-wood, +Water-Beech, Swamp-Ash, Alder, Spice-Bush, Hazel, etc., with a network +of Smilax and Frost-Grape. A little zig-zag stream, the draining of a +swamp beyond, which passes through this tangle-wood, accounts for many +of its features and productions, if not for its entire existence. Birds +that are not attracted by the Heath or the Cedar and Chestnut are sure +to find some excuse for visiting this miscellaneous growth in the +centre. Most of the common birds literally throng this inclosure; and I +have met here many of the rarer species, such as the Great-Crested +Flycatcher, the Solitary Warbler, the Blue-Winged Swamp-Warbler, the +Worm-Eating Warbler, the Fox-Sparrow, etc. The absence of all birds of +prey, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span> great number of flies and insects, both the result of +proximity to the village, are considerations which no Hawk-fearing, +peace-loving minstrel passes over lightly: hence the popularity of the +resort.</p> + +<p>But the crowning glory of all these Robins, Flycatchers, and Warblers is +the Wood-Thrush. More abundant than all other birds, except the Robin +and Cat-Bird, he greets you from every rock and shrub. Shy and reserved +when he first makes his appearance in May, before the end of June he is +tame and familiar, and sings on the tree over your head, or on the rock +a few paces in advance. A pair even built their nest and reared their +brood within ten or twelve feet of the piazza of a large summer-house in +the vicinity. But when the guests commenced to arrive and the piazza to +be thronged with gay crowds, I noticed something like dread and +foreboding in the manner of the mother-bird; and from her still, quiet +ways, and habit of sitting long and silently within a few feet of the +precious charge, it seemed as if the clear creature had resolved, if +possible, to avoid all observation.</p> + +<p>The Hermit-Thrush, the Wood-Thrush, and the Veery (<i>Turdus Wilsonii</i>) +are our peers of song. The Mocking-Bird undoubtedly possesses the +greatest range of mere talent, the most varied executive ability, and +never fails to surprise and delight one anew at each hearing; but being +mostly an imitator, he never approaches the serene beauty and sublimity +of the Hermit-Thrush. The word that best expresses my feelings, on +hearing the Mocking-Bird, is admiration, though the first emotion is one +of surprise and incredulity. That so many and such various notes should +proceed from one throat is a marvel, and we regard the performance with +feelings akin to those we experience on witnessing the astounding feats +of the athlete or gymnast,—and this, notwithstanding many of the notes +imitated have all the freshness and sweetness of the original. The +emotions excited by the songs of these Thrushes belong to a higher +order, springing as they do from our deepest sense of the beauty and +harmony of the world.</p> + +<p>The Wood-Thrush is worthy of all, and more than all, the praises he has +received; and considering the number of his appreciative listeners, it +is not a little surprising that his relative and superior, the +Hermit-Thrush, should have received so little notice. Both the great +ornithologists, Wilson and Audubon, are lavish in their praises of the +former, but have little or nothing to say of the song of the latter. +Audubon says it is sometimes agreeable, but evidently has never heard +it. Nuttall, I am glad to find, is more discriminating, and does the +bird fuller justice. Professor Baird, of the Smithsonian Institution, a +more recent authority, and an excellent observer, tells me he regards it +as preëminently our finest songster.</p> + +<p>It is quite a rare bird, of very shy and secluded habits, being found in +the Middle and Eastern States, during the period of song, only in the +deepest and most remote forests, usually in damp and swampy localities. +On this account the people in the Adirondack region call it the "Swamp +Angel." Its being so much of a recluse accounts for the comparative +ignorance that prevails in regard to it.</p> + +<p>The cast of its song is so much like that of the Wood-Thrush, that an +enthusiastic admirer of the latter bird, as all admirers are, would be +quite apt to mistake it for the strain of his favorite, observing only +how unusually well he sings. I myself erred in this manner, and not till +I had shot the bird in the midst of his solemn hymn—a hard thing to do, +I assure you—was I aware that my Wood-Thrush had a superior. I believe +so good an observer as Thoreau has confounded the songs of the two +birds, as he speaks of having heard the Wood-Thrush in the forests of +Northern Maine, where the law of geographical distribution would lead +one to look for only the Hermit.</p> + +<p>The song of this Thrush is of unparalleled sweetness and sublimity. +There is a calmness and solemnity about it that suggests in Nature +perpetual Sabbath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span> and perennial joy. How vain seem our hurry and +ambition! Clear and serene, strong and melodious, falling softly, yet +flowing far, these notes inspire me with a calm, sacred enthusiasm. I +hear him most in the afternoon, but occasionally at nightfall he "pours +his pure soprano,"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Deepening the silence with diviner calm."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I have known one to sit for hours in the upper branches of a tall Maple +in an opening in a remote wood, and sing till all other birds seemed as +if pausing to listen. Attempting to approach him at such times, I have +called to my aid numerous devices,—such as keeping the range of a tree, +skulking close to the ground, carrying a large bush in front of me,—but +all to no purpose. Suddenly the strain would cease, and while waiting +for him to commence again, I would see him dart off to a lower tree, or +into a thick undergrowth of Witch-Hazel. When I had withdrawn, he would +resume his perch and again take up his song. At other times I have come +abruptly upon him while singing on a low stump, without his seeming to +notice me at all.</p> + +<p>I think his song, in form and manner, is precisely that of the +Wood-Thrush,—differing from it in being more wild and ethereal, as well +as stronger and clearer. It is not the execution of the piece so much as +the tone of the instrument that is superior. In the subdued trills and +quavers that occur between the main bars, you think his tongue must be +more resonant and of finer metal. In uttering the tinkling, bead-like +<i>de, de, de</i>, he is more facile and exquisite; in the longer notes he +possesses greater compass and power, and is more prodigal of his finer +tones. How delicately he syllables the minor parts, weaving, as it were, +the finest of silver embroideries to the main texture of his song!</p> + +<p>Those who have heard only the Wood-Thrush commit a very pardonable error +in placing him first on the list of our songsters. He is truly a royal +minstrel, and, considering his liberal distribution throughout our +Atlantic seaboard, perhaps contributes more than any other bird to our +sylvan melody. One may object, that he spends a little too much time in +tuning his instrument, yet his careless and uncertain touches reveal its +rare compass and power.</p> + +<p>He is the only songster of my acquaintance, excepting the Canary, that +displays different degrees of proficiency in the exercise of his musical +gifts. Not long since, while walking one Sunday in the edge of an +orchard adjoining a wood, I heard one that so obviously and unmistakably +surpassed all his rivals, that my companion, though slow to notice such +things, remarked it wonderingly; and with one accord we threw ourselves +upon the grass and drank in the bounteous melody. It was not different +in quality so much as in quantity. Such a flood of it! Such magnificent +copiousness! Such long, trilling, deferring, accelerating preludes! Such +sudden, ecstatic overtures would have intoxicated the dullest ear. He +was really without a compeer, a master artist. Twice afterward I was +conscious of having heard the same bird.</p> + +<p>The Wood-Thrush is the handsomest species of this family. In grace and +elegance of manner he has no equal. Such a gentle, high-bred air, and +such inimitable ease and composure in his flight and movement! He is a +poet in very word and deed. His carriage is music to the eye. His +performance of the commonest act, as catching a beetle or picking a worm +from the mud, pleases like a stroke of wit or eloquence. Was he a prince +in the olden time, and do the regal grace and mien still adhere to him +in his transformation? What a finely proportioned form! How plain, yet +rich his color,—the bright russet of his back, the clear white of his +breast, with the distinct heart-shaped spots! It may be objected to +Robin that he is noisy and demonstrative; he hurries away or rises to a +branch with an angry note, and flirts his wings in ill-bred suspicion. +The Mavis, or Red Thrush, sneaks and skulks like a culprit,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span> hiding in +the densest Alders; the Cat-Bird is a coquette and a flirt, as well as a +sort of female Paul Pry; and the Chewink shows his inhospitality by +espying your movements like a Japanese. The Wood-Thrush has none of +these under-bred traits. He regards me unsuspiciously, or avoids me with +a noble reserve,—or, if I am quiet and incurious, graciously hops +toward me, as if to pay his respects, or to make my acquaintance. Pass +near his nest, under the very branch, within a few feet of his mate and +brood, and he opens not his beak; he concedes you the right to pass +there, if it lies in your course; but pause an instant, raise your hand +toward the defenceless household, and his anger and indignation are +beautiful to behold.</p> + +<p>What a noble pride he has! Late one October, after his mates and +companions had long since gone South, I noticed one for several +successive days in the dense part of this next-door wood, flitting +noiselessly about, very grave and silent, as if doing penance for some +violation of the code of honor. By many gentle, indirect approaches, I +perceived that part of his tail-feathers were undeveloped. The sylvan +prince could not think of returning to court in this plight,—and so, +amid the falling leaves and cold rains of autumn, was patiently biding +his time.</p> + +<p>The soft, mellow flute of the Veery fills a place in the chorus of the +woods that the song of the Vesper-Sparrow fills in the chorus of the +fields. It has the Nightingale's habit of singing in the twilight, and +possesses, I believe, all of the Nightingale's mellowness and serenity. +Walk out toward the forest in the warm twilight of a June day, and when +fifty rods distant you will hear their soft, reverberating notes, +repeated and prolonged with exquisite melodiousness, rising from a dozen +different throats.</p> + +<p>It is one of the simplest strains to be heard,—as simple as the curve +in form, and mellower than the tenderest tones of the flute,—delighting +from the pure element of harmony and beauty it contains, and not from +any novel or fantastic modulation of it,—thus contrasting strongly with +such rollicking, hilarious songsters as the Bobolink, in whom we are +chiefly pleased with the tintinnabulation, the verbal and labial +excellence, and the evident conceit and delight of the performer.</p> + +<p>I hardly know whether I am more pleased or annoyed with the Cat-Bird. +Perhaps she is a little too common, and her part in the general chorus a +little too conspicuous. If you are listening for the note of another +bird, she is sure to be prompted to the most loud and protracted +singing, drowning all other sounds; if you sit quietly down to observe a +favorite or study a new comer, her curiosity knows no bounds, and you +are scanned and ridiculed from every point of observation. Yet I would +not miss her; I would only subordinate her a little, make her less +conspicuous.</p> + +<p>She is the parodist of the woods, and there is ever a mischievous, +bantering, half-ironical undertone in her lay, as if she were conscious +of mimicking and disconcerting some envied songster. Ambitious of song, +practising and rehearsing in private, she yet seems the least sincere +and genuine of the sylvan minstrels, as if she had taken up music only +to be in the fashion, or not to be outdone by the Robins and Thrushes. +In other words, she seems to sing from some outward motive, and not from +inward joyousness. She is a good versifier, but not a great poet. +Vigorous, rapid, copious, not without fine touches, but destitute of any +high, serene melody, her performance, like that of Thoreau's squirrel, +always implies a spectator.</p> + +<p>There is a certain air and polish about her strain, however, like that +in the vivacious conversation of a well-bred lady of the world, that +commands respect. Her maternal instinct, also, is very strong, and that +simple structure of dead twigs and dry grass is the centre of much +anxious solicitude. Not long since, while strolling through the woods, +my attention was attracted to a small,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span> densely grown swamp, hedged in +with Eglantine, Brambles, and the everlasting Smilax, from which +proceeded loud cries of distress and alarm, indicating that some +terrible calamity was threatening my sombre-colored minstrel. On +effecting an entrance, which, however, was not accomplished till I had +doffed coat and hat, so as to diminish the surface exposed to the thorns +and brambles, and looking around me from a square yard of terra firma, I +found myself the spectator of a loathsome, yet fascinating scene. Three +or four yards from me was the nest, beneath which, in long festoons, +rested a huge black snake; a bird, two thirds grown, was slowly +disappearing between his expanded jaws. As they seemed unconscious of my +presence, I quietly observed the proceedings. By slow degrees he +compassed the bird about with his elastic mouth; his head flattened, his +neck writhed and swelled, and two or three undulatory movements of his +glistening body finished the work. Then, with marvellous ease, he +cautiously raised himself up, his tongue flaming from his mouth the +while, curved over the nest, and, with wavy, subtle motions, explored +the interior. I can conceive of nothing more overpoweringly terrible to +an unsuspecting family of birds than the sudden appearance above their +domicile of the head and neck of this arch-enemy. It is enough to +petrify the blood in their veins. Not finding the object of his search, +he came streaming down from the nest to a lower limb, and commenced +extending his researches in other directions, sliding stealthily through +the branches, bent on capturing one of the parent birds. That a legless, +wingless creature should move with such ease and rapidity where only +birds and squirrels are considered at home, lifting himself up, letting +himself down, running out on the yielding boughs, and traversing with +marvellous celerity the whole length and breadth of the thicket, was +truly surprising. One thinks of the great myth, of the Tempter and the +"cause of all our woe," and wonders if the Arch One is not now playing +off some of his pranks before him. Whether we call it snake or devil +matters little. I could but admire his terrible beauty, however, his +black, shining folds, his easy, gliding movement, head erect, eyes +glistening, tongue playing like subtile flame, and the invisible means +of his almost winged locomotion.</p> + +<p>The parent birds, in the mean while, kept up the most agonizing cry,—at +times fluttering furiously about their pursuer, and actually laying hold +of his tail with their beaks and claws. On being thus attacked, the +snake would suddenly double upon himself and follow his own body back, +thus executing a strategic movement that at first seemed almost to +paralyze his victim and place her within his grasp. Not quite, however. +Before his jaws could close upon the coveted prize the bird would tear +herself away, and, apparently faint and sobbing, retire to a higher +branch. His reputed powers of fascination availed him little, though it +is possible that a more timid and less combative bird might have been +held by the fatal spell. Presently, as he came gliding down the slender +body of a leaning Alder, his attention was attracted by a slight +movement of my arm; eying me an instant, with that crouching, utter, +motionless gaze which I believe only snakes and devils can assume, he +turned quickly,—a feat which necessitated something like crawling over +his own body,—and glided off through the branches, evidently +recognizing in me a representative of the ancient parties he once so +cunningly ruined. A few moments after, as he lay, carelessly disposed in +the top of a rank Alder, trying to look as much like a crooked branch as +his supple, shining form would admit, the old vengeance overtook him. I +exercised my prerogative, and a well-directed missile in the shape of a +stone, brought him looping and writhing to the ground. After I had +completed his downfall, and quiet had been partially restored, a +half-fledged member of the bereaved household came out from his +hiding-place, and, jumping upon a decayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span> branch, chirped vigorously, +no doubt in celebration of the victory. What the emotions of the parent +birds were, on seeing their destroyer's head so thoroughly bruised, and +a part of their little ones at least spared to them, I can only +conjecture; but I imagined the news spread immediately, and that my +praises as the deliverer were sung in that neighborhood ever after.</p> + +<p>Till the middle of July there is a general equilibrium; the tide stands +poised; the holiday-spirit is unabated. But as the harvest ripens +beneath the long, hot days, the melody gradually ceases. The young are +out of the nest and must be cared for, and the moulting season is at +hand. After the Cricket has commenced to drone his monotonous refrain +beneath your window, you will not, till another season, hear the +Wood-Thrush in all his matchless eloquence. The Bobolink has become +careworn and fretful, and blurts out snatches of his song between his +scolding and upbraiding, as you approach the vicinity of his nest, +oscillating between anxiety for his brood and solicitude for his musical +reputation. Some of the Sparrows still sing, and occasionally across the +hot fields, from a tall tree in the edge of the forest, comes the rich +note of the Scarlet Tanager. This tropical-colored bird loves the +hottest weather, and I hear him more in dog-days than at any other time.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the summer is the carnival of the Swallows and +Flycatchers. Flies and insects, to any amount, are to be had for the +catching; and the opportunity is well improved. See that sombre, +ashen-colored Pewee on yonder branch. A true sportsman he, who never +takes his game at rest, but always on the wing. You vagrant Fly, you +purblind Moth, beware how you come within his range! Observe his +attitude. You might think him studying the atmosphere or the light, for +he has an air of contemplation and not of watchfulness. But step closer; +observe the curious movement of his head, his "eye in a fine frenzy +rolling, glancing from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven." His sight +is microscopic and his aim sure. Quick as thought he has seized his +victim and is back to his perch. There is no strife, no pursuit,—one +fell swoop and the matter is ended. That little Sparrow, as you will +observe, is less skilled. It is the <i>Socialis</i>, and he finds his +subsistence properly in various seeds and the larvae of insects, though +he occasionally has higher aspirations, and seeks to emulate the Pewee, +commencing and ending his career as a Flycatcher by an awkward chase +after a Beetle or "Miller." He is hunting around in the grass now, I +suspect, with the desire to indulge this favorite whim. There!—the +opportunity is afforded him. Away goes a little cream-colored +Meadow-Moth in the most tortuous course he is capable of, and away goes +<i>Socialis</i> in pursuit. The contest is quite comical, though I dare say +it is serious enough to the Moth. The chase continues for a few yards, +when there is a sudden rushing to cover in the grass,—then a taking to +wing again, when the search has become too close, and the Moth has +recovered his wind. <i>Socialis</i> chirps angrily, and is determined not to +be beaten. Keeping, with the slightest effort, upon the heels of the +fugitive, he is ever on the point of halting to snap him up, but never +quite does it,—and so, between disappointment and expectation, is soon +disgusted, and returns to pursue his more legitimate means of +subsistence.</p> + +<p>In striking contrast to this serio-comic strife of the Sparrow and the +Moth, is the Pigeon-Hawk's pursuit of the Sparrow or the Goldfinch. It +is a race of surprising speed and agility. It is a test of wing and +wind. Every muscle is taxed, and every nerve strained. Such cries of +terror and consternation on the part of the bird, tacking to the right +and left, and making the most desperate efforts to escape, and such +silent determination on the part of the Hawk, pressing the bird so +closely, flashing and turning and timing his movements with those of the +pursued as accurately and as inexorably as if the two constituted one +body, excite feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span> of a deep interest. You mount the fence or rush +out of your way to see the issue. The only salvation for the bird is to +adopt the tactics of the Moth, seeking instantly the cover of some tree, +bush, or hedge, where its smaller size enables it to move about more +rapidly. These pirates are aware of this, and therefore prefer to take +their prey by one fell swoop. You may see one of them prowling through +an orchard, with the Yellowbirds hovering about him, crying, <i>Pi-ty, +pi-ty</i>, in the most desponding tone; yet he seems not to regard them, +knowing, as do they, that in the close branches they are as safe as if +in a wall of adamant.</p> + +<p>August is the month of the high-sailing Hawks. The Hen-Hawk is the most +noticeable. He likes the haze and the calm of these long, warm days. He +is a bird of leisure, and seems always at his ease. How beautiful and +majestic are his movements! So self-poised and easy, such an entire +absence of haste, such a magnificent amplitude of circles and spirals, +such a haughty, imperial grace, and, occasionally, such daring aërial +evolutions!</p> + +<p>With slow, leisurely movement, rarely vibrating his pinions, he mounts +and mounts in an ascending spiral till he appears a mere speck against +the summer sky; then, if the mood seizes him, with wings half-closed, +like a bent bow, he will cleave the air almost perpendicularly, as if +intent on dashing himself to pieces against the earth; but on nearing +the ground, he suddenly mounts again on broad, expanded wing, as if +rebounding upon the air, and sails leisurely away. It is the sublimest +feat of the season. One holds his breath till he sees him rise again. +Sometimes a squirrel or bird or an unsuspecting barn-fowl is scathed and +withered beneath this terrible visitation.</p> + +<p>If inclined to a more gradual and less precipitous descent, he fixes his +eye on some distant point in the earth beneath him, and thither bends +his course. He is still almost meteoric in his speed and boldness. You +see his path down the heavens, straight as a line; if near, you hear the +rush of his wings; his shadow hurtles across the fields, and in an +instant you see him quietly perched upon some low tree or decayed stub +in a swamp or meadow, with reminiscences of frogs and mice stirring in +his maw.</p> + +<p>When the south-wind blows, it is a study to see three or four of these +air-kings at the head of the valley far up toward the mountain, +balancing and oscillating upon the strong current: now quite stationary, +except a slight tremulous motion like the poise of a rope-dancer, then +rising and falling in long undulations, and seeming to resign themselves +passively to the wind; or, again, sailing high and level far above the +mountain's peak,—no bluster and haste, but, as stated, occasionally a +terrible earnestness and speed. Fire at him as he sails overhead, and, +unless wounded badly, he will not change his course or gait.</p> + +<p>His flight is a perfect picture of repose in motion. He might sleep +dream in that level, effortless, aimless sail. It strikes the eye as +more surprising than the flight of the Pigeon and Swallow even, in that +the effort put forth is so uniform and delicate as to escape +observation, giving to the movement an air of buoyancy and perpetuity, +the effluence of power rather than the conscious application of it.</p> + +<p>The calmness and dignity of this Hawk, when attacked by Crows or the +King-Bird, are well worthy of him. He seldom deigns to notice his noisy +and furious antagonists, but deliberately wheels about in that aërial +spiral, and mounts and mounts till his pursuers grow dizzy and return to +earth again. It is quite original, this mode of getting rid of an +unworthy opponent, rising to heights where the braggart is dazed and +bewildered and loses his reckoning! I am not sure but it is worthy of +imitation.</p> + +<p>But summer wanes, and autumn approaches. The songsters of the seed-time +are silent at the reaping of the harvest. Other minstrels take up the +strain. It is the heyday of insect life. The day is canopied with +musical sound.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span> All the songs of the spring and summer appear to be +floating, softened and refined, in the upper air. The birds, in a new, +but less holiday suit, turn their faces southward. The Swallows flock +and go; the Bobolinks flock and go; silently and unobserved, the +Thrushes go. Autumn arrives, bringing Finches, Warblers, Sparrows, and +Kinglets from the North. Silently the procession passes. Yonder Hawk, +sailing peacefully away till he is lost in the horizon, is a symbol of +the closing season and the departing birds.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GOLD_EGG_A_DREAM-FANTASY" id="GOLD_EGG_A_DREAM-FANTASY"></a>GOLD EGG.—A DREAM-FANTASY.</h2> + +<h3>HOW A STUDENT IN SEARCH OF THE BEAUTIFUL FELL ASLEEP OVER HERR PROFESSOR +DOCTOR VISCHER'S "WISSENSCHAFT DES SCHÖNEN," AND WHAT CAME THEREOF.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">1.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I swam with undulation soft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adrift on Vischer's ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, from my cockboat up aloft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent down my mental plummet oft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hope to reach a notion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">2.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But from the metaphysic sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No bottom was forthcoming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the while (so drowsily!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one eternal note of B<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My German stove kept humming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">3.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What's Beauty? mused I. Is it told<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By synthesis? analysis?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you not made us lead of gold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed your crucible, not sold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our temple's sacred chalices?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">4.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then o'er my senses came a change:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My book seemed all traditions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old legends of profoundest range,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diablerie, and stories strange<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of goblins, elves, magicians.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">5.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Truth was, my outward eyes were closed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although I did not know it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep into Dreamland I had dozed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found me suddenly transposed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From proser into poet.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">6.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So what I read took flesh and blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turned to living creatures;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The words were but the dingy bud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bloomed, like Adam from the mud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To human forms and features.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">7.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw how Zeus was lodged once more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Baucis and Philemon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The text said, "Not alone of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But every day at every door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knocks still the masking Demon."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">8.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Daimon</span> 't was printed in the book;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as I read it slowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The letters moved and changed and took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove's stature, the Olympian look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of painless melancholy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">9.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He paused upon the threshold worn:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"With coin I cannot pay you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet would I fain make some return,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will not the gift's cheapness spurn,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Accept this fowl, I pray you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">10.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Plain feathers wears my Hemera,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And has from ages olden;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She makes her nest in common hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, of all the birds that lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her eggs alone are golden."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">11.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He turned and could no more be seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Baucis stared a moment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tossed poor partlet on the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a tone half jest, half spleen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus made her housewife's comment:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">12.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The stranger had a queerish face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His smile was most unpleasant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he meant it for a grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet this old hen of barnyard race<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was but a stingy present.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">13.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She's quite too old for laying eggs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, even to make a soup of;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It only needs to see her legs,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You might as well boil down the pegs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I made the brood-hen's coop of!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">14.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"More than three hundred such do I<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raise every year, her sisters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, in the woods your fortune try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day for one poor earth-worm pry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scratch your toes to blisters!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">15.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Philemon found the rede was good;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turning on the poor hen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clapped his hands, he stamped, hallooed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunting the exile toward the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To house with snipe and moor-hen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">16.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A poet saw and cried,—"Hold! hold!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What are you doing, madman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spurn you more wealth than can be told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fowl that lays the eggs of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because she's plainly clad, man?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">17.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To him Philemon,—"I'll not balk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy will with any shackle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt add a burden to thy walk?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then take her without further talk;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You're both but fit to cackle!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">18.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But scarce the poet touched the bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It rose to stature regal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when her cloud-wide wings she stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A whisper as of doom was heard,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'T was Jove's bolt-bearing eagle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">19.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As when from far-off cloudbergs springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A crag, and, hurtling under,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From cliff to cliff the rumor flings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she from flight-foreboding wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shook out a murmurous thunder.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">20.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gripped the poet to her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ever upward soaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth seemed a new-moon in the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then one light among the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where squadrons lie at mooring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">21.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How know I to what o'er-world seat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eagle bent her courses?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves that seem its base to beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gales that round it weave and fleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are life's creative forces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">22.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here was the bird's primeval nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High on a promontory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star-pharosed, where she takes her rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And broods new æons 'neath her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The future's unfledged glory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">23.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew not how, but I was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All feeling, hearing, seeing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not wind that stirred my hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But living breath, the essence rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of unembodied being.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">24.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in the nest an egg of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay wrapt in its own lustre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazing whereon, what depths untold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within, what wonders manifold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seemed silently to muster!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">25.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do visions of such inward grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still haunt our life benighted?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It glowed as when St. Peter's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illumed, forgets its stony race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seems to throb self-lighted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">26.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One saw therein the life of man,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or so the poet found it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yolk and white, conceive who can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were the glad earth, that, floating, span<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the soft heaven around it.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">27.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew this as one knows in dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where no effects to causes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are chained as in our work-day scheme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then was wakened by a scream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sent up by frightened Baucis.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">28.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bless Zeus!" she cried, "I'm safe below!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First pale, then red as coral;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, still drowsy, pondered slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seemed to find, but hardly know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Something like this for moral.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">29.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each day the world is born anew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For him who takes it rightly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not fresher that which Adam knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not sweeter that whose moonlit dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dropped on Arcadia nightly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">30.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rightly?—that's simply: 't is to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Some</i> substance casts these shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which we call Life and History,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aimless seem to chase and flee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like wind-gleams over meadows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">31.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Simply?—that's nobly: 't is to know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That God may still be met with,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor groweth old, nor doth bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sense, this heart, this brain aglow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To grovel and forget with.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i10">32.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beauty, Herr Doctor, trust in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No chemistry will win you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charis still rises from the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you can't find her, <i>might</i> it be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trouble was within you?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OUT_OF_THE_SEA" id="OUT_OF_THE_SEA"></a>OUT OF THE SEA.</h2> + + +<p>A raw, gusty afternoon: one of the last dragging breaths of a +nor'easter, which swept, in the beginning of November, from the Atlantic +coast to the base of the Alleghanies. It lasted a week, and brought the +winter,—for autumn had lingered unusually late that year; the fat +bottom-lands of Pennsylvania, yet green, deadened into swamps, as it +passed over them: summery, gay bits of lakes among the hills glazed over +with muddy ice; the forests had been kept warm between the western +mountains, and held thus late even their summer's strength and darker +autumn tints, but the fierce ploughing winds of this storm and its +cutting sleet left them a mass of broken boughs and rotted leaves. In +fact, the sun had loitered so long, with a friendly look back-turned +into these inland States, that people forgot that the summer had gone, +and skies and air and fields were merry-making together, when they lent +their color and vitality to these few bleak days, and then suddenly +found that they had entertained winter unawares.</p> + +<p>Down on the lee coast of New Jersey, however, where the sea and wind +spend the year making ready for their winter's work of shipwreck, this +storm, though grayer and colder there than elsewhere, toned into the +days and nights as a something entirely matter-of-course and consonant. +In summer it would have been at home there. Its aspect was different, +also, as I said. But little rain fell here; the wind lashed the ocean +into fury along the coast, and then rolled in long, melancholy howls +into the stretches of barren sand and interminable pine forest; the +horizon contracted, though at all times it is narrower than anywhere +else, the dome of the sky wider,—clouds and atmosphere forming the +scenery, and the land but a round, flat standing-place: but now the sun +went out; the air grew livid, as though death were coming through it; +solid masses of gray, wet mist moved, slower than the wind, from point +to point, like gigantic ghosts gathering to the call of the murderous +sea.</p> + +<p>"Yonder go the shades of Ossian's heroes," said Mary Defourchet to her +companion, pointing through the darkening air.</p> + +<p>They were driving carefully in an old-fashioned gig, in one of the lulls +of the storm, along the edge of a pine wood, early in the afternoon. The +old Doctor,—for it was MacAulay, (Dennis,) from over in Monmouth +County, she was with,—the old man did not answer, having enough to do +to guide his mare, the sleet drove so in his eyes. Besides, he was +gruffer than usual this afternoon, looking with the trained eyes of an +old water-dog out to the yellow line of the sea to the north. Miss +Defourchet pulled the oil-skin cloth closer about her knees, and held +her tongue; she relished the excitement of this fierce fighting the +wind, though; it suited the nervous tension which her mind had undergone +lately.</p> + +<p>It was a queer, lonesome country, the lee coast,—never so solitary as +now, perhaps; older than the rest of the world, she fancied,—so many of +Nature's voices, both of bird and vegetable, had been entirely lost out +of it: no wonder it had grown unfruitful, and older and dumber and sad, +listening for ages to the unremorseful, cruel cries of the sea; these +dead bodies, too, washed up every year on its beaches, must haunt it, +though it was not guilty. She began to say something of this to Doctor +Dennis, tired of being silent.</p> + +<p>"Your country seems to me always to shut itself out from the world," she +said; "from the time I enter that desolate region on its border of dwarf +oaks and gloomy fires of the charcoal-burners, I think of the old leper +and his cry of 'Unclean! unclean!'"</p> + +<p>MacAulay glances anxiously at her, trying to keep pace with her meaning.</p> + +<p>"It's a lonesome place enough," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534]</a></span> said, slowly. "There be but the two +or three farm-keepers; and the places go from father to son, father to +son. The linen and carpet-mats in that house you're in now come down +from the times before Washington. Stay-at-home, quiet people,—only the +men that follow the water, in each generation. There be but little to be +made from these flats of white sand. Yes, quiet enough: the beasts of +prey aren't scaret out of these pine forests yet, I heard the cry of a +panther the other night only, coming from Tom's River: close by the road +it was: sharp and sorrowful, like a lost child.—As for ghosts," he +continued, after a thoughtful pause, "I don't know any that would have +reason for walking, without it was Captain Kidd. His treasure's buried +along-shore here."</p> + +<p>"Ay?" said Mary, looking up shrewdly into his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, shaking his head slowly, and measuring his whip with +one eye. "Along here, many's the Spanish half-dollar I've picked up +myself among the kelp. They do say they're from a galleon that went +ashore come next August thirty years ago, but I don't know that."</p> + +<p>"And the people in the hamlet?" questioned Mary, nodding to a group of +scattered, low-roofed houses.</p> + +<p>"Clam-fishers, the maist o' them. There be quite a many wrackers, but +they live farther on, towards Barnegat. But a wrack draws them, like +buzzards to a carcass."</p> + +<p>Miss Defourchet's black eye kindled, as if at the prospect of a good +tragedy.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a wreck going down?" she asked, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes,"—shutting his grim lips tighter.</p> + +<p>"That emigrant ship last fall? Seven hundred and thirty souls lost, they +told me."</p> + +<p>"I was not here to know, thank God," shortly.</p> + +<p>"It would be a sensation for a lifetime,"—cuddling back into her seat, +with no hopes of a story from the old Doctor.</p> + +<p>MacAulay sat up stiffer, his stern gray eye scanning the ocean-line +again, as the mare turned into the more open plains of sand sloping down +to the sea. It was up-hill work with him, talking to this young lady. He +was afraid of a woman who had lectured in public, nursed in the +hospitals, whose blood seemed always at fever heat, and whose æsthetic +taste could seek the point of view from which to observe a calamity so +horrible as the emigrant ship going down with her load of lives. "She's +been fed on books too much," he thought. "It's the trouble with young +women nowadays." On the other hand, for himself, he had lost sight of +the current of present knowledges,—he was aware of that, finding how +few topics in common there were between them; but it troubled the +self-reliant old fellow but little. Since he left Yale, where he and +this girl's uncle, Doctor Bowdler, had been chums together, he had lived +in this out-of-the-way corner of the world, and many of the rough ways +of speaking and acting of the people had clung to him, as their red mud +to his shoes. As he grew older, he did not care to brush either off.</p> + +<p>Miss Defourchet had been a weight on his mind for a week or more. Her +guardian, Doctor Bowdler, had sent her down to board in one of the +farm-houses. "The sea-air will do her good, physically," he said in a +note to his old chum, with whom he always had kept up a lingering +intercourse; "she's been over-worked lately,—sick soldiers, you know. +Mary went into the war <i>con amore</i>, like all women, or other happy +people who are blind of one eye. Besides, she is to be married about +Christmas, and before she begins life in earnest it would do her good to +face something real. Nothing like living by the sea, and with those +homely, thorough-blood Quakers, for bringing people to their simple, +natural selves. By the way, you have heard of Dr. Birkenshead, whom she +marries? though he is a surgeon,—not exactly in your profession. A +surprisingly young man to have gained his reputation. I'm glad Mary +marries a man of so much mark; she has pulled alone so long, she needs a +master." So MacAulay had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535]</a></span> taken pains to drive the young lady out, as +to-day, and took a general fatherly sort of charge of her, for his old +friend's sake.</p> + +<p>Doctor Bowdler had frankly told his niece his reasons for wishing her to +go down to the sea-shore. They nettled her more than she chose to show. +She was over thirty, an eager humanitarian, had taught the freedmen at +Port Royal, gone to Gettysburg and Antietam with sanitary +stores,—surely, she did not need to be told that she had yet to begin +life in earnest! But she was not sorry for the chance to rest and think. +After she married she would be taken from the quiet Quaker society in +Philadelphia, in which she always had moved, to one that would put her +personal and mental powers to a sharp proof; for Birkenshead, by right +of his professional fame, and a curiously attractive personal +eccentricity, had gradually become the nucleus of one of the best and +most brilliant circles in the country, men and women alike distinguished +for their wit and skill in extracting the finest tones from life while +they lived. The quiet Quaker girl was secretly on her mettle,—secretly, +too, a little afraid. The truth was, she knew Doctor Birkenshead only in +the glare of public life; her love for him was, as yet, only a delicate +intellectual appreciation that gave her a keen delight. She was anxious +that in his own world he should not be ashamed of her. She was glad he +was to share this breathing-space with her; they could see each other +unmasked. Doctor Bowdler and he were coming down from New York on Ben +Van Note's lumber-schooner. It was due yesterday, but had not yet +arrived.</p> + +<p>"You are sure," MacAulay said to her, as they rode along, "that they +will come with Ben?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. They preferred it to the cars for the novelty of the thing, +and the storm lulled the day they were to sail. Could the schooner make +this inlet in a sea like that?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Dennis, stooping to arrange the harness, pretended not to hear +her.</p> + +<p>"Ben, at least," he thought, "knows that to near the bar to-day means +death."</p> + +<p>"One would think," he added aloud, "that Dick Bowdler's gray hairs and +thirty years of preaching would have sobered his love of adventure. He +was a foolhardy chap at college."</p> + +<p>Miss Defourchet's glance grew troubled, as she looked out at the +gathering gloom and the crisp bits of yellow foam blown up to the +carriage-wheels. Doctor Dennis turned the mare's head, thus hiding the +sea from them; but its cry sounded for miles inland to-day,—an awful, +inarticulate roar. All else was solemn silence. The great salt marshes +rolled away on one side of the road, lush and rank,—one solitary dead +tree rising from them, with a fish-hawk's uncouth nest lumbering its +black trunk; they were still as the grave; even the ill-boding bird was +gone long ago, and kept no more its lonely vigil on the dead limb over +wind and wave. She glanced uneasily from side to side: high up on the +beach lay fragments of old wrecks; burnt spars of vessels drifted ashore +to tell, in their dumb way, of captain and crew washed, in one quick +moment, by this muddy water of the Atlantic, into that sea far off +whence no voyager has come back to bring the tidings. Land and sea +seemed to her to hint at this thing,—this awful sea, cold and dark +beyond. What did the dark mystery in the cry of the surf mean but that? +That was the only sound. The heavy silence without grew intolerable to +her: it foreboded evil. The cold, yellow light of day lingered long. +Overhead, cloud after cloud rose from the far watery horizon, and drove +swiftly and silently inland, bellying dark as it went, carrying the +storm. As the horse's hoofs struck hard on the beach, a bird rose out of +the marsh and trailed through the air, its long legs dragging behind it, +and a blaze of light feathers on its breast catching a dull glow in the +fading evening.</p> + +<p>"The blue heron flies low," said the Doctor. "That means a heavier +storm. It scents a wreck as keenly as a Barnegat pirate."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is fishing, maybe?" said Mary, trying to rouse herself.</p> + +<p>"It's no a canny fisher that," shaking his head. "The fish you'd find in +its nest come from the deep waters, where heron never flew. Well, they +do say," in answer to her look of inquiry, "that on stormy nights it +sits on the beach with a phosphoric light under its wing, and so draws +them to shore."</p> + +<p>"How soon will the storm be on us?" after a pause.</p> + +<p>"In not less than two hours. Keep your heart up, child. Ben Van Note is +no fool. He'd keep clear of Squan Beach as he would of hell's mouth, +such a night as this is going to be. Your friends are all safe. We'll +drive home as soon as we've been at the store to see if the mail's +brought you a letter."</p> + +<p>He tucked in his hairy overcoat about his long legs, and tried to talk +cheerfully as they drove along, seeing how pale she was.</p> + +<p>"The store" for these two counties was a large, one-roomed frame +building on the edge of the great pine woods, painted bright pink, with +a wooden blue lady, the old figure-head of some sloop, over the door. +The stoop outside was filled with hogsheads and boxes; inside was the +usual stock of calicoes, chinaware, molasses-barrels, and books; the +post-office, a high desk, on which lay half a dozen letters. By the +dingy little windows, on which the rain was now beating sharply, four or +five dirty sailors and clam-diggers were gathered, lounging on the +counter and kegs, while one read a newspaper aloud slowly. They stopped +to look at Miss Defourchet, when she came in, and waited by the door for +the Doctor. The gloomy air and forlorn-looking shop contrasted and threw +into bright relief her pretty, delicate little figure, and the dainty +carriage-dress she wore. All the daylight that was in the store seemed +at once to cling to and caress the rare beauty of the small face, with +its eager blue eyes and dark brown curls. There was one woman in the +store, sitting on a beer-cask, a small, sharp-set old wife, who drew her +muddy shoes up under her petticoats out of Mary's way, but did not look +at her. Miss Defourchet belonged to a family to whom the ease that money +gives and a certain epicureanism of taste were natural. She stood there +wondering, not unkindly, what these poor creatures did with their lives, +and their dull, cloddish days; what could they know of the keen pains, +the pleasures, the ambitions, or loves, that ennobled wealthier souls?</p> + +<p>"This be yer papper, Doctor," said one; "but we've not just yet finished +it."</p> + +<p>"All right, boys; Jem Dexter can leave it to-night, as he goes by. Any +mail for me, Joe? But you're waiting, Mother Phebe?"—turning with a +sudden gentleness to the old woman near Mary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I be. But it don't matter. Joseph, serve the Doctor,"—beating a +tattoo on the counter with her restless hands.</p> + +<p>The Doctor did not turn to take his letters, however, nor seem to heed +the wind which was rising fitfully each moment without, but leaned +leisurely on the counter.</p> + +<p>"Did you expect a letter to-day?"—in the same subdued voice.</p> + +<p>She gave a scared look at the men by the window, and then in a +whisper,—</p> + +<p>"From my son, Derrick,—yes. The folks here take Derrick for a +joke,—an' me. But I'm expectin'. He said he'd come, thee sees?"</p> + +<p>"So he did."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's none from Derrick to-day, Mother Phebe," said the burly +storekeeper, taking his stubby pipe out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>She caught her breath.</p> + +<p>"Thee looked carefully, Joseph?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. She began to unbutton a patched cotton umbrella,—her lips +moving as people's do sometimes in the beginning of second childhood.</p> + +<p>"I'll go home, then. I'll be back mail-day, Wednesday, Joseph. Four days +that is,—Wednesday."</p> + +<p>"Lookee here now, Gran!" positively, laying down the pipe to give effect +to his words; "you're killin' yerself, you are. Keep a-trottin' here all +winter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537]</a></span> an' what sort of a report of yerself'll yer make to Derrick by +spring? When that 'ere letter comes, if come it do, I've said I'd put on +my cut an' run up with it. See there!"—pulling out her thin calico +skirt before the Doctor,—"soaked, she is."</p> + +<p>"Thee's kind, Joseph, but thee don't know,"—drawing her frock back with +a certain dignity. "When my boy's handwrite comes, I must be here. I +learned writin' on purpose that I might read it first,"—turning to +Mary.</p> + +<p>"How long has your boy been gone?" asked Miss Defourchet, heedless of +Joseph's warning "Hush-h!"</p> + +<p>"Twenty years, come Febuary," eagerly volunteered one or two voices by +the window. "She's never heerd a word in that time, an' she never misses +a mail-day, but she's expectin'," added one, with a coarse laugh.</p> + +<p>"None o' that, Sam Venners," said Joe, sharply. "If so be as Dirk said +he'd come, be it half-a-hunder' years, he'll stan' to 't. I knowed Dirk. +Many's the clam we toed out o' th' inlet yonner. He's not the sort to +hang round, gnawin' out the old folk's meat-pot, as some I cud name. +He"——</p> + +<p>"I'll go, if thee'll let me apast," said the old woman, humbly curtsying +to the men, who now jammed up the doorway.</p> + +<p>"It's a cussed shame, Venners," said Joe, when she was out. "Why can't +yer humor the old gran a bit? She's the chicken-heartedest woman ever I +knowed," explanatory to Miss Defourchet, "an' these ten years she's been +mad-like, waitin' for that hang-dog son of hers to come back."</p> + +<p>Mary followed her out on the stoop, where she stood, her ragged green +umbrella up, her sharp little face turned anxiously to the far sea-line.</p> + +<p>"Bad! bad!" she muttered, looking at Mary.</p> + +<p>"The storm? Yes. But you ought not to be out in such weather," kindly, +putting her furred hand on the skinny arm.</p> + +<p>The woman smiled,—a sweet, good-humored smile it was, in spite of her +meagre, hungry old face.</p> + +<p>"Why, look there, young woman,"—pulling up her sleeve, and showing the +knotted tendons and thick muscles of her arm. "I'm pretty tough, thee +sees. There's not a boatman in Ocean County could pull an oar with me +when I was a gell, an' I'm tough yet,"—hooking her sleeve again.</p> + +<p>The smile haunted Miss Defourchet; where had she seen it before?</p> + +<p>"Was Derrick strongly built?"—idly wishing to recall it.</p> + +<p>"Thee's a stranger; maybe thee has met my boy?"—turning on her sharply. +"No, that's silly,"—the sad vagueness coming back into the faded eyes. +After a pause,—"Derrick, thee said? He was short, the lad was,—but +with legs and arms as tender and supple as a wild-cat's. I loss much of +my strength when he was born; it was wonderful, for a woman, before; I +giv it to him. I'm glad of that! I thank God that I giv it to him!"—her +voice sinking, and growing wilder and faster. "Why! why!"</p> + +<p>Mary took her hand, half-scared, looking in at the store-door, wishing +Doctor Dennis would come.</p> + +<p>The old woman tottered and sat down on the lower rung of a ladder +standing there. Mary could see now how the long sickness of the hope +deferred had touched the poor creature's brain, gentle and loving at +first. She pushed the wet yellow sun-bonnet back from the gray hair; she +thought she had never seen such unutterable pathos or tragedy as in this +little cramped figure, and this old face, turned forever watching to the +sea.</p> + +<p>"Thee doesn't know; how should thee?"—gently, but not looking at her. +"Thee never had a son; an' when thee has, it will be born in wedlock. +Thee's rich, an' well taught. I was jess a clam-fisher, an' knowed +nothin' but my baby. His father was a gentleman: come in spring, an' +gone in th' fall, an' that was the last of him. That hurt a bit, but I +had Derrick. <i>Oh, Derrick! Derrick!</i>"—whispering, rocking herself to +and fro as if she held a baby, cooing over the uncouth name with an +awful longing and tenderness in the sound.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Defourchet was silent. Something in all this awed her; she did not +understand it.</p> + +<p>"I mind," she wandered on, "when the day's work was done, I'd hold him +in my arms,—so,—and his sleepy little face would turn up to mine. I +seemed to begin to loss him after he was a baby,"—with an old, worn +sigh. "He went with other boys. The Weirs and Hallets took him up; they +were town-bred people, an' he soon got other notions from mine, an' +talked of things I'd heerd nothin' of. I was very proud of my Derrick; +but I knowed I'd loss him all the same. I did washin' an' ironin' by +nights to keep him dressed like the others,—an' kep' myself out o' +their way, not to shame him with his mother."</p> + +<p>"And was he ashamed of you?" said Mary, her face growing hot.</p> + +<p>"Thee did not know my little boy,"—the old woman stood up, drawing +herself to her full height. "His wee body was too full of pluck an' good +love to be shamed by his mother. I mind the day I come on them suddint, +by the bridge, where they were standin', him an' two o' the Hallets. I +was carryin' a basket of herrings. The Hallets they flushed up, an' +looked at him to see what he'd do; for they never named his mother to +him, I heerd. The road was deep with mud; an' as I stood a bit to +balance myself, keepin' my head turned from him, before I knew aught, my +boy had me in his arms, an' carried me t' other side. I'm not a heavy +weight, thee sees, but his face was all aglow with the laugh.</p> + +<p>"'There you are, dear,' he says, puttin' me down, the wind blowin' his +brown hair.</p> + +<p>"One of the Hallets brought my basket over then, an' touched his hat as +if I'd been a lady. That was the last time my boy had his arms about me: +next week he went away. That night I heerd him in his room in the loft, +here an' there, here an' there, as if he couldn't sleep, an' so for many +nights, comin' down in the mornin' with his eye red an' swollen, but +full of the laugh an' joke as always. The Hallets were with him +constant, those days, Judge Hallet, their father, were goin' across +seas, Derrick said. So one night, I'd got his tea ready, an' were +waitin' for him by the fire, knittin',—when he come in an' stood by the +mantel-shelf, lookin' down at me, steady. He had on his Sunday suit of +blue, Jim Devines giv him.</p> + +<p>"'Where be yer other clothes, my son?' I said.</p> + +<p>"'They're not clean,' says he. 'I've been haulin' marl for Springer this +week. He paid me to-night; the money's in the kitchen-cupboard.'</p> + +<p>"I looked up at that, for it was work I'd never put him to.</p> + +<p>"'It'll buy thee new shoes,' said I.</p> + +<p>"'I did it for you, mother,' he says, suddint, puttin' his hand over his +eyes. 'I wish things were different with you.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, Derrick.'</p> + +<p>"I went on with my knittin'; for I never talked much to him, for the +shame of my bad words, since he'd learned better. But I wondered what he +meant; for wages was high that winter, an' I was doin' well.</p> + +<p>"'If ever,' he says, speakin' low an' faster, 'if ever I do anything +that gives you pain, you'll know it was for love of you I did it. Not +for myself, God knows! To make things different for you.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, Derrick,' I says, knittin' on, for I didn't understan' thin. +Afterwards I did. The room was dark, an' it were dead quiet for a bit; +then the lad moved to the door.</p> + +<p>"'Where be thee goin', Derrick?' I said.</p> + +<p>"He come back an' leaned on my chair.</p> + +<p>"'Let me tell you when I come back,' he said. 'You'll wait for me?' +stoopin' down an' kissin' me.</p> + +<p>"I noticed that, for he did not like to kiss,—Derrick. An' his lips +were hot an' dry.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I'll wait, my son,' I said. 'Thee'll not be gone long?'</p> + +<p>"He did not answer that, but kissed me again, an' went out quickly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I sat an' waited long that night, an' searched till mornin'. There's +been a many nights an' days since, but I've never found him. The Hallets +all went that night, an' I heerd Derrick went as waiter-boy, so's to get +across seas. It's twenty years now. But I think he'll come,"—looking up +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Miss Defourchet started; where had she known this woman? The sudden +flicker of a smile, followed by a quick contraction of the eyelids and +mouth, was peculiar and curiously sensitive and sad; somewhere, in a +picture maybe, she had seen the same.</p> + +<p>Doctor Dennis, who had waited purposely, came out now on the stoop. Miss +Defourchet looked up. The darkness had gathered while they stood there; +the pine woods, close at the right, began to lower distant and +shapeless; now and then the wind flapped a raw dash of rain in their +faces, and then was suddenly still. Behind them, two or three tallow +candles, just lighted in the store, sputtered dismal circles of dingy +glare in the damp fog; in front, a vague slope of wet night, in which +she knew lay the road and the salt marshes; and far beyond, distinct, +the sea-line next the sky, a great yellow phosphorescent belt, +apparently higher than their heads. Nearer, unseen, the night-tide was +sent in: it came with a regular muffled throb that shook the ground. +Doctor Dennis went down, and groped about his horse, adjusting the +harness.</p> + +<p>"The poor beast is soaked to the marrow: it's a dull night: d'ye hear +how full the air is of noises?"</p> + +<p>"It be the sea makin' ready," said Joe, in a whisper, as if it were a +sentient thing and could hear. He touched the old woman on the arm and +beckoned her inside to one of the candles.</p> + +<p>"There be a scrap of a letter come for you; but keep quiet. Ben Van +Note's scrawl of a handwrite, think."</p> + +<p>The letters were large enough,—printed, in fact: she read it but once.</p> + +<p>"Your Dirk come Aboord the Chief at New York. I knowed him by a mark on +his wrist—the time jim hallet cut him' you mind. he is aged and +Differentt name. I kep close. we sail to-day and Ill Breng him Ashor +tomorrer nite plese God. be on Handd."</p> + +<p>She folded the letter, crease by crease, and put it quietly in her +pocket. Joe watched her curiously.</p> + +<p>"D' Ben say when the Chief ud run in?"</p> + +<p>"To-night."</p> + +<p>"Bah-h! there be n't a vessel within miles of this coast,—without a +gale drives 'm in."</p> + +<p>She did not seem to hear him: was feeling her wet petticoats and +sleeves. She would shame Derrick, after all, with this patched, muddy +frock! She had worked so long to buy the black silk, gown and white +neckercher that was folded in the bureau-drawer to wear the day he'd +come back!</p> + +<p>"When he come back!"</p> + +<p>Then, for the first time, she realized what she was thinking about. +<i>Coming to-night!</i></p> + +<p>Presently Miss Defourchet went to her where she was sitting on a box in +the dark and rain.</p> + +<p>"Are you sick?" said she, putting her hand out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, dear!" softly, putting the fingers in her own, close to her +breast, crying and sobbing quietly. "Thee hand be a'most as soft as a +baby's foot," after a while, fancying the little chap was creeping into +her bosom again, thumping with his fat feet and fists as he used to do. +Her very blood used to grow wild and hot when he did that, she loved him +so. And her heart to-night was just as warm and light as then. He was +coming back, her boy: maybe he was poor and sick, a worn-out man; but in +a few hours he would be here, and lay his tired head on her breast, and +be a baby again.</p> + +<p>Joe went down to the Doctor with a lantern.</p> + +<p>"Van Note meant to run in the Chief to-night,"—in an anxious, inquiring +whisper.</p> + +<p>"He's not an idiot!"</p> + +<p>"No,—but, bein' near, the wind may drive 'em on the bar. Look yonder."</p> + +<p>"See that, too, Joe?" said bow-legged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span> Phil, from Tom's River, who was +up that night.</p> + +<p>"That yellow line has never been in the sky since the night the James +Frazier—<i>Ach-h! it's come!</i>"</p> + +<p>He had stooped to help Doctor Dennis with his harness, but now fell +forward, clapping his hands to his ears. A terrible darkness swept over +them; the whole air was filled with a fierce, risping crackle; then came +a sharp concussion, that seemed to tear the earth asunder. Miss +Defourchet cried aloud: no one answered her. In a few moments the +darkness slowly lifted, leaving the old yellow lights and fogs on sea +and land. The men stood motionless as when the tornado passed, Doctor +Dennis leaning on his old mare, having thrown one arm about her as if to +protect her, his stern face awed.</p> + +<p>"There's where it went," said Joe, coolly, drawing his hands from his +pockets, and pointing to a black gap in the pine woods. "The best farms +in this Jersey country lie back o' that. I told you there was death in +the pot, but I didn't think it ud 'a' come this fashion."</p> + +<p>"When will the storm be on us?" asked Mary, trembling.</p> + +<p>Joe laughed sardonically.</p> + +<p>"Haven't ye hed enough of it?"</p> + +<p>"There will be no rain after a gust like that," said MacAulay. "I'll try +and get you home now. It has done its worst. It will take years to wipe +out the woe this night has worked."</p> + +<p>The wind had fallen into a dead silence, frightened at itself. And now +the sudden, awful thunder of the sea broke on them, shaking the sandy +soil on which they stood.</p> + +<p>"Thank God that Van Note is so trusty a sailor as you say!" said Mary, +buttoning her furs closer to her throat. "They're back in a safe harbor, +I doubt not."</p> + +<p>Joe and Doctor Dennis exchanged significant glances as they stood by the +mare, and then looked again out to sea.</p> + +<p>"Best get her home," said Joe, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Doctor Dennis nodded, and they made haste to bring the gig up to the +horse-block.</p> + +<p>Old Phebe Trull had been standing stirless since the gust passed. She +drew a long breath when Mary touched her, telling her to come home with +them.</p> + +<p>"That was a sharp blow. I'm an old Barnegat woman, an' I've known no +such cutters as that. But he'll come. I'm expectin' my boy to-night, +young woman. I'm goin' to the beach now to wait for him,—for Derrick."</p> + +<p>In spite of the queer old face peering out from the yellow sun-bonnet, +with its flabby wrinkles and nut-cracker jaws, there was a fine, +delicate meaning in the smile with which she waved her hand down to the +stormy beach.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Doctor Dennis, starting up, and holding his hand +behind his ear. His sandy face grew pale.</p> + +<p>"I heard nothing," said Mary.</p> + +<p>The next moment she caught a dull thud in the watery distance, as if +some pulse of the night had throbbed feverishly.</p> + +<p>Bow-legged Phil started to his feet.</p> + +<p>"It's the gun of the Chief! Van Note's goin' down!" he cried, with a +horrible oath, and hobbled off, followed by the other men.</p> + +<p>"His little brother Benny be on her," said Joe. "May God have mercy on +their souls!"</p> + +<p>He had climbed like a cat to the rafters, and thrown down two or three +cables and anchors, and, putting them over his shoulders, started +soberly for the beach, stopping to look at Miss Defourchet, crouched on +the floor of the store.</p> + +<p>"You'd best see after her, Doctor. Ropes is all we can do for 'em. No +boat ud live in that sea, goin' out."</p> + +<p>Going down through the clammy fog, his feet sinking in the marsh with +the weight he carried, he could see red lights in the mist, gathering +towards shore.</p> + +<p>"It's the wrackers goin' down to be ready for mornin'."</p> + +<p>And in a few moments stood beside them a half-dozen brawny men, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span> +their legs and chests bare. The beach on which they stood glared white +in the yellow light, giving the effect of a landscape in Polar seas. One +or two solitary headlands loomed gloomily up, covered with snow. In +front, the waters at the edge of the sea broke at their feet in long, +solemn, monotonous swells, that reverberated like thunder,—a death-song +for the work going on in the chaos beyond.</p> + +<p>"Thar's no use doin' anything out thar," said one of the men, nodding +gloomily to a black speck in the foaming hell. "She be on the bar this +ten minutes, an' she 's a mean-built craft, that Chief."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't a boat run out from the inlet?" timidly ventured an eager, +blue-eyed little fellow.</p> + +<p>"No, Snap," said Joe, letting his anchor fall, and clearing his throat. +"Well, there be the end of old Ben, hey? Be yer never tired, yer cruel +devil?" turning with a sudden fierceness to the sly foam creeping lazily +about his feet.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence.</p> + +<p>"Bowlegs tried it, but his scow stud still, an' the breakers came atop +as if it war a clam-shell. He warn't five yards from shore. His Ben's +aboard." Another peal of a gun from the schooner broke through the dark +and storm.</p> + +<p>"God! I be sick o' sittin' on shor', an' watchin' men drownin' like rats +on a raft," said Joe, wiping the foam from his thick lips, and trotting +up and down the sand, keeping his back to the vessel.</p> + +<p>Some of the men sat down, their hands clasped about their knees, looking +gravely out.</p> + +<p>"What cud we do, Joey?" said one. "Thar be Hannah an' the children; we +kin give Hannah a lift. But as for Ben, it 's no use thinkin' about Ben +no more."</p> + +<p>The little clam-digger Snap was kindling a fire out of the old +half-burnt wrecks of vessels.</p> + +<p>"It's too late to give 'em warnin'," he said; "but it'll let 'em see +we're watchin' 'em at the last. One ud like friends at the last."</p> + +<p>The fire lighted up the shore, throwing long bars of hot, greenish flame +up the fog.</p> + +<p>"Who be them, Joe?" whispered a wrecker, as two dim figures came down +through the marsh.</p> + +<p>"She hev a sweetheart aboord. Don't watch her."</p> + +<p>The men got up, and moved away, leaving Miss Defourchet alone with +Doctor Dennis. She stood so quiet, her eyes glued on the dull, shaking +shadow yonder on the bar, that he thought she did not care. Two figures +came round from the inlet to where the water shoaled, pulling a narrow +skiff.</p> + +<p>"Hillo!" shouted Doctor Dennis. "Be you mad?"</p> + +<p>The stouter of the figures hobbled up. It was Bowlegs. His voice was +deadened in the cold of the fog, but he wiped the hot sweat from his +face.</p> + +<p>"In God's name, be thar none of ye ull bear a hand with me? Ud ye sit +here an' see 'em drown? Benny's thar,—my Ben."</p> + +<p>Joe shook his head.</p> + +<p>"My best friend be there," said the old Doctor. "But what can ye do? +Your boat will be paper in that sea, Phil."</p> + +<p>"That's so," droned out one or two of the wreckers, dully nodding.</p> + +<p>"Curses on ye for cowards, then!" cried Bowlegs, as he plunged into the +surf, and righted his boat. "Look who's my mate, shame on ye!"</p> + +<p>His mate shoved the skiff out with an oar into the seething breakers, +turning to do it, and showed them, by the far-reaching fire-light, old +Phebe Trull, stripped to her red woollen chemise and flannel petticoat, +her yellow, muscular arms and chest bare. Her peaked old face was set, +and her faded blue eye aflame. She did not hear the cry of horror from +the wreckers.</p> + +<p>"Ye've a better pull than any white-liver of 'em, from Tom's to +Barnegat," gasped Bowlegs, struggling against the surf.</p> + +<p>She was wrestling for life with Death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span> itself; but the quiet, tender +smile did not leave her face.</p> + +<p>"My God! ef I cud pull as when I was a gell!" she muttered. "Derrick, +I'm comin'! I'm comin', boy!"</p> + +<p>The salt spray wet their little fire of logs, beside which Snap sat +crying,—put it out at last, leaving a heap of black cinders. The night +fell heavier and cold; boat and schooner alike were long lost and gone +in outer darkness. As they wandered up and down, chilled and hopeless, +they could not see each other's faces,—only the patch of white sand at +their feet. When they shouted, no gun or cry answered them again. All +was silence, save the awful beat of the surf upon the shore, going on +forever with its count, count of the hours until the time when the sea +shall at last give up its dead.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ben Van Note did not run the Chief in near shore purposely; but the fog +was dense, and Ben was a better sailor than pilot. He took the wheel +himself about an hour before they struck,—the two or three other men at +their work on deck, with haggard, anxious faces, and silent: it is not +the manner of these Jersey coast-men to chatter in heavy weather.</p> + +<p>Philbrick, Doctor Bowdler's boy, lounged beside Ben, twisting a greasy +lantern: "a town-bred fellow," Ben said; "put him in mind of young, rank +cheese."</p> + +<p>"You'd best keep a sharp eye, Van Note," he said; "this is a dirty bit +of water, and you've two great men aboard: one patcher of the body, t' +other of the soul."</p> + +<p>"I vally my own neck more than either," growled Ben, and after a while +forced himself to add, "<i>He</i>'s no backbone,—the little fellow with your +master, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Umph!" superciliously, "I'd like to see the 'little fellow' making neat +bits out of that carcass of yours! His dainty white fingers carve off a +fellow's legs and arms, caring no more than if they were painting +flowers. He is a neat flower-painter, Dr. Birkenshead; moulds in clay, +too."</p> + +<p>He stared as Van Note burst into a coarse guffaw.</p> + +<p>"Flower-painter, eh? Well, well, young man. You'd best go below. It's +dirtier water than you think."</p> + +<p>Doctors Bowdler and Birkenshead were down in the little cabin, reading +by the dull light of a coal-oil lamp. When the vessel began to toss so +furiously, the elder man rose and paced fussily to and fro, rubbing his +fingers through his iron-gray hair. His companion was too much engrossed +by his paper to heed him. He had a small, elegantly shaped figure,—the +famous surgeon,—a dark face, drawn by a few heavy lines; looking at it, +you felt, that, in spite of his womanish delicacies of habit, which lay +open to all, never apologized for, he was a man whom you could not +approach familiarly, though he were your brother born. He stopped +reading presently, slowly folding the newspaper straight, and laying it +down.</p> + +<p>"That is a delicious blunder of the Administration," with a little +gurgling laugh of thorough relish. "You remember La Rochefoucauld's +aphorism, 'One is never so easily deceived as when one seeks to deceive +others'?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Bowdler looked uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"A selfish French Philister, La Rochefoucauld!" he blurted out. "I feel +as if I had been steeped in meanness and vulgarity all my life, when I +read him."</p> + +<p>"He knew men," said the other, coolly, resetting a pocket set of +chessmen on the board where they had been playing,—"Frenchmen," +shortly.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Birkenshead," after a pause, "you appear to have no sympathies +with either side, in this struggle for the nation's life. You neither +attack nor defend our government."</p> + +<p>"In plain English, I have no patriotism? Well, to be honest, I don't +comprehend how any earnest seeker for truth can have. If my country has +truth, so far she nourishes me, and I am grateful; if not,—why, the air +is no purer nor the government more worthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span> of reverence because I +chanced to be born here."</p> + +<p>"Why, Sir," said the Doctor, stopping short and growing red, "you could +apply such an argument as that to a man's feeling for his wife or child +or mother!"</p> + +<p>"So you could," looking closely at the queen to see the carving.</p> + +<p>Doctor Bowdler looked at him searchingly, and then began his angry walk +again in silence. What was the use of answering? No wonder a man who +talked in that way was famed in this country and in Europe for his +coolness and skill in cutting up living bodies. And yet—remorsefully, +looking furtively at him—Birkenshead was not a hard fellow, after all. +There was that pauper-hospital of his; and he had known him turn sick +when operating on children, and damn the people who brought them to him.</p> + +<p>Doctor Bowdler was a little in dread of this future husband of his +niece, feeling there was a great gulf between them intellectually, the +surgeon having a rare power in a line of life of which he knew nothing. +Besides, he could not understand him,—not his homely, keen little face +even. The eyes held their own thought, and never answered yours; but on +the mouth there was a forlorn depression sometimes, like that of a man +who, in spite of his fame, felt himself alone and neglected. It rested +there now, as he idly fingered the chessmen.</p> + +<p>"Mary will kiss it away in time, maybe,"—doubting, as he said it, +whether Mary did not come nearer the man's head than his heart. He +stopped, looking out of the hole by the ladder that served the purpose +of a window.</p> + +<p>"It grows blacker every minute. I shall begin to repent tempting you on +such a harebrained expedition, Doctor."</p> + +<p>"No. This Van Note seems a cautious sailor enough," carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's on his own ground, too. We ought to run into Squan Inlet by +morning. Did you speak?"</p> + +<p>Birkenshead shook his head; the Doctor noticed, however, that his hand +had suddenly stopped moving the chessmen; he rested his chin in the +other.</p> + +<p>"Some case he has left worries him," he thought. "He's not the man to +relish this wild-goose chase of mine. It's bad enough for Mary to jar +against his quiet tastes with her reforming whims, without my"——</p> + +<p>"I would regret bringing you here," he said aloud, "if I did not think +you would find a novelty in this shore and people. This coast is hardly +'canny,' as MacAulay would say. It came, literally, out of the sea. +Sometime, ages ago, it belonged to the bed of the ocean, and it never +has reconciled itself to the life of the land; its Flora is different +from that of the boundaries; if you dig a few feet into its marl, you +find layers of shells belonging to deep soundings, sharks' teeth and +bones, and the like. The people, too, have a 'marvellously fishy and +ancient smell.'"</p> + +<p>The little man at the table suddenly rose, pushing the chessmen from +him.</p> + +<p>"What is there to wonder at?"—with a hoarse, unnatural laugh. "That's +Nature. You cannot make fat pastures out of sea-sand, any more than a +thorough-blood <i>gentilhomme</i> out of a clam-digger. The shark's teeth +will show, do what you will." He pulled at his whiskers nervously, went +to the window, motioning Doctor Bowdler roughly aside. "Let me see what +the night is doing."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman stared in a grave surprise. What had he said to +startle Birkenshead so utterly out of himself? The color had left his +face at the first mention of this beach; his very voice was changed, +coarse and thick, as if some other man had broken out through him. At +that moment, while Doctor Bowdler stood feebly adjusting his +watch-chain, and eying his companion's back, like one who has found a +panther in a domestic cat, and knows not when he will spring, the +tornado struck the ocean a few feet from their side, cleaving a path for +itself into deep watery walls. There was an instant's reeling and +intense darkness, then the old Doctor tried to gather himself up,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span> +bruised and sick, from the companion-way, where he had been thrown.</p> + +<p>"Better lie still," said Birkenshead, in the gentle voice with which he +was used to calm a patient.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman managed to sit up on the floor. By the dull glare of +the cabin-lantern he could see the surgeon sitting on the lower rung of +the ladder, leaning forward, holding his head in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Strike a light, can't you, Birkenshead? What has happened? Bah! this is +horrible! I have swallowed the sea-water! Hear it swash against the +sides of the boat! Is the boat going to pieces?"</p> + +<p>"And there met us 'a tempestuous wind called Euroclydon,'" said +Birkenshead, looking up with a curious smile.</p> + +<p>"Did there?"—rubbing his shoulder. "I've kept clear of the sea so far, +and I think in future—Hark! what's that?" as through the darkness and +the thunderous surge of the water, and the short, fierce calls of the +men on board, came a low shivering crack, distinct as a human whisper. +"What is it, Birkenshead?" impatiently, when the other made no answer.</p> + +<p>"The schooner has struck the bar. She is going to pieces."</p> + +<p>The words recalled the old servant of Christ from his insane fright to +himself.</p> + +<p>"That means death! does it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The two men stood silent,—Doctor Bowdler with his head bent and eyes +closed. He looked up presently.</p> + +<p>"Let us go on deck now and see what we can do,"—turning cheerfully. +"No, there are too many there already."</p> + +<p>There was an old tin life-preserver hanging on a hook by the door; the +surgeon climbed up to get it, and began buckling it about the old man in +spite of his remonstrances. The timbers groaned and strained, the boat +trembled like some great beast in its death-agony, settled heavily, and +then the beams on one side of them parted. They stood on a shelving +plank floor, snapped off two feet from them, the yellow sky overhead, +and the breakers crunching their footing away.</p> + +<p>"O God!" cried Bowdler, when he looked out at the sea. He was not a +brave man; and he could not see it, when he looked; there was but a +horror of great darkness, a thunder of sound, and a chilly creeping of +salt-water up his legs, as if the great monster licked his victim with +his lifeless tongue. Straight in front of them, at the very edge of the +horizon, he thought the little clam-digger's fire opened a tunnel of +greenish light into the night, "dull and melancholy as a scene in +Hades." They saw the men sitting around the blaze with their hands +clasped about their knees, the woman's figure alone, and watching.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" cried the old man, in the shrill extremity of his agony.</p> + +<p>His companion shivered.</p> + +<p>"Take this from me, boy!" cried Doctor Bowdler, trying to tear off the +life-preserver. "It's a chance. I've neither wife nor child to care if I +live or die. You're young; life's beginning for you. I've done with it. +Ugh! this water is deadly cold. Take it, I say."</p> + +<p>"No," said the other, quietly restraining him.</p> + +<p>"Can you swim?"</p> + +<p>"In this sea?"—with a half-smile, and a glance at the tossing breakers.</p> + +<p>"You'll swim? Promise me you'll swim! And if I come to shore and see +Mary?"</p> + +<p>Birkenshead had regained the reticent tone habitual to him.</p> + +<p>"Tell her, I wish I had loved her better. She will understand. I see the +use of love in this last hour."</p> + +<p>"Is there any one else?"</p> + +<p>"There used to be some one. Twenty years ago I said I would come, and +I'm coming now."</p> + +<p>"I don't hear you."</p> + +<p>Birkenshead laughed at his own thought, whatever it was. The devil who +had tempted him might have found in the laugh an outcry more bitter than +any agony of common men.</p> + +<p>The planks beneath their feet sank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span> inch by inch. They were shut off +from the larboard side of the vessel. For a time they had heard oaths +and cries from the other men, but now all was silent.</p> + +<p>"There is no help coming from shore,"—(the old man's voice was +weakening,)—"and this footing is giving way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's going. Lash your arms to me by your braces, Doctor. I can +help you for a few moments."</p> + +<p>So saying, Birkenshead tore off his own coat and waistcoat; but as he +turned, the coming breaker dashed over their heads, he heard a faint +gasp, and when his eyes were clear of the salt, he saw the old man's +gray hair in the midst of a sinking wave.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could have saved him," he said,—then made his way as best he +could by feet and hands to a bulk of timber standing out of the water, +and sitting down there, clutched his hands about his knees, very much as +he used to do when he was a clam-digger and watched the other boys +bringing in their hauls.</p> + +<p>"Twenty years ago I said I'd come, and I'm coming," he went on +repeating.</p> + +<p>Derrick Trull was no coward, as boy or man, but he made no effort to +save himself; the slimy water washed him about like a wet rag. He was +alone now, if never before in those twenty years; his world of +beautiful, cultured, graceful words and sights and deeds was not here, +it was utterly gone out; there was no God here, that he thought of; he +was quite alone: so, in sight of this lee coast, the old love in that +life dead years ago roused, and the mean crime dragged on through every +day since gnawed all the manliness and courage out of him.</p> + +<p>She would be asleep now, old Phebe Trull,—in the room off the brick +kitchen, her wan limbs curled up under her check nightgown, her pipe and +noggin of tea on the oven-shelf; he could smell the damp, musty odor of +the slop-sink near by. What if he could reach shore? What if he were to +steal up to her bed and waken her?</p> + +<p>"It's Derrick, back, mother," he would say. How the old creature would +skirl and cry over her son Derrick!—Derrick! he hated the name. It +belonged to that time of degradation and stinting and foulness.</p> + +<p>Doctor Birkenshead lifted himself up. Pish! the old fish-wife had long +since forgotten her scapegrace son,—thought him dead. <i>He was dead.</i> He +wondered—and this while every swash of the salt-water brought death +closer up to his lips—if Miss Defourchet had seen "Mother Phebe." +Doubtless she had, and had made a sketch of her to show him;—but no, +she was not a picturesque pauper,—vulgar, simply. The water came up +closer; the cold of it, and the extremity of peril, or, maybe, this old +gnawing at the heart, more virulent than either, soon drew the strength +out of his body: close study and high living had made the joints less +supple than Derrick Trull's: he lay there limp and unable,—his brain +alert, but fickle. It put the watery death out of sight, and brought his +familiar every-day life about him: the dissecting-room; curious cases +that had puzzled him; drawing-rooms, beautiful women; he sang airs from +the operas, sad, broken little snatches, in a deep, mellow voice, finely +trained,—fragments of a litany to the Virgin. Birkenshead's love of +beauty was a hungry monomania; his brain was filled with memories of the +pictures of the Ideal Mother and her Son. One by one they came to him +now, the holy woman-type which for ages supplied to the world that +tenderness and pity which the Church had stripped from God. Even in his +delirium the man of fastidious instincts knew this was what he craved; +even now he remembered other living mothers he had known, delicate, +nobly born women, looking on their babes with eyes full of all gracious +and pure thoughts. With the sharp contrast of a dream came the old +clam-digger, barefoot in the mud, her basket of soiled clothes on her +shoulder,—her son Derrick, a vulgar lad, aping gentility, behind her. +Closer and closer came the waters; a shark's gray hide glittered a few +feet from him. Death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span> sure of his prey, nibbled and played with it; in +a little while he lay supine and unconscious.</p> + +<p>Reason came back to him like an electric shock; for all the parts of Dr. +Birkenshead's organization were instinctive, nervous, like a woman's. +When it came, the transient delirium had passed; he was his cool, +observant self. He lay on the wet floor of a yawl skiff, his head +resting on a man's leg; the man was rowing with even, powerful strokes, +and he could feel rather than see in the darkness a figure steering. He +was saved. His heart burned with a sudden glorious glow of joy, and +genial, boyish zest of life,—one of the excesses of his nature. He +tried to speak, but his tongue was stiff, his throat dry; he could have +caressed the man's slimy sleeve that touched his cheek, he was so glad +to live. The boatman was in no humor for caresses; he drew his labored +breath sharply, fighting the waves, rasping out a sullen oath when they +baffled him. The little surgeon had tact enough to keep silent; he did +not care to talk, either. Life rose before him a splendid possibility, +as never before. From the silent figure at the helm came neither word +nor motion. Presently a bleak morning wind mingled with the fierce, +incessant nor'easter; the three in the yawl, all sea-bred, knew the +difference.</p> + +<p>"Night ull break soon," said Bowlegs.</p> + +<p>It did break in an hour or two into a ghastly gray dawn, bitter +cold,—the slanting bars of sharp light from beyond the sea-line falling +on the bare coast, on a headland of which moved some black, uneasy +figures.</p> + +<p>"Th' wrackers be thar."</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Starboard! Hoy, Mother Phebe!"</p> + +<p>She swayed her arms round, her head still fallen on her breast. Doctor +Birkenshead, from his half-shut eyes, could see beside him the +half-naked, withered old body, in its dripping flannel clothes, God! it +had come, then, the time to choose! It was she who had saved, him! she +was here,—alive!</p> + +<p>"Mother!" he cried, trying to rise.</p> + +<p>But the word died in his dry throat; his body, stiff and icy cold, +refused to move.</p> + +<p>"What ails ye?" growled the man, looking at her. "Be ye giv' out so near +land? We've had a jolly seinin' together," laughing savagely, "ef we did +miss the fish we went for, an' brought in this herrin'."</p> + +<p>"Thee little brother's safe, Bowlegs," said the old woman, in a feeble, +far-off voice. "My boy ull bring him to shore."</p> + +<p>The boatman gulped back his breath; it sounded like a cry, but he +laughed it down.</p> + +<p>"You think yer Derrick ull make shore, eh? Well, I don't think that ar +way o' Ben. Ben's gone under. It's not often the water gets a +ten-year-older like that. I raised him. It was I sent him with Van Note +this run. That makes it pleasanter now!" The words were grating out +stern and sharp.</p> + +<p>"Thee knows Derrick said he'd come," the woman said simply.</p> + +<p>She stooped with an effort, after a while, and, thrusting her hand under +Doctor Birkenshead's shirt, felt his chest.</p> + +<p>"It's a mere patchin' of a body. He's warm yet. Maybe," looking closely +into the face, "he'd have seen my boy aboord, an' could say which way he +tuk. A drop of raw liquor ull bring him round."</p> + +<p>Phil glanced contemptuously at the surgeon's fine linen, and the diamond +<i>solitaire</i> on the small, white hand.</p> + +<p>"It's not likely that chap ud know the deck-hands. It's the man Doctor +Dennis was expectin'."</p> + +<p>"Ay?" vaguely.</p> + +<p>She kept her hand on the feebly beating heart, chafing it. He lay there, +looking her straight in the eyes; in hers—dull with the love and +waiting of a life—there was no instinct of recognition. The kind, +simple, blue eyes, that had watched his baby limbs grow and strengthen +in her arms! How gray the hair was! but its bit of curl was in it yet. +The same dear old face that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span> used to hurry home at night to see! +Nobody had loved him but this woman,—never; if he could but struggle up +and get his head on her breast! How he used to lie there when he was a +big boy, listening to the same old stories night after night,—the same +old stories! Something homely and warm and true was waking in him +to-night that had been dead for years and years; this was no matter of +æsthetics or taste, it was real, <i>real</i>. He wondered if people felt in +this way who had homes, or those simple folk who loved the Lord.</p> + +<p>Inch by inch, with hard, slow pulls, they were gaining shore. Mary +Defourchet was there. If he came to her as the clam-digger's bastard +son, owning the lie he had practised half his life,—what then? He had +fought hard for his place in the world, for the ease and culture of his +life,—most of all, for the society of thorough-bred and refined men, +his own kindred. What would they say to Derrick Trull, and the mother he +had kept smothered up so long? All this with his eyes fixed on hers. The +cost was counted. It was to give up wife and place and fame,—all he had +earned. It had not been cheaply earned. All Doctor Birkenshead's habits +and intellect, the million nervous whims of a sensitive man, rebelled +against the sacrifice. Nothing to battle them down but—what?</p> + +<p>"Be ye hurt, Mother Phebe? What d'yer hold yer breath for?"</p> + +<p>She evaded him with a sickly smile.</p> + +<p>"We're gamin', Bowlegs. It's but a few minutes till we make shore. He'll +be there, if—if he be ever to come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Gran," with a look of pity.</p> + +<p>The wind stood still; it held its breath, as though with her it waited. +The man strained against the tide till the veins in his brawny neck +stood out purple. On the bald shore, the dim figures gathered in a +cluster, eagerly watching. Old Phebe leaned forward, shading her eyes +with her hand, peering from misty headland to headland with bated +breath. A faint cheer reached them from land.</p> + +<p>"Does thee know the voices, Bowlegs?"—in a dry whisper.</p> + +<p>"It be the wreckers."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—Derrick," after a pause, "would be too weak to cheer; he'd be worn +with the swimmin'. Thee must listen sharp. Did they cry my name out? as +if there was some 'ut for me?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mother," gruffly. "But don't ye lose heart after twenty years' +waitin'."</p> + +<p>"I'll not."</p> + +<p>As he pulled, the boatman looked over at her steadily.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed what this was for ye, till now I've loss Ben," he said, +gently. "It's as if you'd been lossin' him every day these twenty +years."</p> + +<p>She did not hear him; her eyes, straining, scanned the shore; she seemed +to grow blind as they came nearer; passed her wet sleeve over them again +and again.</p> + +<p>"Thee look for me, Bowlegs," she said, weakly.</p> + +<p>The yawl grated on the shallow waters of the bar; the crowd rushed down +to the edge of the shore, the black figures coming out distinct now, +half a dozen of the wreckers going into the surf and dragging the boat +up on the beach. She turned her head out to sea, catching his arm with +both hands.</p> + +<p>"Be there any strange face to shore? Thee didn't know him. A little +face, full o' th' laugh an' joke, an' brown curls blown by the wind."</p> + +<p>"The salt's in my eyes. I can't rightly see, Mother Phebe."</p> + +<p>The surgeon saw Doctor Bowdler waiting, pale and haggard, his fat little +arms outstretched: the sea had spared him by some whim, then. When the +men lifted him out, another familiar face looked down on him: it was +Mary. She had run into the surf with them, and held his head in her +arms.</p> + +<p>"I love you! I love you!" she sobbed, kissing his hand.</p> + +<p>"There be a fire up by the bathing-houses, an' hot coffee," said old +Doctor Dennis, with a kindly, shrewd glance at the famous surgeon. "Miss +Defourchet and Snap made it for you. <i>She</i> knew you, lying in the +yawl."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span></p> + +<p>Birkenshead, keeping her hand, turned to the forlorn figure standing +shivering alone, holding both palms pressed to her temples, her gray +hair and clothes dripping.</p> + +<p>"Thee don't tell me that he's here, Bowlegs," she said. "There might be +some things the wrackers hes found up in the bathin'-houses. There +might,—in the bathin'-houses. It's the last day,—it's twenty year"——</p> + +<p>Doctor Birkenshead looked down at the beautiful flushed face pressed +close to his side, then pushed it slowly from him. He went over to where +the old woman stood, and kneeled beside her in the sand, drawing her +down to him.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, "it's Derrick, mother. Don't you know your boy?"</p> + +<p>With the words the boy's true spirit seemed to come back to +him,—Derrick Trull again, who went with such a hot, indignant heart to +win money and place for the old mother at home. He buried his head in +her knees, as she crouched over him, silent, passing her hands quickly +and lightly over his face.</p> + +<p>"God forgive me!" he cried. "Take my head in your arms, mother, as you +used to do. Nobody has loved me as you did. Mother! mother!"</p> + +<p>Phebe Trull did not speak one word. She drew her son's head close into +her trembling old arms, and held it there motionless. It was an old way +she had of caressing him.</p> + +<p>Doctor Dennis drew the eager, wondering crowd away from them.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said Doctor Bowdler, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"I do," said his niece, and, sitting down in the sand, looked out +steadfastly to sea.——</p> + +<p>Bow-legged Phil drove the anchor into the beach, and pulled it idly out +again.</p> + +<p>"I've some 'ut here for you, Phil," said Joe, gravely. "The water washed +it up."</p> + +<p>The fellow's teeth chattered as he took it.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye know what it is?" fiercely. "Only a bit of a Scotch +cap,"—holding it up on his fist. "I bought it down at Port Monmouth, +Saturday, for him. I was a-goin' to take him home this week up to the +old folks in Connecticut. I kin take <i>that</i> instead, an' tell 'em whar +our Benny is."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Joe, his eye twinkling as he looked over Phil's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>A fat little hand slapped the said shoulder, and "Hillo, Bowlegs!" came +in a small shout in his ear. Phil turned, looked at the boy from head to +foot, gulped down one or two heavy breaths.</p> + +<p>"Hi! you young vagabond, you!" he said, and went suddenly back to his +anchor, keeping his head down on his breast for a long while.——</p> + +<p>He had piled up the sand at her back to make her a seat while they +waited for the wagons. Now he sat on her skirts, holding her hands to +warm them. He had almost forgotten Mary and the Doctor. Nature or +instinct, call it what you will, some subtile whim of blood called love, +brought the old clam-digger nearer to him than all the rest of the +world. He held the bony fingers tight, looked for an old ring she used +to wear, tried to joke to bring out the flicker of a smile on her mouth, +leaned near to catch her breath. He remembered how curiously sweet it +used to be, like new milk.</p> + +<p>The dawn opened clear and dark blue; the sun yet waited below the stormy +sea. Though they sat there a long while, she was strangely quiet,—did +not seem so much afraid of him as she used to be when he began to rise +above her,—held his hand, with a bright, contented face, and said +little else than "My boy! my boy!" under her breath. Her eyes followed +every movement of his face with an insatiate hunger; yet the hesitation +and quiet in her motions and voice were unnatural. He asked her once or +twice if she were ill.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit, an' I'll tell thee, Derrick," she said. "Thee must remember +I'm not as young as I was then," with a smile. "Thee must speak fast, my +son. I'd like to hear of thee gran' home, if thee's willin'."</p> + +<p>He told her, as he would to please a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span> child, of the place and fame and +wealth he had won; but it had not the effect he expected. Before he had +finished, the look in her eyes grew vague and distant. Some thought in +the poor clam-digger's soul made these things but of little moment. She +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"There be one yonner that loves my boy. I'd like to speak a word to her +before—Call her, Derrick."</p> + +<p>He rose and beckoned to Miss Defourchet. When she came near, and saw the +old woman's face, she hurried, and, stooping down quickly, took her head +in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Derrick has come back to you," she said. "Will you let him bring me +with him to call you mother?"</p> + +<p>"Mary?"</p> + +<p>She did not look at him. Old Phebe pushed her back with a searching +look.</p> + +<p>"Is it true love you'll give my boy?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try." In a lower voice,—"I never loved him so well as when he +came back to you."</p> + +<p>The old woman was silent a long time.</p> + +<p>"Thee's right. It was good for Derrick to come back to me. I don't know +what that big world be like where thee an' Derrick's been. The sea keeps +talkin' of it, I used to think; it's kep' moanin' with the cries of it. +But the true love at home be worth it all. I knowed that always. I kep' +it for my boy. He went from it, but it brought him back. Out of the sea +it brought him back."</p> + +<p>He knew this was not his mother's usual habit of speech. Some great +truth seemed coming closer to the old fish-wife, lifting her forever out +of her baser self. She leaned on the girl beside her, knowing her, in +spite of blood and education, to be no truer woman than herself. The +inscrutable meaning of the eyes deepened. The fine, sad smile came on +the face, and grew fixed there. She was glad he had come,—that was all. +Mary was a woman; her insight was quicker.</p> + +<p>"Where are you hurt?" she said, softly.</p> + +<p>"Hush! don't fret the boy. It was the pullin' last night, think. I'm not +as strong as when I was a gell."</p> + +<p>They sat there, watching the dawn break into morning. Over the sea the +sky opened into deeps of silence and light. The surf rolled in, in long, +low, grand breakers, like riders to a battle-field, tossing back their +gleaming white plumes of spray when they touched the shore. But the wind +lulled as though something more solemn waited on the land than the sea's +rage or the quiet of the clouds.</p> + +<p>"Does thee mind, Derrick," said his mother, with a low laugh, "how thee +used to play with this curl ahint my ear? When thee was a bit baby, thee +begun it. I've kep' it ever since. It be right gray now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother."</p> + +<p>He had crept closer to her now. In the last half-hour his eyes had grown +clearer. He dared not look away from her. Joe and Bowlegs had drawn +near, and Doctor Bowdler. They stood silent, with their hats off. Doctor +Bowdler felt her pulse, but her son did not touch it. His own hand was +cold and clammy; his heart sick with a nameless dread. Was he, then, +just too late?</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did. I kep' it for thee, Derrick. I always knowed thee'd +come,"—in a lower voice. "There's that dress, too. I'd like thee to've +seen me in that; but"——</p> + +<p>"Take her hands in yours," whispered Mary.</p> + +<p>"Is it thee, my son?"—with a smile. After a long pause,—"I kep' it, +an' I kep' true love for thee, Derrick. God brought thee back for 't, I +think. It be the best, after all. He'll bring thee to me for 't at th' +last, my boy,—my boy!"</p> + +<p>As the faint voice lingered and died upon the words, the morning sun +shone out in clear, calm glory over the still figures on the beach. The +others had crept away, and left the three alone with God and His great +angel, in whose vast presence there is no life save Love, no future save +Love's wide eternity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MY_STUDENT_LIFE_AT_HOFWYL" id="MY_STUDENT_LIFE_AT_HOFWYL"></a>MY STUDENT LIFE AT HOFWYL.</h2> + + +<p>There flourished, in the heart of the Swiss Republic, during some twenty +or twenty-five years, commencing about the year 1810, an educational +institution, in the nature of a private college, which, though it +attracted much public attention at the time, being noticed with +commendation, as I remember, in a report made by the Count Capo d'Istria +to the Emperor Alexander of Russia, yet has never, I think, been +appreciated at its full deserts, nor generally recognized for the +admirable institution it was,—unparalleled, in the character of the +spirit which pervaded it, and in many of the practical results obtained, +by any establishment for learning that has ever come under my +observation.</p> + +<p>I was educated there, from the age of sixteen or seventeen to twenty. +Passing into its tranquil scenes from the quiet of home and the hands of +a private tutor, with the sunny hopes and high ideal and scanty +experience of youth, much that I found there appeared to me at the time +but natural and in the ordinary course of things, which now, by the +light of a life's teachings, and by comparison with the realities as I +have found them, seems to me, as I look back, rather in the nature of a +dream of fancy, tinged with the glamour of optimism, than like the +things one really meets with in the work-a-day world. I say this, after +making what I think due allowance for the Claude-Lorraine tints in which +youth is wont to invest its early recollections.</p> + +<p>It was one of several public institutions for education founded by the +benevolent enterprise of a very remarkable man. <span class="smcap">Emanuel von Fellenberg</span> +was born of a patrician family of Bern. His father had been a member of +the Swiss Government, and a friend of the celebrated Pestalozzi,—a +friendship which descended to the son. His mother was a descendant of +the stout Van Tromp, the Dutch admiral, who was victor in more than +thirty engagements, and whose spirit and courage she is said to have +inherited. To this noble woman young Fellenberg owed ideas of liberty +and philanthropy beyond the age in which he lived and the aristocratic +class to which he belonged.</p> + +<p>Educated at Colmar and Tübingen, the years immediately succeeding his +college life were spent in travels, which brought him, at the age of +twenty-three, and just after the death of Robespierre, to Paris, where +he had an opportunity of studying men in the subsiding tumult of a +terrible revolution.</p> + +<p>The result appears to have been a conviction that the true element of +human progress was to be found less in correction of the adult than in +training of the youth. His mind imbued with the two great ideas of +freedom and education, he returned to his native Bern; but taking part +there against the French, he was banished, remaining in Germany an exile +for several years, and during that period planning emigration, with +several friends, to the United States. This intention he abandoned, on +being recalled to his native country, and there offered important +diplomatic and military service. In the latter capacity he quelled an +insurrection of the peasantry in the Oberland; but, prompted by that +sympathy for the laboring classes which was a strong element in his +character, he granted these people terms so liberal that his Government +refused to ratify them, whereupon he threw up his commission, recurring +to his favorite educational projects, and serving for a time on the +Board of Education in Bern.</p> + +<p>But it soon became apparent that the ideas of his colleagues and himself +differed too widely to permit united action. They were thinking of the +commonplace routine of school instruction,—reading, writing, +arithmetic, and the like. He looked to education as the regenerating +agent of the world,—that agent without the aid of which liberty runs +into license,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span> and the rule of the many, as he had witnessed it in +terror-stricken France, may become one of the worst forms of despotism. +He looked beyond mere pedagogical routine or formal learning, to the +living spirit,—to the harmonious development of every human faculty and +affection, intellectual, moral, spiritual.</p> + +<p>Resigning his situation on the Bernese Board of Education, Fellenberg +expended a large fortune in the purchase of the estate of <span class="smcap">Hofwyl</span>, about +two leagues from Bern, and the erection there of the building necessary +to carry into effect his own peculiar views.</p> + +<p>It was a favorite idea of his, that society can be most effectually +influenced for good by training its extremes in social position: those, +on the one hand, who are born to wealth and station, whence are usually +chosen lawgivers, statesmen, leaders of public opinion; and those, on +the other hand, born to a heritage of ignorance and neglect, and too +often trained even from tender age to vice and violence. He sought to +bring these extremes of European society into harmonious relation with +each other,—to raise the one from hereditary dependence and +degradation, to imbue the other with healthy ideas of true nobility in +place of the morbid prejudices of artificial rank. In both these efforts +he was eminently successful,—in the latter, more so, in my judgment, +than any educator of his age.</p> + +<p>The establishments of Hofwyl proper<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> were, accordingly, two in number, +quite distinct from each other: the <i>Vehrli-Knaben</i>, (Vehrli's boys,) as +they were called, from the name of their admirable young teacher, +Vehrli, essentially an agricultural school, on the manual-labor +principle; and the college, of which it is my chief object to sketch the +plan and its results. To this latter institution, in consequence of the +numerous and expensive branches taught and the great number of +professors employed, (about one to each four students,) those only, with +few exceptions, could obtain admission whose parents possessed ample +means,—the exceptions being the sons of a few of Fellenberg's Swiss +friends, in moderate circumstances, whom, when they showed great +promise, he admitted with little or no charge. It was by associating +these with his own children in their studies that the nucleus of this +college was originally formed.</p> + +<p>From their very inception, these projects met with discouragement and +opposition, especially from the patrician class, to which Fellenberg +belonged. Even in republican Switzerland, these men held that their rank +exonerated them from any occupation that savored much of utility; and it +was with a feeling almost of dishonor to their order that they saw one +of their number stoop (it was thus they phrased it) to the ignoble task +of preceptor. It need hardly be said that Fellenberg held on his way, +undisturbed by the idle noise of prejudice like this.</p> + +<p>Into the Vehrli school were received destitute orphans, foundlings, and +those whose parents were too indigent to provide for their education. +Their time was divided nearly equally between the labors of the field +and the lessons of the school. They were trained as farmers and +teachers. Besides the ordinary branches, they were well grounded in +botany and drawing, and made great proficiency in vocal music. Vehrli +devoted himself, heart and soul, to the instruction of these children. +He worked with them, studied with them, wore the same homely dress, +partook of the same plain fare, slept in the same dormitory,—in short, +spent his life wholly among them. After a time his pupils were in great +request throughout Europe, both as teachers and as agricultural +superintendents. I found one of them, when many years since I visited +Holland, intrusted with the care of a public seminary supported by the +Dutch Government, and his employers highly appreciated his character and +abilities. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span> children remained till they were of age, repaying by +their labor in the latter years a portion of the expenses of their early +education. Ultimately this school became nearly self-supporting.</p> + +<p>Between Vehrli's children, as we used to call them, and ourselves there +was not much communication. We met occasionally only; but when we did +meet, there existed the most friendly relations between us. I saw but +little of the internal arrangements of that establishment, and am +unable, at this distance of time, to furnish detailed information +regarding it. I proceed to give some account of the college, of which, +for three years, I was a student.</p> + +<p>Of that little republic it can truly be said, that its tranquillity was +never disturbed by one dividing prejudice of rank, of country, or of +religion. We had among our number (usually amounting to one hundred +students) dukes and princes, some of them related to crowned heads; and +we had the recipients, already alluded to, of Fellenberg's bounty; but +not in word or bearing was there aught to mark difference of artificial +rank. We had Swiss, Germans, Russians, Prussians, Dutch, French, +Italians, English, and I know not what other nationalities; but not one +unkindly sentiment or illiberal prejudice arose among us on account of +birthplace. We had Protestants, Catholics, members of the Greek Church, +and members of no church at all; but never, in language or feeling, did +I perceive any shade of coldness or aversion that had its rise in +theological differences. Fellenberg had succeeded in instilling into our +little community his own noble principles of republican dignity, +cosmopolitan amity, and religious toleration.</p> + +<p>No one was addressed by his title; and to the tuft-hunters of English +universities it will appear scarcely credible that I lived several weeks +as a student at Hofwyl before I accidentally learned who were the +princes and other nobles, and who the objects of M. de Fellenberg's +charity. It was, I think, some six weeks or two months after my arrival +that I was conversing with a good-natured fellow-student, with whom I +had become well acquainted under his familiar nickname of <i>Stösser</i>. I +remarked to him that before I reached Hofwyl I had heard that there were +several noblemen there, and I asked what had become of them.</p> + +<p>"Why," said he, smiling, "they are here still."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said I; "which are they?"</p> + +<p>He requested me to guess. I named several of the students who had +appeared to me to have the greatest consideration among their fellows. +He shook his head, and laughed. "These are all merchants and commoners. +Try again." I did so, but with no better success; and at last he named, +to my surprise, several young men who had seemed to me to have but an +indifferent share of influence or respect,—among the rest, one who was +slightingly treated, and avoided rather than sought, by his companions. +He was the nephew of the King of Würtemberg.</p> + +<p>A day or two afterwards I chanced to learn that the young man whom I had +thus questioned was himself a Russian prince, grandson of the noted +Suwaroff,—Catharine's Suwaroff. He had charge of our flock of goats, of +which I shall by-and-by have occasion to speak; and he took to the +office very kindly.</p> + +<p>In like manner, it might have puzzled me, after a three-years' +residence, to call to mind whether those with whom I was as intimate as +with my own brother were Protestants or Catholics or neither; and at +this distance of time I have forgotten. The reason is simple: we never +debated on theological subjects at all. M. de Fellenberg read to us +occasional lectures on religion; but they were practical, not +doctrinal,—embracing those essentials which belong to all Christian +sects, thus suiting Protestant and Catholic alike. The Catholics, it is +true, had from time to time a priest to confess them, who doubtless +enjoined the regular weekly fast; yet we of the Protestant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span> persuasion +used, I believe, to eat as much fish and as many frogs on Fridays as +they.</p> + +<p>A striking feature in our system of instruction was the absence of all +punishment, except such as was self-inflicted, under a code of laws of +our own, hereafter to be noticed. Twice, or perhaps three times, during +the term of my residence, one of the pupils, on account of repeated +inattention, or for similar venial cause, was requested by the +professor, during the course of the recitation, to leave the room. But +this was quite an event, to be talked of for a week, so contrary was it +to the regular, quiet, uncoercing routine of the institution. No +expulsion ever occurred. I do not myself remember to have received, +either from M. de Fellenberg or from any of his professors, one harsh +word during the three happy years I spent at Hofwyl.</p> + +<p>The mildness with which the students were treated by their instructors +reacted upon them in their intercourse with each other. Duels, so common +among the students of German universities, were an unheard-of absurdity, +though we had a fencing-master, and took regular lessons in the use of +the small sword, skill in the management of which was considered an +indispensable item in the education of a gentleman. Quarrels such as +elsewhere terminate in blows were scarcely known among us. I recall but +two, both of which were immediately arrested by the spectators, who felt +their college dishonored by such an exhibition of evil passion and +violence. One of these was commenced by a youth coming only two weeks +before from an English school. The other occurred, one evening when a +small party of us had assembled in a private room, between a fiery young +Prussian count and a sturdy, unbending Swiss. The dispute grew warm, and +was about to proceed to extremities, when we who were by-standers made +no scruple to terminate it in our own way. We pounced upon the +disputants without warning, carried them off, each to his own room, on +our shoulders, and there, with a hearty laugh at their folly, set them +down to cool. All this was done so suddenly and so good-naturedly that +they themselves could not refrain from joining in the merriment which so +whimsical a conclusion to their quarrel had elicited.</p> + +<p>I have heard and read much of the pluck and manliness that are supposed +to grow out of the English habit of settling school quarrels by boxing, +after the fashion of prize-fighters in the ring. But I do not think it +would have been a very safe experiment for one of these pugilistic young +gentlemen to offer an insult to a Hofwyl student, even though the +manhood of this latter had never been tested by pounding another's face +with his fist. Brutality and cowardice are often close allies; and his +anger, when roused, is most to be dreaded, who so bears himself as to +give no one just cause of offence. Boxing-matches and duels are +becoming, as they ought to be, like the ordeal by combat, antiquated +modes of testing the courage or settling the disputes whether of boys or +men, among the civilized portion of mankind.</p> + +<p>But though little prone to quarrel, our indignation, I must confess, was +sometimes readily enough roused, when occasion called it forth. I +remember an instance in which, perhaps, the conservative portion of my +readers may think we carried matters somewhat to an extreme.</p> + +<p>It happened that three officers of distinction from the Court of +Würtemberg arrived, one day, on a visit to M. de Fellenberg. They +desired to see their sovereign's nephew, the same Prince Alexander of +Würtemberg to whom I have already alluded as being no favorite among us. +He was accordingly sent for; and the interview took place in an open +space in front of M. de Fellenberg's <i>Schloss</i>, where four or five +students, of whom I was one, happened to be at the time, not more than +eight or ten steps distant. The officers, as they approached the Prince, +uncovered, and stood, during the conversation which ensued, with their +plumed hats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span> in their hands. The young man, on the contrary, whose silly +airs had been a chief cause of his unpopularity among us, did not remove +the little student-cap he wore, but remained covered, without any +intimation to his visitors to resume their hats.</p> + +<p>This was too much for us. "Do look!" said one of our group,—"if there +isn't that fellow Alexander standing with his cap on, and letting these +officers talk to him bareheaded!" And then, raising his voice so as to +be heard by the parties concerned, he said,—"Alexander, take off your +cap!"</p> + +<p>But the cap did not stir. We took a step or two nearer, and another of +our party said,—</p> + +<p>"Alexander, if you don't take that cap off, yourself, I'll come and take +it off for you."</p> + +<p>This time the admonition had effect. The cap was slowly removed, and we +remained to make sure that it was not resumed, until the officers, +bowing low, took their leave,—carrying, I fear, to their royal master +no very favorable report touching the courtly manners of Hofwyl.</p> + +<p>It was small marvel that an institution of practice so democratically +heterodox should awaken the jealousy of European legitimacy. And it was +probably with feelings more of sorrow than surprise, that Fellenberg, +about the year 1822, received from the Austrian authorities a formal +intimation that no Austrian subject would thereafter be allowed to enter +the college, and an order that those who were then studying there should +instantly return home. Than this tyrannical edict of the Austrian +autocrat,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> the same who did not blush to declare "that he desired to +have loyal subjects, not learned men, in his dominions," no greater +compliment could have been paid to Fellenberg or his institutions.</p> + +<p>The course of instruction pursued at Hofwyl included the study of the +Greek, Latin, French, and German languages, the last of which was the +language of our college,—history, geography, chemistry, +mechanics,—mathematics, in a thorough course, embracing the highest +branches,—drawing, and music, vocal and instrumental,—and, finally, +riding, fencing, and gymnastics. The recitations (<i>Stunden</i>, that is, +<i>hours</i>, we called them, for each lasted a single hour only) were +essentially conversational. The lessons in drawing, however, extended to +two consecutive hours, and included copying from the antique. There was +a riding-school and a considerable stud attached to the college; and the +highest class were in the habit of riding out once a week with M. de +Fellenberg, many of whose practical life-lessons, given as I rode by his +side during these pleasant excursions, I well remember yet.</p> + +<p>The number of professors was large, compared to that of the taught, +being from twenty-five to thirty, though the college seldom contained +more than one hundred students. The number in each class was small, +usually from ten to fifteen.</p> + +<p>Latin and Greek, though thoroughly taught, did not engross the same +proportion of time which in many other colleges is devoted to them. Not +more time was given to each than to ancient and modern history, and less +than to mathematics. This last was a special object of study. It was +taught, as was history, by extempore lectures, while the students took +notes in short-hand; and we seldom employed any printed work to aid us, +in the evening, in making out from recollection, aided by these notes, a +written statement of the propositions and their solution, to be handed, +next day, to the professor. This plan impressed on our minds, not indeed +the exact form of words or the particular set of phrases of the books, +but the essential principles of the science,—so that, when, in after +years, amid the business of life, details and demonstrations had faded +from my memory, I have never found difficulty in working these out +afresh, and recalling and rearranging them, without aid from books.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span></p> + +<p>One little incident connected with my mathematical studies still comes +back to me with a pleasant impression. My chief college friend was young +De Saussure, grandson of the naturalist of that name, who, the first +with a single exception, reached the summit of Mont Blanc. The subject +of our lecture was some puzzling proposition in the differential +calculus, and De Saussure propounded to the professor a knotty +difficulty in connection with it. The professor replied +unsatisfactorily. My friend still pressed his point, and the professor +rejoined very learnedly and ingeniously, but without really meeting the +case; whereupon De Saussure silently assented, as if quite satisfied.</p> + +<p>"You were <i>not</i> satisfied with that explanation," said I to De Saussure, +as we walked to our rooms.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," was his reply; "but would you have had me before the +class shame the good man who takes so much pains with us and is usually +so clear-headed? We must work it out ourselves to-night."</p> + +<p>This trifle may afford a glimpse of the relation between professor and +student at Hofwyl. There was no antagonism between them. The former was +regarded, not as a pedagogue, from whom to stand aloof,—not, because of +his position of authority, as a natural enemy, to be resisted, so far as +resistance was safe,—but as an elder friend, whom it was a privilege +(and it was one often enjoyed) to converse with, out of college hours, +in a familiar way. During the hours of recreation, the professors +frequently joined in our games. Nor did I observe that this at all +diminished the respect we entertained for them or the progress we made +under their care.</p> + +<p>Emulation was limited among us to that which naturally arises among +young men prosecuting the same studies. It was not artificially excited. +There were no prizes; there was no taking rank in classes; there was not +even the excitement of public examinations. Many may think this a +hazardous experiment. I am not sure whether classical proficiency did +not, to a certain extent, suffer from it. I am not sure whether some +sluggards did not, because of it, lag behind. Yet the general +proficiency in learning was satisfactory; and the student, when he +entered the world, missed no college excitants, but bore with him a love +and a habit of study needing no spur, and which insured the continuance +of education far beyond the term of his college years. For he had +learned to seek knowledge for itself, for the pleasing occupation it +brings, for the power it gives, for the satisfaction it leaves behind; +and he required no more highly seasoned inducements to continue the +search through life.</p> + +<p>Yet it was not the peculiar mode of imparting instruction, nor yet the +variety, the extent, and the utility of the knowledge acquired, that +chiefly characterized the institution of the Swiss patriot. It was the +noble spirit of freedom, the purity of motive, the independence of +purpose, the honesty of conduct, the kindness of intercourse, the union +and forbearance and high-spirited republicanism, pervading alike our +hours of study, of amusement, and of social converse. These it was that +distinguished Hofwyl; and these it is that still cause its former pupils +to look back on the years spent within its peaceful precincts as the +best and the happiest of their lives.</p> + +<p>To such results there mainly contributed a remarkable feature in the +economy of the institution I have been describing,—a feature, so far as +I know, not adopted in any similar institution, at least to the extent +to which it was carried by us.</p> + +<p>I have said that reward and punishment by the college authorities, or by +M. de Fellenberg, their head, were virtually excluded from this system. +Considering the heterogeneous materials that were collected together +from half the nations of the world, some having been nursed and petted +in the lap of aristocracy, and others, probably, sent thither because +their parents could not manage them at home,—considering,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span> too, the +comparatively late age at which students enter such a college, many of +them just from schools where severity was the rule and artificial reward +the stimulant,—considering all this, I doubt whether the mild, +uncoercing, paternal government of Hofwyl would have been a success, but +for the peculiarity here referred to coming in aid of our teachers, and +supplying motives and restraints to ourselves. It was in this wise.</p> + +<p>Hofwyl was not only an institution for education, it was also an +independent, self-governing community. It had its code of laws, its +council of legislation, its court of judges, its civil and military +officers, its public treasury. It had its annual elections, by ballot, +at which each student had a vote,—its privileges, equally accessible to +all,—its labors and duties, in which all took a share. It proposed and +debated and enacted its own laws, from time to time modifying them, but +not often nor radically. It acted independently of the professors, and +of Fellenberg himself, except that our foster-father (<i>Pflegevater</i>, as +we used to call him) retained a veto, which, however, like Queen +Victoria, he never exercised. Never, I think, were laws framed with a +more single eye to the public good, or more strictly obeyed by those who +framed them.</p> + +<p>Nor was this an unwilling obedience, an eye-service constrained by fear +or force. It was given cheerfully, honestly. We had ourselves assisted +in framing, and given our votes in enacting, our code of laws. We felt +them to be our own, and as such it became a point of honor with us to +conform to them in spirit as in letter.</p> + +<p>I know not whether the idea of this juvenile self-regulating republic +(<i>Verein</i>, we called it) originated with Fellenberg or with some of the +students; but, whatever its origin, I believe it to have been the chief +lever that raised the moral and social character of our college to the +height it ultimately attained. It gave birth to public spirit, and to +social and civic virtues. It nurtured a conscious independence, that +submitted with pleasure to what it knew to be the will of the whole, and +felt itself bound to submit to nothing else. It created young +republicans, and awakened in them that devotion to the public welfare +and that zeal for the public good, which we seek too often, alas, in +vain, in older, but not wiser, communities.</p> + +<p>When I said that we had no rewards at Hofwyl, I ought to have admitted +that the annual election to the offices of our <i>Verein</i> acted indirectly +as a powerful stimulus to industry and good conduct. At these elections +was to be read, as on a moral thermometer, the graduated scale of public +opinion. The result of each election informed us with certainty who had +risen and who had fallen in the estimate of his fellows.</p> + +<p>For it was felt that public opinion among us, enlightened and incorrupt, +operated with strict justice. In that young commonwealth, to deserve +well of the republic was to win its confidence and obtain testimonial of +its approbation. There not one sinister motive swayed our +votes,—neither favoritism, nor envy, nor any selfish inducement. There +was not even canvassing for favorite candidates. There was quiet, +dispassionate discussion of respective merits; but the one question +which the elector asked himself or his neighbor was, "Who can fill most +efficiently such or such an office?"—the answer to that question +furnishing the motive for decision. I cannot call to mind a single +instance, during the three years I passed at Hofwyl, in which even a +suspicion of an electioneering cabal or other factious proceeding +attached to an election among us. It can scarcely be said that there +were candidates for any office. Preferment was, indeed, highly valued, +as a testimonial of public confidence; but it was not sought, directly +or indirectly, and was accepted rather as imposing duty than conferring +privilege. The Lacedemonian, who, when he lost his election as one of +the Three Hundred, went away rejoicing that there were found in Sparta +three hundred better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span> men than he, is extolled as a model, of ideal +virtue. Yet such virtue was matter of common occurrence and of little +remark at Hofwyl. There were not only one or two, but many among us, who +would have sincerely rejoiced to find others, more capable than +themselves, preferred to office in their stead.</p> + +<p>All this sounds, I dare say, Utopian and extravagant. As I write, it +seems to myself so widely at variance with a five-and-twenty years' +experience of public life, that I should scruple at this distance of +time to record it, had I not, thirty years ago, when my recollections +were fresh, noted them down minutely and conscientiously. It avails +nothing to tell me that such things cannot be,—for at Hofwyl they were. +I describe a state of society which I witnessed, of which I was myself a +part.</p> + +<p>As partial explanation, I may state, that to office, among us, was +attached no patronage and no salary.</p> + +<p>The proceeds of our public treasury, (<i>Armenkasse</i>, we called it,) to +which each contributed according to his means and inclination, went +exclusively for the relief of the poor. We had a superintendent of the +poor, and a committee whose duty it was to visit the indigent families +in our neighborhood, ascertain their wants and their character, and +afford them relief, especially in winter. This relief was given in the +form sometimes of money, sometimes of food, clothing, or furniture; to +some we furnished goats, selected when in milk from a flock we had, and +which were left with them for a longer or shorter period. Our fund was +ample, and I think judiciously dispensed.</p> + +<p>The laws and regulations of our <i>Verein</i> extended to the police and the +moral government of our little community. The students were divided into +six circles, (<i>Kreise</i>,) and for the government of each of these we +elected a guardian or councillor (<i>Kreisrath</i>). These were our most +important officers,—their province embracing the social life and moral +deportment of each member of the <i>Kreis</i>. This, one might imagine, would +degenerate into an inquisitorial or intermeddling surveillance; but in +practice it never did. Each <i>Kreis</i> was a band of friends, and its chief +was the friend most valued and esteemed among them. It had its weekly +meetings; and I remember, in all my life, no pleasanter gatherings than +these. Myself a <i>Kreisrath</i> towards the close of my student life, I bore +home with me no more valued memorial than a brief letter of farewell, +expressive of affection and gratitude, signed by each member of the +<i>Kreis</i>.</p> + +<p>Our judiciary consisted of a bench of three judges, whose sessions were +held in our principal hall with all due formality,—two sentinels, with +swords drawn, guarding the doors. The punishments within its power to +inflict were a vote of censure, fines, deprivation of the right of +suffrage, declaration of ineligibility to office, and degradation from +office. This last punishment was not inflicted on any student during my +residence at Hofwyl. Trials were very rare; and I do not remember one, +except for some venial offence. The offender usually pleaded his own +cause; but, if he preferred it, he might procure a friend to act as his +advocate.</p> + +<p>The dread of public censure, thus declared by sentence after formal +trial, was great and influential among us. Its power may be judged from +the following example.</p> + +<p>Two German princes, sons of a wealthy nobleman, the Prince of Tour and +Taxis, having been furnished by their father with a larger allowance of +pocket-money than they could legitimately spend at Hofwyl, conceived a +somewhat irregular mode of disposing of part of it. They were in the +habit of occasionally getting up late at night, after all their comrades +had retired to rest, and proceeding to the neighboring village of +Buchsee, there to spend an hour or two in a tavern, smoking and drinking +<i>lager-bier</i>.</p> + +<p>Now we had no strict college bounds, and no prohibition against entering +a tavern, though we knew that M. de Fellenberg objected to our +contracting the latter habit. Our practice on Sundays<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span> may illustrate +this. That day was strictly kept and devoted to religious exercises +until midday, when we dined. After dinner it was given up to recreation, +and our favorite Sunday recreation was, to form into parties of two or +three and sally forth, <i>Ziegenhainer</i> in hand, on excursions many miles +into the beautiful and richly cultivated rolling country that surrounded +us, usually ascending some eminence whence we could command a full view +of the magnificent Bernese Alps, their summits covered with eternal +snow. It sometimes happened that on these excursions we were overtaken +by a storm, or perhaps, having wandered farther than we intended, were +tired and hungry. In either case, we did not scruple to enter some +country tavern and procure refreshments there. But whenever we did so, +it was a custom—not a written law, but a custom sanctioned by all our +college traditions—to visit, on our return, the professor who had +charge of the domestic department of our institution,—a short, stout, +middle-aged man, the picture of good-humor, but not deficient in +decision and energy when occasion demanded,—it was our uniform custom +to call upon this gentleman, Herr Lippe, and inform him that we <i>had</i> +visited such or such a tavern, and the occasion of our doing so. A +benignant smile, and his usual "It is very well, my sons," closed such +interviews.</p> + +<p>But the use of tobacco—passing strange, that, in a German college!—was +forbidden by our rules; so also was a departure, after the usual hour of +rest, from the college buildings, except for good reason shown. Thus Max +and Fritz Taxis (so the youths were called) had become offenders, +amenable to justice.</p> + +<p>The irregularity of which they had been guilty, the only one of the kind +I recollect, became known accidentally to one of our number. There +existed among us not even the name of informer; it was considered a duty +to give notice to the proper authorities of any breach of our laws. This +was accordingly done in the present instance; and the brothers were +officially notified that on the following day their case would be +brought up, and they would be heard in their own defence. The elder of +the two, Max, held some minor office; and the sentence would probably +have been a vote of censure or a fine for both, and a forfeiture of the +office in the case of the elder brother. But this was more than they +could make up their minds to bear. Accordingly, the night previous to +their trial, they decamped secretly, hired a carriage at a neighboring +village, and, being well provided with money, returned to their parents.</p> + +<p>We afterwards ascertained that M. de Fellenberg did not send after them, +in pursuit or otherwise,—did not even write to their parents, but +suffered the fugitives to tell their own story in their own way.</p> + +<p>The result was, that in a few weeks the father came, bringing with him +the runaways, and asking, as a favor, that M. de Fellenberg would once +more make trial of them,—which he very willingly did. They were +received by us with kindness, and no allusion was ever made to the cause +of their absence. They remained several years, quiet and law-abiding +members of our <i>Verein</i>, but neither attained to any office of trust +again.</p> + +<p>Our recreations consisted of public games, athletic exercises, +gymnastics, and—what was prized above all—an annual excursion on foot, +of about six weeks' duration.</p> + +<p>One of our most favorite amusements in the way of athletic exercise was +throwing the lance (<i>Lanzenwerfen</i>.) The weapons used were stout ashen +spears, from six to seven feet long, heavily shod with iron, and +sharp-pointed; the target, a squared log of hard wood firmly set in the +ground, about six feet high,—the upper portion, or head, which it was +the chief object to hit, a separate block, attached to the trunk by +stout hinges. This exercise required great strength as well as skill. A +dozen or more engaged in it at a time, divided into two sides of +supposed equal force; and the points gained by each stroke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span> were +reckoned according to its power and accuracy,—double, if the head was +struck, and one point added whenever the spear remained fixed in the +wood without touching the ground. We attained great skill in this +exercise.</p> + +<p>We had fencing-lessons twice a week; and there were many swordsmen in +the elder classes who need not have feared any ordinary antagonist. Of +this a fencing-master from a neighboring Canton, on occasion of a visit +to our teacher, had one day tangible and somewhat mortifying proof.</p> + +<p>Much has been said, sometimes in ridicule, sometimes in condemnation, of +gymnastic exercises. We spent an hour a day, just before dinner, in the +gymnasium. And my three-years' experience induces me to regard these +exercises, judiciously conducted, not only as beneficial, but +indispensable to a complete system of education. They are to the body +what intellectual labors are to the mind. They produce a vigor, an +agility, an address, a hardihood, a presence of mind in danger, which I +have never seen attained to the same extent under any other +circumstances. They fortify the health and strengthen the nerves. Their +mental and moral influence, also, is great. My observation convinces me +that they equalize the spirits, invigorate the intellect, and calm the +temper. I am witness to the fact that no one among the Hofwyl students +was injured by them in any way, and that very many acquired a strength +and an address that astonished themselves. I myself had been in feeble +health for several years before my arrival; yet I left Hofwyl, not only +perfectly well, but athletic; and I have not had a serious illness +since. I cannot believe, that, under a well-regulated system, gymnastics +cause injury or expose to danger.</p> + +<p>Our annual excursions, which were undertaken in the charming autumn of +that bright and beautiful climate, by those among our students who, like +myself, were too far from home to return thither during the holidays, +were looked forward to, for weeks, with brilliant anticipations of +pleasure, which, strange to say, were realized. Our favorite professor, +Herr Lippe, accompanied us on these expeditions. Our number was commonly +from thirty to thirty-five.</p> + +<p>It was usually about the first of August, that, equipped in the plain +student-costume of the college, with knapsack on shoulder, and long, +iron-shod mountain-staff in hand, we went forth, an exultant party, on +"the journey," as we called it. Previously to our departure, Herr Lippe, +at a public meeting of the intended excursionists, had chalked out for +us the proposed route; and when we found, as on two occasions land to +the lakes of Northern Italy, our enthusiasm broke forth in bursts of +applause.</p> + +<p>Our usual day's journey was eighteen or twenty miles, sometimes +twenty-five or even more. We breakfasted very early, walked till about +midday, when we sought some shady nook where we could enjoy a lunch of +bread and wine, with grapes, or goat's-milk cheese, when these luxuries +could be procured. Then we despatched, in advance, some of our best +pedestrians, as commissariat of the party, to order supper preparatory +to our arrival. How joyfully we sat down to that evening meal! How we +talked over the events of the day, the magnificent scenes we had passed +through, the little adventures we had met with! The small country +taverns seldom furnished more than six or eight beds; so that more than +three fourths of our number usually slept in some barn well furnished +with hay or straw. How soundly we slept, and how merry the awaking! +There were among us, as among German students there always are, +excellent musicians, well-trained to sing their stirring national airs, +or gems from the best operas, or the like,—duets, trios, quartets. +After our frugal noonday meal in the shade, or perhaps when we had +surmounted some mountain-pass, and came suddenly, as we reached the +verge of the descent, upon some magnificent expanse of valley or +champaign<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span> scenery stretching out far beneath us, it was our habit to +call a halt for music. The fresh grass, dotted, perhaps, with Alpine +roses, furnished seats; and our vocalists drawing from their knapsacks +the slender <i>cahier</i> containing melodies expressly selected for the +occasion and arranged in parts, we had, under the most charming +circumstances, an impromptu concert. I have heard much better music +since, but never any that I enjoyed more.</p> + +<p>On one of these excursions we passed by Napoleon's wonderful road, the +Simplon, into one of the most beautiful regions of Italy. The first +night at Baveno was delicious. The soft Italian air,—the moonlight on +the placid lake, on the softly rounded olive-clad hills, on the +trellised vines, so picturesque, compared to the formal vineyards of +France,—all in such contrast to the giant mountain-peaks of granite, +snow-covered, cutting through the clouds, the vast glacier, bristling +with ice-blocks, sliding-down, an encroacher on the valley's +verdure,—in such marvellous contrast to all that region of rock and ice +and mountain-torrent and rugged path, and grand, rude, wild majesty of +aspect, it seemed like passing in a single day into another and a +gentler world.</p> + +<p>Then came the quiet excursions on the lakes,—Lugano, Maggiore, Como: +such a rest to our blistered feet! Those blisters <i>were</i> a drawback; but +what episode in human life has none? We strayed through the lime-groves +of the Isola Bella, where I exchanged the few words of Italian of which +I was master with a fair and courteous madonna who crossed our +path,—ascended, by clambering up within one of the folds of the Saint's +short mantle, the gigantic bronze statue of the holy Borromeo, sat down +inside the head, and looked out through the eyebrows on the lake under +whose waters lies buried the wide-brimmed shovel-hat which once covered +the shaven crown, but was swept off by the storm-wind one winter night.</p> + +<p>Throughout the term of these charming excursions the strictest order was +observed. And herein was evinced the power of that honorable +party-spirit prevalent among us, which imposed on every one of us a +certain charge as to the good conduct of the whole,—making each, as it +were, alive to the faults and responsible for the misconduct of our +little community. Rude noise, unseemly confusion, the least approach to +dissipation at a tavern, or any other violation of propriety on the +road, would have been considered as an insult to the college. And thus +it happened that we established throughout Switzerland a character for +decorum such as no other institution ever obtained.</p> + +<p>Nor did influences thus salutary cease with the term of our college +life. So far as I know anything of the after fortunes of my college +mates, they did honor to their alma mater,—if older and more learned +foundations will not grudge our institution that name. As a body, they +were distinguished for probity and excellent conduct; some attained +eminence. Even that Alexander of Würtemberg, whom we so lightly +esteemed, I afterwards heard spoken of as one of the most estimable +young princes of the court he graced. Seven years ago I met at Naples +(the first time since I left Hofwyl) our quondam Master of the Goats, +now an officer of the Emperor of Russia's household, and governor of one +of the Germano-Russian provinces. We embraced after the hearty German +fashion,—still addressed each other, as of old, with the familiar <i>du</i> +and <i>dich</i>,—sat down, forgetting the present, and were soon deep in +college reminiscences, none the less interesting that they were more +than thirty years old.</p> + +<p>Over these old reminiscences I find myself lingering. Yet they have +stretched already, perhaps, as far as may interest others. With me they +have left a blessing,—a belief which existing abuses cannot shake nor +worldly skepticisms destroy: an abiding faith in human virtue and in +social progress.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> There was, besides, a primary school for boys up to the age +of twelve of thirteen at Diemerswyl, some miles from Hofwyl; and there +had been originally a normal school, which, though popular among the +teachers of Switzerland, gave umbrage to the Government, and was merged +in the Vehrli institution.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Francis II., Metternich-led. His words were: "Je ne veux +pas des savants dans mes États; je veux des bons sujets."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_GRAVE_BY_THE_LAKE" id="THE_GRAVE_BY_THE_LAKE"></a>THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the Great Lake's sunny smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dimple round its hundred isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mountain's granite ledge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaves the water like a wedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ringed about with smooth, gray stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest the giant's mighty bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Close beside, in shade and gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughs and ripples Melvin stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melvin water, mountain-born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All fair flowers its banks adorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the woodland's voices meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingling with its murmurs sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over lowlands forest-grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over waters island-strown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over silver-sanded beach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaf-locked bay and misty reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melvin stream and burial-heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch and ward the mountains keep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who that Titan cromlech fills?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forest-kaiser, lord o' the hills?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knight who on the birchen tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carved his savage heraldry?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Priest o' the pine-wood temples dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prophet, sage, or wizard grim?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rugged type of primal man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grim utilitarian,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loving woods for hunt and prowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lake and hill for fish and fowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the brown bear blind and dull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the grand and beautiful:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for him the lesson drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the mountains smit with dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star-rise, moon-rise, flowers of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunset's purple bloom of day,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took his life no hue from thence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor amid such affluence?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haply unto hill and tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All too near akin was he:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto him who stands afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's marvels greatest are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the mountain purple seeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must not climb the higher peaks.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet who knows in winter tramp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the midnight of the camp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What revealings faint and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing down from moon and star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled in that human clod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought of destiny and God?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stateliest forest patriarch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grand in robes of skin and bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sepulchral mysteries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What weird funeral-rites, were his?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sharp wail, what drear lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back scared wolf and eagle sent?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, whate'er he may have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low he lies as other men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his mound the partridge drums,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the noisy blue-jay comes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rank nor name nor pomp has he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the grave's democracy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Part thy blue lips, Northern lake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moss-grown rocks, your silence break!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell the tale, thou ancient tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, too, slide-worn Ossipee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak, and tell us how and when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lived and died this king of men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wordless moans the ancient pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lake and mountain give no sign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain to trace this ring of stones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain the search of crumbling bones:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deepest of all mysteries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the saddest, silence is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nameless, noteless, clay with clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingles slowly day by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But somewhere, for good or ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dark soul is living still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Somewhere yet that atom's force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves the light-poised universe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange that on his burial-sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harebells bloom, and golden-rod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the soul's dark horoscope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds no starry sign of hope!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the Unseen with sight at odds?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's pity more than God's?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus I mused by Melvin side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the summer eventide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made the woods and inland sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mountains mystery;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the hush of earth and air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed the pause before a prayer,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prayer for him, for all who rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother Earth, upon thy breast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lapped on Christian turf, or hid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rock-cave or pyramid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All who sleep, as all who live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well may need the prayer, "Forgive!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Desert-smothered caravan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knee-deep dust that once was man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battle-trenches ghastly piled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ocean-floors with white bones tiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowded tomb and mounded sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumbly crave that prayer to God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the generations old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over whom no church-bells tolled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christless, lifting up blind eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the silence of the skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the innumerable dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is my soul disquieted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where be now these silent hosts?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the camping-ground of ghosts?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the spectral conscripts led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the white tents of the dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What strange shore or chartless sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds the awful mystery?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the warm sky stooped to make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Double sunset in the lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While above I saw with it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Range on range, the mountains lit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the calm and splendor stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an answer to my soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear'st thou, O of little faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What to thee the mountain saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is whispered by the trees?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Cast on God thy care for these;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust Him, if thy sight be dim:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubt for them is doubt of Him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Blind must be their close-shut eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where like night the sunshine lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fiery-linked the self-forged chain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Binding ever sin to pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong their prison-house of will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But without He waiteth still.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not with hatred's undertow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth the Love Eternal flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every chain that spirits wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crumbles in the breath of prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the penitent's desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opens every gate of fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Still Thy love, O Christ arisen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearns to reach these souls in prison!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all depths of sin and loss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops the plummet of Thy cross!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never yet abyss was found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deeper than that cross could sound!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Therefore well may Nature keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equal faith with all who sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set her watch of hills around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christian grave and heathen mound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to cairn and kirkyard send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summer's flowery dividend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Keep, O pleasant Melvin stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet laugh in shade and gleam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the Indian's grassy tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swing, O flowers, your bells of bloom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep below, as high above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeps the circle of God's love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ICE_AND_ESQUIMAUX" id="ICE_AND_ESQUIMAUX"></a>ICE AND ESQUIMAUX.</h2> + + +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h4>TERRA INCOGNITA.</h4> + +<p>Labrador, geologists tell us, is the oldest portion of the American +Continent. It was also, and aside from the visits of the Scandinavians, +the first to be discovered by Europeans,—the Cabots having come to land +here more than a year before Columbus found the tropic mainland on his +third voyage. And to-day it is that part of the continent which has been +least explored. No one, to my knowledge, has ever crossed it: perhaps no +one could do so. I am not aware that any European has penetrated it +deeply. Hinds pushed up some hundred and fifty miles from the Gulf +coast, and thought this feat one which deserved two octavos of +commemoration. The coast, for some four hundred miles in extent, is +visited annually by hosts of fishermen; but twenty miles from tide-water +it is as little known to them as to the Bedouins.</p> + +<p>We are now, however, able to affirm that the interior is all one immense +elevated plateau. Information which I obtained from an elderly +missionary at Hopedale, together with numerous indications that an +intelligent naturalist would know how to construe, enabled P—— to +determine this fact with confidence. It is a table-land "varying from +five to twenty-five hundred feet in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565]</a></span> height." Here not a tree grows, not +a blade of grass, only lichens and moss, What a vast and terrible waste +it must be! Where else upon the earth are all the elements of desolation +so combined? The missionary in question had penetrated to the borders of +this <i>cold</i> desert and looked out over it. "No up <i>und</i> down," he said. +"No dree. Notting grow. All level."</p> + +<p>Within some one hundred and fifty miles of the coast this terrible +table-land breaks up into wild hills, separated by valleys that plunge +down suddenly, in rocky steeps, from the heights, more gorges than +valleys. These hills are all fearfully scarred. One sees in them +abundant record of the Titanic old-time warfare between rock and ice. A +prodigious contest it was. Sometimes the top of a hill—clean, live +rock—was sliced off, as with a knife. "Like the tops of our conical +cheeses, when they came to the table," said P——</p> + +<p>The valleys are wooded with fir, spruce, larch, and, more to the south, +with birch. At a distance from the sea and in favorable situations these +trees grow to good forest size, even beyond the middle latitudes of +Labrador. In latitude 53° a resident told me that trees were found +eighteen inches in diameter. This statement was derided when I told it +on board, and the witty Judge kept the table in a roar for half an hour +with pleasantries about it. But at Hopedale, two and a half degrees +farther north, we learned that sticks of timber fifty feet in length +were often brought to the station; while one had found its way there +which was fifty-six feet long and ten inches in diameter at the smaller +end.</p> + +<p>Toward the sea these forests dwindle, till on the immediate coast they +wholly disappear. At Caribou Island, which, the reader will remember, is +<i>south</i> of the Strait of Belle Isle, I found in a ravine some sadly +stunted spruces, firs, and larches, not more than three feet +high,—melancholy, wind-draggled, frightened-looking shrubs, which had +wondrously the air of lifelong ill-usage. The tangled tops were mostly +flattened and pressed over to one side, and altogether they seemed so +piteous, that one wished to say, "Nobody shall do so to you any more, +poor things!" Excepting these, the immediate coast, for five or six +hundred miles that we skirted it, was absolutely treeless.</p> + +<p>Up in the bays, however, trees were found, and, curiously enough, they +were larger and more plentiful in high latitudes than farther south. +This puzzled me much at first. Evidently, however, it was due in part to +the nature of the rock. At Sleupe Harbor, latitude 51°, this was +granite;<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> farther on it was sienite; then the sienite showed a strong +predominance of feldspar; then it became an impure Labradorite; then +passed into gneiss; the gneiss became soft, stratified, and frequently +intersected by trap;—and with every softer quality of rock there was an +improvement in vegetation. This was particularly observable at L'Anse du +Loup, where there is a red sandstone formation extending some miles +along the sea and a mile or two inland. Here we seemed suddenly +transported to a Southern climate, so soft was the scenery, so green the +surface. The effect was enhanced by the aspect of the sandstone cliff, +which, in alternating horizontal shades of red, fronts the sea, with a +vertical height of three hundred feet for the whole extent of this +formation,—so ruddy and glowing under the sunshine, as we sailed past, +that one felt warmed by the sight, But a little farther back rose the +same old hard-hearted hills, cold, broken, and bare as ever.</p> + +<p>But the difference in soil does not wholly explain the difference in +vegetation. In the mission-garden at Caribou Island next to nothing will +grow; in the garden at Hopedale, four degrees farther north, though the +rock here is very hard, I found half an acre of potatoes in blossom, the +tops about six inches high, together with beets, carrots, cabbages, +onions, nice currant-bushes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566]</a></span> and rhubarb growing luxuriantly. These are +all started under cover, and are not set out in the garden until toward +the end of June, and a great deal of Esquimaux labor must go to their +production; yet it is doubtful whether the same pains would bring about +the same result at the Caribou station.</p> + +<p>It is the sea that dooms Labrador, and the relation of the coast to this +does much to determine its fertility, or rather its barrenness. Half way +across the ocean, in latitude 54°, Captain Linklater found the +temperature of the water 54°, Fahrenheit; near the Labrador coast, in +the same latitude, the temperature was but 34°, two degrees only above +the freezing point! It is in facts like this that one gets a key to the +climate not only of Labrador, but of Eastern North America. Out of the +eternal ice of the North the current presses down along the coast, +chilling land and air wherever it touches. Where the coast retreats +somewhat, and is well barricaded with islands, the rigor of the climate +is mitigated; where it lies fully exposed to the Arctic current, even +though much farther south, the life is utterly chilled out of it. Now +Hopedale lies behind a rampart of islands twenty miles deep; while the +portion of the Arctic current which splits off at the head of +Newfoundland, and pushes down through the strait, presses close past +Caribou Island. This explains the sterility of the latter.</p> + +<p>The Arctic current varies much in different years, not only in the +amount of ice it brings, but also in its direction. Unexpected effects +depend upon this variation. It will be remembered that in 1863 several +ships were wrecked on Cape Race, owing to some "unaccountable" +disturbance of the currents. The Gulf Stream, it was found at length, +ran thirty miles farther north than usual. <i>Was</i> this unaccountable? +When Captain Handy, our whaling Mentor, was penetrating Hudson's Strait +in June, 1863, he found vast headlands of floe ice resting against the +land, and pushing far out to sea.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bailey," said he to his mate, "there will be many wrecks on Cape +Race this year."</p> + +<p>The prediction was fulfilled. Do you see why it should be?</p> + +<p>The floe ice rose ten feet above the water; it therefore extended near +one hundred feet beneath. At this depth it acted upon the current +precisely as if it were land, pushing the former far to the east. The +current, therefore, did not meet and repel the Gulf Stream at the usual +point; and the latter was thus at liberty to press on beyond its custom +to the north. Captain Handy not only saw the facts before him, but +reasoned upon them. Even when these immense bodies of ice do not rest +upon the land, they produce the same effect. At the depth of a hundred +feet they go below the current into the still water or counter current +beneath, and thus still resist the surface flow.</p> + +<p>The coast of Labrador has no fellow for sternness and abruptness on the +earth. Huge headlands, stubborn cliffs, precipitous hills rise suddenly +from the sea, bold, harsh, immitigable, yet softened by their aspect of +gray endurance. Hacked and scored, tossed, fissured, and torn, +weather-beaten and bleached, their bluntness becomes grave, their +hardness pathetic. About their caverned bases the billow thunders in +perpetual assault, proclaiming the purpose of the sea to reclaim what it +has lost. Above, the frost inserts its potent lever, and flings down +from time to time some bellowing fragment to its ally below. The shores, +as if to escape from this warfare, hurry down, and plunge to quiet +depths of ocean, where the surge never heaves, nor frost, even by the +deep ploughshare of its icebergs, can reach. It is, indeed, a terrible +coast, and remains to represent that period in Nature when her powers +were all Titanic, untamed,—playing their wild game, with hills for +toss-coppers and seas for soap-bubbles, or warring with the elements +themselves for weapons.</p> + +<p>The harbors are very deep. In some twenty that we visited there was but +a single exception. In fact, it is commonly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567]</a></span> only in little coves boxed +up by high walls of rock, where one side threatens the ship's bowsprit +and the other her stern, that an ordinary cable will reach bottom. You +anchor in a granite tub, where one hardly dares lean over the rail for +fear of bumping his head against the cliffs, and see half your chain +spin out before ground is touched. Jack sometimes wonders, as the cable +continues to rush through the hawse-hole, whether he has not dropped +anchor into a hole through the earth, and speculates upon the +probability of fishing up a South-Sea island when he shall again heave +at the windlass.</p> + +<p>A Labrador summer has commonly a brief season during which the heat +seems to Englishmen "intense," and even to an American noticeable. +Captain French, the old pilot, told me that he had been at Indian Harbor +(far to the north) when for three weeks an awning over the deck was +absolutely necessary, and when a fish left in the sun an hour would be +spoiled. Last summer, however, was the coldest and rainiest known for +many years. Once the thermometer rose to 73°, Fahrenheit, once again to +70°, but five days in six it did not at nine in the morning vary more +than two or three degrees from 42°, and half the time the mercury would +be found precisely at this mark. The lowest temperature observed was +34°. This was on the 28th and 29th of July, when we had a furious +snow-storm, which lasted twenty-four hours, with twelve hours of wild +rain, sleet, and hail interposed. In consequence of this rain and of the +constant melting, there remained on the steep hillsides only three +inches' depth of snow when the storm ceased, though in the hollows it +was found a foot deep. In the deeper ravines the snow of winter lasts +through the year, and was found by us in the middle of August.</p> + +<p>We were, however, treated to a few days which left no room for a wish: +for the best day of a Labrador summer is the best day of all summers +whatsoever. Herodotus says that Ionia was allowed to possess the finest +climate of all the world; and in Smyrna I believed him, for there were +May days when each breath seemed worth one's being born to enjoy. But +all days yield to those of Labrador when the better genius of its +climate prevails. Then one feels the serenity of power, then all his +blood is exalted and pure, and the globules sail through his veins like +rich argosies before trade-winds. Then an irritable haste and a weak +lassitude are alike impossible; one's nerves are made of a metal finer +than steel, and he becomes truly a lord in Nature.</p> + +<p>It was on such a day that we ran some fifty miles through a passage, +resembling a river, between islands and the main. The wind blew warm and +vigorous from the land,—sometimes, when it came to us without passing +over considerable spaces of water, seeming positively hot, as if it came +from an oven; yet in such an atmosphere one felt that he could live +forever, either in an oven or in the case of an iceberg, and wish only +to live there forever! A great fleet of schooners was pushing swiftly +along this passage, on its way to fishing-grounds in the North; and as +we flew past one and another, while the astonished crews gathered at the +side to stare at our speed, our schooner seemed the very genius of +Victory, and our wishes to be supreme powers. I have never elsewhere +experienced so <i>cool</i> and perfect an exhilaration,—physical +exhilaration, that is.</p> + +<p>In the early afternoon a dense haze filled the sky. The sun, seen +through this, became a globe of glowing ruby, and its glade on the sea +looked as if the water had been strown, almost enough to conceal it, +with a crystalline ruby dust, or with fine mineral <i>spiculæ</i> of +vermilion bordering upon crimson. The peculiarity of this ruddy dust was +that it seemed to possess <i>body</i>, and, while it glowed, did not in the +smallest degree dazzle,—as if the brilliancy of each ruby particle came +from the heart of it rather than from the surface. The effect was in +truth indescribable, and I try to suggest it with more sense of +helplessness than I have felt hitherto in preparing these papers. It was +beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568]</a></span> <i>beyond</i> expression,—any expression, at least, which is at +my command.</p> + +<p>Such a spectacle, I suppose, one might chance to see anywhere, though +the chance certainly never occurred to me before. It could scarcely have +escaped me through want of attention, for I could well believe myself a +child of the sun, so deep an appeal to my feeling is made by effects of +light and color: light before all.</p> + +<p>But the atmosphere of Labrador has its own secret of beauty, and charms +the eye with aspects which one may be pardoned for believing +incomparable in their way. The blue of distant hills and mountains, when +observed in clear sunshine, is subtile and luminous to a degree that +surpasses admiration. I have seen the Camden Heights across the waters +of Penobscot Bay when their blue was equally profound; for these hills, +beheld over twenty miles or more of sea, do a wonderful thing in the way +of color, lifting themselves up there through all the long summer days, +a very marvel of solemn and glorious beauty. The Ægean Sea has a charm +of atmosphere which is wanting to Penobscot Bay, but the hue of its +heights cannot compare with that of the Camden Hills. Those of Labrador, +however, maintain their supremacy above even these,—above all. They +look like frozen sky. Or one might fancy that a vast heart or core of +amethyst was deeply overlaid with colorless crystal, and shone through +with a softened, lucent ray. Such transparency, such <i>intense</i> delicacy, +such refinement of hue! Sometimes, too, there is seen in the deep +hollows, between the lofty billows of blue, a purple that were fit to +clothe the royalty of immortal kings, while the blue itself is flecked +as it were with a spray of white light, which one might guess to be a +precipitate of sunshine.</p> + +<p>This was wonderful; but more wonderful and most wonderful was to come. +It was given me once and once again to look on a vision, an enchantment, +a miracle of all but impossible beauty, incredible until seen, and even +when seen scarcely to be credited, save by an act of faith. We had +sailed up a deep bay, and cast anchor in a fine large harbor of the +exactest horseshoe shape. It was bordered immediately by a gentle ridge +some three hundred feet high, which was densely wooded with spruce, fir, +and larch. Beyond this ridge, to the west, rose mountainous hills, while +to the south, where was the head of the harbor, it was overlooked +immediately by a broad, noble mountain. It had been one of those +white-skied days, when the heavens are covered by a uniform filmy +fleece, and the light comes as if it had been filtered through milk. But +just before sunset this fleece was rent, and a river of sunshine +streamed across the ridge at the head of the harbor, leaving the +mountain beyond, and the harbor itself, with its wooded sides, still in +shadow. And where that shine fell, the foliage changed from green to a +glowing, luminous red-brown, expressed with astonishing force,—not a +trace, not a hint of green remaining! Beyond it, the mountain preserved +its whited gray; nearer, on either side, the woods stood out in clear +green; and separated from these by the sharpest line, rose this ridge of +enchanted forest. You will incline to think that one might have seen +through this illusion by trying hard enough. But never were the colors +in a paint-pot more definite and determined.</p> + +<p>This was but the beginning. I had turned away, and was debating with +myself whether some such color, seen on the Scotch and English hills, +had not given the hint for those uniform browns which Turner in his +youth copied from his earlier masters. When I looked back, the sunshine +had flooded the mountain, and was bathing it all in the purest rose-red. +Bathing it? No, the mountain was solidly converted, transformed to that +hue! The power, the simplicity, the translucent, shining depth of the +color were all that you can imagine, if you make no abatements, and task +your imagination to the utmost. This roseate hue no rose in the garden +of Orient or Occident ever surpassed. Small spaces were seen where the +color became<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569]</a></span> a pure ruby, which could not have been more lustrous and +intense, had it proceeded from a polished ruby gem ten rods in +dimension. Color could go no farther. Yet if the eye lost these for a +moment, it was compelled somewhat to search for them,—so powerful, so +brilliant was the rose setting in which they were embosomed.</p> + +<p>One must remember how near at hand all this was,—not more than a mile +or two away. Rock, cavern, cliff, all the details of rounded swell, +rising peak, and long descending slope, could be seen with entire +distinctness. The mountain rose close upon us, broad, massive, +real,—but all in this glorious, this truly ineffable transformation. It +was not distance that lent enchantment here. It was not <i>lent</i>; it was +real as rock, as Nature; it confronted, outfaced, overwhelmed you; for, +enchantment so immediate and on such a scale of grandeur and +gorgeousness,—who could stand up before it?</p> + +<p>In sailing out of the bay, next day, we saw this and the neighbor +mountain under noon sunshine. (Lat. 55° 20'.) They were the handsomest +we saw, apparently composed in part of some fine mineral, perhaps pure +Labradorite. In the full light of day these spaces shone like polished +silver. My first impression was that they must be patches of snow, but a +glance at real spots of snow corrected me. These last, though more +distinctly white, had not the high, soft, silver shine of the mineral. +Doubtless it was these mountain-gems which, under the magic touch of +sunset light, had the evening before appeared like vast rubies, blazing +amidst the rose which surrounded them.</p> + +<p>And this evening the spectacle of the preceding one was repeated, though +more distantly and on a larger scale. Ph—— thought it the finer of the +two. Far away the mountain height towered, a marvel of aërial blue, +while broad spurs reaching out on either side were clothed, the one in +shiny rose-red, the other in ethereal roseate tints super-imposed upon +azure; and farther away, to the southeast, a mountain range lay all in +solid carmine along the horizon, as if the earth blushed at the touch of +heaven.</p> + +<p>"I invite and announce the mountains which possess pure brightness, +which have much brightness, created by Mazda, pure, lords of purity." So +sang the Zarathustrian priest, chanting the Vispereds of the +Avesta,—deep-hearted child of the world, himself now shining on the +far-away horizon of human history.</p> + +<p>All the wildness and waste, all the sternest desolations of the whole +earth, brought together to wed and enhance each other, and then relieved +by splendor without equal, perhaps, in the world,—that is Labrador.</p> + +<p>I have dreamed that it was created on this wise. Ahriman, having long +been defeated in his evil purposes by Ormuzd, fled away secretly to a +distant part of the world, and there in silence made a land which should +be utterly his own. He brought together every element of dread and +terror,—barrenness, brokenness, dreariness, fearful cold, blinding fog, +crushing ice, sudden savage change. And when it was completed, he +rejoiced in his heart and said, "This is perfect in badness, it cannot +be redeemed, it is wholly and forever mine, it is mine!" Then Ormuzd, +lord of light, heard the voice of that accursed joy, and, looking, +beheld the evil work. And he saw that it could not be redeemed, that it +was fixed forever in its evil state. Then he came to it, and, seeking to +change nothing, uplifted over it a token of immortal, unutterable +beauty, that even this land might bear witness to his celestial +sovereignty.</p> + +<p>But these waste lands have use as well as beauty. At Sleupe Harbor dwelt +one Michael Cantè, the patriarch of the neighborhood, if neighborhood it +were to be called, where were only three houses within a space of as +many miles. His years were now threescore and ten, but he was hale as a +pine forest and sweet as maple sap. A French Canadian, he spoke English, +not only like a native, but like a well-bred native,—was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570]</a></span> not ignorant +of thoughts and books,—and altogether seemed a man superior to most in +nature, intelligence, and manners. His birthplace was Quebec, and he had +formerly possessed a very considerable fortune; but losing this through +fraud, and finding himself deserted by "summer friends," he had +conceived a disgust at polite society, and escaped to these solitudes. +Here his wounds had healed, and his nature recovered its tone. His +labors prospered; a healthy and handsome family grew up to enrich his +household; and no regrets drew him back to the big world he had left +behind. Nature preserves to herself the right of asylum, no matter how +the Louis Napoleon of civilization may demand its surrender,—preserves +a place of rest and refuge for the weary hearts which are self-sent into +spiritual exile.</p> + +<p>It is also to be considered whether this terrible region does not play a +most serviceable part in the physical geography of the continent. I have +not science enough to speak here with entire confidence; and yet I am +rationally convinced. Without the ice-fields in the North, and the +frigid current which these send down to meet the tepid waters of the +Gulf Stream, would not this low and level America, with its dry +atmosphere, suffer fearfully for want of rain? would it not, indeed, be +one great desert? Could we dispense with the collisions and sudden +interchanges of cold and hot currents of air which are due to these +causes? Do we not obtain thus the same effects which in South America +are produced by the snowy summits of the Andes? The cold current meets +the warm, chills its vapor, precipitates this in fruitful rain. Our +northeast winds are the chief bringers of rain. Take these away, and +what about wheat and corn? Take away Labrador and the Arctic current, +and what about northeast winds? They would still blow; would they still +force the warm air to yield its vapor for the benefit of our fields? The +extreme changeableness of our climate is, I am fully persuaded, +connected very closely and indispensably with the fertility of the +continent. Thank God, therefore, for Labrador!</p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h4>LIFE ON BOARD.</h4> + +<p>I have recounted above the manner in which the good divinity spoiled the +Labrador triumph of the malign god. To that veracious history belongs +the following <i>addendum</i>. The evil power was deeply chagrined to be so +robbed of his victory. Rubbing his brow with vexation, he chanced to +break the skin with his nails. The venom of the viper is poisonous to +its own blood; and in like manner, the malignity of the demon afflicted +his own flesh with a festering pain. The slight anguish gave him a +thought. "Ha! now I have it!" he cried; "now I will be quits with him!" +He caused, accordingly, a boggy moss to grow in the hollows of this +dreary land, and made this to generate in countless multitudes a small, +winged, venomous fiend, named <i>mosquito</i>. "Ahriman is victor, after +all!" he shouted, as the humming imps trooped forth upon the air.</p> + +<p>I think he was!</p> + +<p>Delighted with this success, the demon tried to repeat it in other +lands; but it fared with him as with every genius, good or bad, who +begins to repeat himself: the imitation was but a feeble copy of the +original. The mosquito of Labrador would spoil Eden itself. The imitated +fiend I am indifferent to, but from the original spare me!</p> + +<p>We were spared in a degree. Ormuzd turned the weapons of his enemy +against himself: rain, hail, and snow fought for us against the +mosquito; but when fair weather came, this pest came with it. It is +clear that Dante was not a man of genius! Otherwise he would have put +the mosquito (the original, of course) in his "Inferno."</p> + +<p><i>Ennui</i> is always to be suffered on a long voyage. We had it, enough of +it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[Pg 571]</a></span> and to spare, yet always broken by days of high delight.</p> + +<p>During the early part of the voyage, while we were still sailing, or +even during considerable detentions in harbor, there was, novelty and +incident enough to give the mind employment. The weather was fine; the +sun shone; we lived on deck, in company with sun, sea, sky, horizon; and +the mere relief from the narrowness of in-door life, the wide fellowship +with the elements in which we were established, sufficed of themselves +to invest our days with an unfailing charm. I was peculiarly happy, for +I love the sea. All its ordinary aspects delight me in a very deep and +heartfelt way. These were varied in the present instance with much that +to me was far from being ordinary. Ever there was some ascending shore, +some towering island or prodigious cliff, some enticing bird, some +magnificence of morning or evening; and besides all these and a hundred +attractions more, there were the beauty and terror of berg and +floe-field, the marvel of the ice. For a time, therefore, all was +enchantment. If we made a harbor, if we left one, expectation sailed +with us; we fancied new scenes, new adventures,—the delight of +exploration yet fierce in our souls.</p> + +<p>But now comes a change. The novelty wears away; we get in some degree +the gauge of the scenery and the variety of circumstance; the dawdling, +snail-foot, insufferable creep of the ship from one fisherman's +dog's-hole to another becomes inexcusable; the weather conspires against +us; the sportsman wonders why he had brought gun and fishing-rod; even +Science grows weary at times in its limited and hampered inspection. For +more than five weeks our average progress along the coast was eight +miles a day! The ice and the weather were partly responsible for this +lagging; but there were other causes, at which I forbear to hint more +definitely. Suffice it to say that they were of a kind that one finds it +hard to be charmed with; and the Elder will here confide to the reader +that he was in the end a much vexed individual.</p> + +<p><i>Ennui</i> overtook us first in Square Island Harbor. During our long +duress there, outward objects of interest began to fail, and each man +was thrown back in some degree upon his own resources.</p> + +<p>Now follows a special development of idiosyncrasy, and with it of +friction. Kept below much of the time by inclement weather, we are +crowded and jumbled incessantly together; you jostle against the +shoulders of one, you rub elbows with another, you clamber over the +knees of a third; the members of the company are thrust together more +closely than husband and wife in the narrowest household, and there is +no exhaustless spousal love, no nameless mutual charm of man and woman, +to relieve the sharpness of contact. Every man's peculiarities come out; +and as there is no space between one and another, every man's +peculiarities jar upon those of his neighbor. One is rampant just when +another is moodily silent; one wishes to sleep when another must shout +or split.</p> + +<p>For a while, however, these idiosyncrasies amuse. We are rather pleased +with them as a resource than vexed by them as an annoyance. We are as +yet full of the sense of power; we are equal to occasion, and like to +feel our independence of outward support. So our young people run out +into all sorts of riotous fun, and, sooth to say, the older do not +always refuse a helping hand. The "Nightingale Club" becomes a +"Night-Owl Club"; there are whistling choruses, laughing choruses, +weeping, howling, stamping choruses, choruses of huzzas, of +mock-complaint; there are burglaries, spectres, lampoons, and what not? +At last these follies became tiresome, and every man was brought to the +marrow-bones of his endurance.</p> + +<p>Now, then, impatience, impatience! The abominable cooking, the dawdling +progress,—how was one to endure them? Especially when we had turned +homeward, and were sluggishly repeating the ground already traversed, +did the delay become almost insupportable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[Pg 572]</a></span> At length, on the 24th of +August, we fairly said good-bye to Labrador, and came sweeping southward +with the matchless speed of which our schooner was capable when she got +a chance. It wellnigh tore Bradford's heart-strings to leave his +icebergs once and for all behind; for a more fascinated human being I +believe there never was than this true enthusiast while on that coast. +He <i>must</i> paint the bergs with rare power, must get the very spirit and +suggestion of them on canvas, or his soul will quit him, and make off +north!</p> + +<p>P——, the indefatigable, would also have gladly stayed longer, I +believe. Our voyage had not extended so far as he desired to go, but had +been fruitful of results, nevertheless. Besides making important +observations upon the action of glacial and coast ice, counting upwards +of seventy-five raised beaches, obtaining convincing indications of a +great central table-land, and establishing by abundant detail a +resemblance amounting almost to identity between the insect Fauna of +Labrador and that of the summit of Mount Washington, he had been able to +collect indubitable evidence that there exists a sub-Arctic group of +marine animals inhabiting the shores of Labrador and Newfoundland. This +last is a result of especial importance, as this group, owing to the +want of material, had been overlooked by preceding naturalists. This +gentleman, whose industry and zeal in scientific research are literally +boundless, and are matched with much penetration, designs visiting the +North of Europe to make comparisons between the land of the Lapps and +Finns and the sub-Arctic regions of America; and I make no doubt that +American science will obtain honor in his person.</p> + +<p>The rest of us, however, breathed freer now that we were</p> + + +<h4>HOMEWARD BOUND.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wide swells aloft the snowy sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New life comes flowing on the gale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy! joy! our exile all is past!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're homeward bound, homeward at last!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill fates are strong, but God is stronger;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loved that wait shall wait no longer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our wake is white with happy foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blithe the skies to fan us home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O bliss of friendship, bliss of heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O heart of love, earth's angel leaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The speed of winds is in your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon hands will join and lips will meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now through our land roll far and wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War's lurid flame and crimson tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glory blushes through her woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And both to share with joy we go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, grim North! Possess thy throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reign amid thy bergs alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now turn our hearts to truer poles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To native shores and kindred souls.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill fates are strong, but God is stronger;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loved that wait shall wait no longer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our wake is white with happy foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blithe the skies to fan us home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>September 1.</i>—The Gulf had waylaid us, with a fierce storm in +readiness. Our reckoning was wrong; we just escaped going ashore in the +pitchy darkness; and, to mend all, the ship took fire! The flames were +soon quenched, but St. Lawrence Neptune kept trying to put them out for +twelve hours afterward; and such a drenching! But here we are between +the shores of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Isle. Fort Mulgrave, two miles +away over the calm water and beneath the floods of sunshine, looks like +a little paradise, (painted white,) after all my reviling it. And +fields, too!—green fields and forests! Could one ever again wish more +pleasure than to look on swarded fields and wooded hills? Yes,—besides +this, the pleasure of <i>remembering</i> Labrador!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Possibly sienite. I omitted to make a note, and speak from +recollection. If sienite, very hard, the quartz element predominating, +as the feldspar does farther north.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[Pg 573]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NOTES_OF_A_PIANIST" id="NOTES_OF_A_PIANIST"></a>NOTES OF A PIANIST.</h2> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>New York, <i>February, 1862.</i>—One thing surprises me. It is to find New +York, to say the least of it, as brilliant as when I took my departure +for the Antilles in 1857. In general, the press abroad relates the +events of our war with such a predetermined pessimist spirit, that at a +distance it is impossible to form a correct estimate of the state of the +country. For the last year I have read in the papers statements to this +effect:—"The theatres are closed; the terrorism of Robespierre sinks +into insignificance, compared to the excesses of the Americans; the +streets of New York are deluged with blood" (I very nearly had a duel in +Puerto Rico for venturing to question the authenticity of this last +assertion, propounded by a Spanish officer); "in short, the North is in +a starving condition."</p> + +<p>"How can you think of giving concerts to people who are in want of +bread?" was the remark of my friends, on being apprised of my resolution +to return to the United States; and, in all humility, I must acknowledge +that the same question suggested itself not unfrequently to my mind, +when I discussed within me the expediency of my voyage. I have still in +my possession a newspaper in which a correspondent states the +depreciation of our currency to be such that he actually saw a baker +refuse to take a dollar from a famished laborer in exchange for a loaf +of bread.</p> + +<p>The number of these trustworhy correspondents has increased in the +direct ratio of our prosperity, the development of our resources, and +the umbrage these blessings give to the enemies of democratic +principles. There are very few governments that would not deem it a +matter of duty to exult over the ruin of our republican edifice. Fear +actuates the less enlightened; jealousy is the motive of the more +liberal. A celebrated statesman once said to me, "A republic is +theoretically a very fine thing, but it is a Utopia." Like the man in +antiquity, who, on hearing motion denied, refuted the assertion simply +by rising and walking, we had hitherto put the "Utopia" into practice; +and the <i>thing did</i> march on, and proved a reality. The argument was +peremptory. A principle can be discussed; a fact is undeniable. Although +refracted by the organs of the foreign press, the light of truth still +flashed at times upon the people in Europe, and taught it to reflect. +When our troubles broke out, I was in Martinique. In all the +Antilles,—Spanish, French, Danish, English, Swedish, Dutch,—it was but +one unanimous cry, "Did not we say so?" and the truthful and independent +correspondents immediately embraced this opportunity to redouble their +zeal, and forthwith began to multiply like mosquitoes in a tropical +swamp after a summer shower.</p> + +<p>But it is not my province to pronounce upon lofty political and moral +questions. I would merely say that New York, for a deserted city, is +singularly animated; that Broadway yesterday was thronged with pretty +women, who, famished as they are, present, nevertheless, the delusive +appearance of health, and brave with heroic indifference the bloody +tumults of which our streets are daily the theatre; that Art is not so +utterly dead among us but that Maretzek gives "Un Ballo in Maschera" to +crowded houses, and Church sees his studio filled with amateurs desirous +of admiring his magnificent and strange "Icebergs," which he has just +finished.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to account for the extreme ignorance of many foreigners +with regard to the political and intellectual standing of the United +States, when one considers the extent of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[Pg 574]</a></span> commerce, which covers the +entire world like a vast net, or when one views the incessant tide of +immigration which thins the population of Europe to our profit. A French +admiral, Viscount Duquesne, inquired of me at Havana, in 1853, if it +were possible to venture in the vicinity of St. Louis without +apprehending being massacred by the Indians. The father of a talented +French pianist who resides in this country wrote a few years since to +his son to know if the furrier business in the city of New York was +exclusively carried on by Indians. Her Imperial Highness the +Grand-Duchess of Russia, on seeing Barnum's name in an American paper, +requested me to tell her if he were not one of our prominent statesmen. +For very many individuals in Europe, the United States have remained +just what they were when Châteaubriand wrote "Les Natchez," and saw +parrots(?) on the boughs of the trees which the majestic "<i>Méchasébé</i>" +rolled down the current of its mighty waters. All this may seem +improbable, but I advance nothing that I am not fully prepared to prove. +There is, assuredly, an intelligent class of people who read and know +the truth; but, unfortunately, it is not the most numerous, nor the most +inclined to render us justice. Proudhon himself—that bold, vast mind, +ever struggling for the triumph of light and progress—regards the +pioneer of the West merely as an heroic outlaw, and the Americans in +general as half-civilized savages. From Talleyrand, who said, +"<i>L'Amérique est un pays de cochons sales et de sales cochons,</i>" down to +Zimmermann, the director of the piano-classes at the Conservatory of +Paris, who, without hearing me, gave as a reason for refusing to receive +me in 1841, that "America was a country that could produce nothing but +steam-engines," there is scarcely an eminent man abroad who has not made +a thrust at the Americans.—It may not be irrelevant to say here that +the little Louisianian who was refused as a pupil in 1841 was called +upon in 1851 to sit as a judge on the same bench with Zimmermann, at the +"<i>Concours</i>" of the Conservatory.</p> + +<p>Unquestionably there are many blanks in certain branches of our +civilization. Our appreciation of the fine arts is not always as +enlightened, as discriminating, as elevated, as it might be. We look +upon them somewhat as interlopers, parasites, occupying a place to which +they have no legitimate right. Our manners, like the machinery of our +government, are too new to be smooth and polished; they occasionally +grate. We are more prone to worship the golden calf, in bowing down +before the favorites of Fortune, than disposed to kill the fatted calf +in honor of the elect of thought and mind. Each and every one of us +thinks himself as good and better than any other man: an invaluable +creed, when it engenders self-respect; but, alas! when we put it in +practice, it is generally with a view of pulling down to our level those +whose level we could never hope to reach. Fortunately, these little +weaknesses are not national traits. They are inherent in all new +societies, and will completely disappear when we shall attain the full +development of our civilization with the maturity of age.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>My <i>impresarios</i>, Strakosch and Gran, have made the important discovery, +that my first concert in New York, on my return from Europe in 1853, +took place the 11th of February, and consequently have decided to defer +my reappearance for a few days in order that it may fall upon the 11th +of February, 1862. The public (which takes not the remotest interest in +the thing) has been duly informed of this memorable coincidence by all +the papers.</p> + +<p>Query by some of my friends: "Why do you say such and such things in the +advertisements? Why do you not eliminate such and such epithets from the +bills?"</p> + +<p>Answer: Alas! are you ignorant of the fact that the artist is a piece of +merchandise, which the <i>impresario</i> has purchased, and which he sets off +to the best advantage according to his own taste and views? You might as +well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[Pg 575]</a></span> upbraid certain pseudo-gold-mines for declaring dividends which +they will never pay, as to render the artist responsible for the puffs +of his managers. A poor old negress becomes, in the hands of the Jupiter +of the Museum, the nurse of Washington; after that, can you marvel at +the magniloquent titles coupled with my name?</p> + +<p>The artist is like the stock which is to be quoted at the board and +thrown upon the market. The <i>impresario</i> and his agents, the broker and +his clique, cry out that it is "excellent, superb, unparalleled,—the +shares are being carried off as by magic,—there remain but very few +reserved seats." (The house will perhaps be full of dead-heads, and the +broker may be meditating a timely failure.) Nevertheless, the public +rushes in, and the money follows a similar course. If the stock be +really good, the founders of the enterprise become millionnaires. If the +artist has talent, the <i>impresario</i> occasionally makes his (the +<i>impresario's</i>) fortune. In case both stock and artist prove bad, they +fall below par and vanish after having made (quite innocently) a certain +number of victims. Now, in all sincerity, of the two humbugs, do you not +prefer that of the <i>impresario</i>? At all events, it is less expensive.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I heard Brignoli yesterday evening in "Martha." The favorite tenor has +still his charming voice, and has retained, despite the progress of an +<i>embonpoint</i> that gives him some uneasiness, the aristocratic elegance +which, added to his fine hair and "beautiful throat," has made him so +successful with the fair sex. Brignoli, notwithstanding the defects his +detractors love to heap upon him, is an artist I sincerely admire. The +reverse of vocalists, who, I am sorry to say, are for the most part +vulgar ignoramuses, he is a thorough musician, and perfectly qualified +to judge a musical work. His enemies would be surprised to learn that he +knows by heart Hummel's Concerto in A minor. He learned it as a child +when he contemplated becoming a pianist, and still plays it charmingly. +Brignoli knows how to sing, and, were it not for the excessive fear that +paralyzes all his faculties before an audience, he would rank among the +best singers of the day.</p> + +<p>I met Brignoli for the first time at Paris in 1849. He was then very +young, and had just made his <i>début</i> at the Théâtre Italien, in "L' +Elisire d' Amore," under the sentimental patronage of Mme. R., wife of +the celebrated barytone. In those days Brignoli was very thin, very +awkward, and his timidity was rendered more apparent by the proximity of +his protectress. Mme. R. was an Italian of commanding stature, +impassioned and jealous. She sang badly, although possessed of a fine +voice, which she was less skilful in showing to advantage than in +displaying the luxuriant splendor of her raven hair. The public, +initiated into the secret of the green-room, used to be intensely amused +at the piteous attitudes of Nemorino Brignoli, contrasting, as they did, +with the ardent pantomime of Adina R., who looked by his side like a +wounded lioness. Poor woman! What has been your fate? The glossy tresses +of which you were so proud in your scenes of insanity, those tresses +that brought down the house when your talent might have failed to do so, +are now frosted with the snow of years. Your husband has forsaken you. +After a long career of success, he has buried his fame under the +orange-groves of the Alhambra. There he directs, according to his own +statement, (but I can scarce credit it,) the phantom of a Conservatory +for singing. I am convinced he has too much taste to break in upon the +poetical silence of the old Moorish palace with <i>portamenti</i>, trills, +and scales, and I flatter myself that the plaintive song of the +nightingales of the Generalife and the soft murmur of the Fountain of +the Lions are the only concerts that echo gives to the breeze that +gently sighs at night from the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. Alas! +poor woman, your locks are silvered, and Brignoli—has grown fat! "<i>Sic +transit gloria mundi!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[Pg 576]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DIPLOMACY_OF_THE_REVOLUTION" id="DIPLOMACY_OF_THE_REVOLUTION"></a>DIPLOMACY OF THE REVOLUTION.</h2> + + +<p>When a European speaks about the American Revolution, he speaks of it as +the work of Washington and Franklin. These two names embody for his mind +all the phases of the contest, and explain its result. The military +genius of Washington, going hand in hand with the civil genius of +Franklin, fills the foreground of his picture. He has heard of other +names, and may remember some of them; but these are the only ones which +have taken their place in his memory at the side of the great names of +European history.</p> + +<p>In part this is owing to the importance which all Europeans attach to +the French alliance as one of the chief causes of our success. For then, +as now, France held a place among the great powers of the world which +gave importance to all her movements. With direct access to two of the +principal theatres of European strife and easy access to the third, she +never raised her arm without drawing immediate attention. If less +powerful than England on the ocean, she was more powerful there than any +other nation; and even England's superiority was often, and sometimes +successfully, contested. The adoption by such a power of the cause of a +people so obscure as the people of the "Thirteen Colonies" then were +was, in the opinion of European statesmen, decisive of its success. The +fact of our actual poverty was known to all; few, if any, knew that we +possessed exhaustless sources of wealth. Our weakness was on the +surface, palpable, manifest, forcing itself upon attention; our strength +lay out of sight, in rich veins which none but eyes familiar with their +secret windings could trace. Thus the French alliance, as the European +interpreted it, was the alliance of wealth with poverty, of strength +with weakness,—a magnanimous recognition of efforts which without that +recognition would have been vain. What, then, must have been the +persuasive powers, the commanding genius, of the man who procured that +recognition!</p> + +<p>Partly, also, this opinion is owing to the personal character and +personal position of Franklin. Franklin was preëminently a wise man, +wise in the speculative science and wise in the practical art of life. +Something of the maturity of age seems to have tempered the liveliest +sallies of his youth, and much of the vivacity of youth mingles with the +sober wisdom of his age. Thoughtful and self-controlling at twenty, at +seventy his ripe experience was warmed by a genial glow. He entered upon +life with the feeling that he had a part to perform, and the conviction +that his happiness would depend upon his performing it well. What that +part was to be was his earliest study; and a social temperament, +combining with a sound judgment, quickly taught him that the happiness +of the individual is inseparably connected with the happiness of the +species. Thus life became his study as a condition of happiness; man and +Nature, as the means of obtaining it. He sought to control his passions +as he sought to control the lightning, that he might strip them of their +power to harm. Sagacious in the study of causes, he was still more +sagacious in tracing their connection with effects; and his speculations +often lose somewhat of their grandeur by the simple and unpretending +directness with which he adapts them to the common understanding and +makes them minister to the common wants of life. The ambition which +quickened his early exertions met an early reward. He was ambitious to +write well, and he became one of the best writers in our language. He +was ambitious of knowledge, and he laid it up in such stores that men +sought his conversation in order to learn from him. He was ambitious of +pecuniary independence, and he accumulated a fortune<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[Pg 577]</a></span> that made him +master of his time and actions. He was ambitious of influence, and he +obtained a rare control over the thoughts and the passions of men. He +was ambitious of fame, and he connected his name with the boldest and +grandest discovery of his age.</p> + +<p>Living thus in harmony with himself, he enjoyed the rare privilege of +living in equal harmony with the common mind and the advanced mind of +his contemporaries. He entered into every-day wants and feelings as if +he had never looked beyond them, and thus made himself the counsellor of +the people. He appreciated the higher wants and nobler aspirations of +our nature, and thus became the companion and friend of the philosopher. +His interest in the present—and it was a deep and active interest—did +not prevent him from looking forward with kindling sympathies to the +future. Like the diligent husbandman of whom Cicero tells us, he could +plant trees without expecting to see their fruit. If he detected folly +with a keen eye, he did not revile it with a bitter heart. Human +weakness, in his estimate of life, formed an inseparable part of human +nature, the extremes of virtue often becoming the starting-points of +vice,—better treated, all of them, by playful ridicule than by stern +reproof. He might never have gone with Howard in search of abuses, but +he would have drawn such pictures of those near home as would have made +some laugh and some blush and all unite heartily in doing away with +them. With nothing of the ascetic, he could impose self-denial and bear +it. Like Erasmus, he may not have aspired to become a martyr,—but in +those long voyages and journeys, which, in his infirm old age, he +undertook in his country's service, there was much of the sublimest +spirit of martyrdom. His philosophy, a philosophy of observation and +induction, had taught him caution in the formation of opinions, and +candor in his judgments. With distinct ideas upon most subjects, he was +never so wedded to his own views as to think that all who did not see +things as he did must be wilfully blind. His justly tempered faculties +lost none of their serene activity or gentle philanthropy by age. +Hamilton himself, at thirty, did not labor with more earnestness in the +formation of the Constitution than Franklin at eighty-one; and as if in +solemn record of his own interpretation of it, his last public act, with +eternity full in view, was to head a memorial to Congress for the +abolition of the slave-trade.</p> + +<p>That such a man should produce a strong impression upon the excitable +mind of France must be evident to every one who knows how excitable that +mind is. But to understand his public as well as his personal position, +not so much at the French Court as at the court of French opinion, we +must go back a dozen years and see what that opinion had been since the +Peace of 1763.</p> + +<p>The Treaty of Paris, like all treaties between equals founded upon the +temporary superiority of one over the other, had deeply wounded, not the +vanity only, but the pride of France. Humbled in the eyes of her rival, +humbled in the eyes of Europe, she was still more profoundly humbled in +her own eyes. It was a barbed and venomous arrow, haughtily left to +rankle in the wound. For highminded Frenchmen, it was henceforth the +wisdom as well as the duty of France to prepare the means and hasten the +hour of revenge. It was then that the eyes of French statesmen were +first opened to the true position of the American Colonies. It was then +that they first saw how much the prosperity of the parent state depended +upon the sure and constant flow of wealth and strength from this +exhaustless source. Then, too, they first, saw, these Colonies, in due +time, must grow into independence; and in this, independence, in this +severing of ties which they foresaw English pride would cling to long +after English avidity had stripped them of their natural strength, there +was the prospect of full and sweet revenge.</p> + +<p>Scarce a twelvemonth had passed from the signing of the Treaty of +Paris,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[Pg 578]</a></span> when the first French emissary, an officer of the French navy, +was already at his work in the Colonies. Passing to and fro, travelling +here and there, moving from place to place as any common traveller might +have done, his eyes and his ears were ever open, his note-book was ever +in his hand, and, without awakening the suspicions of England, the first +steps in a work to which the Duke of Choiseul looked forward as the +crowning glory of his administration were wisely and surely taken. They +were promptly followed up. The French Ambassador in England established +relations with Colonial agents in London which enabled him to follow the +progress of the growing discontent and anticipate the questions which +must soon be brought forward for decision. Franklin's examination before +the House of Commons became the text of an elaborate despatch, +harmonizing with the report of his secret agent, and opening a prospect +which even the weary eyes of Louis XV. could not look upon without some +return of the spirit that had won for his youth the long forfeited title +of the Well-Beloved. It was not the first time that the name of the +great philosopher had been heard in the council-chamber of Versailles. +But among the secret agents of France we now meet for the first time the +name of De Kalb, a name consecrated in American history by the life that +he laid down for us on the fatal field of Camden. Scarce a step was +taken by the English Ministry that was not instantly communicated by the +Ambassador in London to the French Minister at Versailles, with +speculations, always ingenious, often profound, upon its probable +results. Scarce a step was taken in the Colonies without attracting the +instant attention of the French agent. Never were events more closely +studied or their character better understood. When troops were sent to +Boston, the English Ministry was not without serious apprehensions of +resistance. But when the tidings of their peaceful landing came, while +the English were exulting in their success, the French Ambassador +rejoiced that the wisdom of the Colonial leaders had withheld them from +a form of opposition for which they were not yet ready. The English +Ministry was preparing to enter upon a system of coercion at the point +of the bayonet. "If the Colonists submit under the pressure," said +Choiseul, "it will only be in appearance and for a short time."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile his active brain was teeming with projects; the letters of his +agents were teeming with suggestions. Frances counsels caution, dreads +the effects of hasty measures; for the Colonists have not yet learned to +look upon France as a friend, and premature action might serve only to +bind them more firmly to England. Du Châtelet proposes that France and +Spain, sacrificing their old colonial system, should open their colonial +ports to the products of the English Colonies,—thus inflicting a fatal +blow upon England's commerce, while they supplant her in the affections +of the Colonists. A clerk in the Department of Commerce goes still +farther, advocating a full emancipation of the French Colonies, both to +throw off a useless burden and to increase the irritation of the English +Colonies by the spectacle of an independence which they were not +permitted to share.</p> + +<p>There is nothing in history more humiliating than to see on what small +hinges great events sometimes turn. Of all the disgraceful intrigues of +a palace filled with intrigues from the day of its foundation, there is +none half so disgraceful as the overthrow of the Duke of Choiseul in +1770. And yet, vile as it was both by its motive and by its agents, it +marks an important point in the progress of American independence. A bow +more, a sarcasm less, might have confirmed the power of a man whose +deep-rooted hatred of England was fast hastening to its natural +termination, an open rupture; and a premature rupture would have brought +the Colonists into the field, either as the subjects of England or as +the allies of France. To secure the dependence of the Colonies, England +would have been compelled to make large concessions; and timely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[Pg 579]</a></span> +concessions might have put off the day of separation for another +century. To secure the alliance of the Colonies, France would have been +compelled to take upon herself the burden of the war; a French general +might have led our armies; French gold might have paid our troops; we +might have been spared the sufferings of Valley Forge, the humiliation +of bankruptcy; but where would have been the wise discipline of +adversity? and if great examples be as essential to the formation of +national as of individual character, what would the name of independence +have been to us, without the example of our Washington?</p> + +<p>French diplomacy had little to do with the American events of the next +five years. England, unconscious how near she had been to a new war with +her old enemy, held blindly on in her course of irritation and +oppression; the Colonies continued to advance by sure steps from +resistance by votes and resolves to resistance by the sword. When Louis +XVI. ascended the throne in 1774, and Vergennes received the portfolio +of Foreign Affairs, domestic interests pressed too hard upon them to +allow of their resuming at once the vast plans of the fallen minister. +Unlike that Minister, Vergennes, a diplomatist by profession, preferred +watching and waiting events to hastening or anticipating hem. But to +watch and wait events like those which were then passing in the Colonies +without being drawn into the vortex was beyond the power of even his +well-trained and sagacious mind. In 1775, a French emissary was again +taking the measure of American perseverance, French ambassadors were +again bringing forward American questions as the most important +questions of their correspondence. That expression which has been put +into so many mouths as a summing up of the value of a victory was +applied in substance by Vergennes to the Battle of Bunker Hill,—"Two +more victories of this kind, and the English will have no army left in +America."</p> + +<p>And while thus tempted by this proof of American strength, his wavering +mind was irritated by the apprehension of some sudden outbreak of +English arrogance; for the Ambassador wrote that Whigs and Tories might +yet unite in a war against France in order to put an end to the troubles +in the Colonies,—and no Frenchman had forgotten that England began the +War of 1755 by an open violation of international law, by seizing three +hundred French merchant ships and casting into prison ten thousand +French sailors before the declaration of hostilities. Thus events +prepared the way for American diplomacy, and, more powerful than the +prudence of Vergennes or the pacific longings of Louis XVI., compelled +them to decide and act, when they would still gladly have discussed and +waited.</p> + +<p>And, moreover, a new element had been introduced into the councils of +statesmen,—or rather, an element hitherto circumscribed and resisted +had begun to act with irresistible force. Public opinion, speaking +through the press by eloquent pens, through coffee-houses and saloons by +eloquent voices, called loudly for action in the name of humanity and in +the still more exciting name of French honor. Little as most Frenchmen +knew about America, they knew enough about England to believe that in +her disputes with other nations she was apt to be in the wrong,—and if +with other nations, why not with her own colonies? The longing for +revenge, which ever since the Treaty of Paris filled some corner of +every French heart, grew stronger at the near approach of so abundant a +harvest; nor did it lose any of its sweetness from the reflection that +their enemy himself was doing what they never could have done alone to +prepare it for them.</p> + +<p>But humanity, too, was a powerful word. Men could not read Rousseau +without being led to think more earnestly, if not always more +profoundly, upon the laws of social organization. They could not read +Voltaire without a clearer perception of abuses and a more vigorous +contempt for the systems which had put the many into the hands of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[Pg 580]</a></span> +few to be butchered or butchers at their will. They could not read +Montesquieu without feeling that there was a future in store for them +for which the long past had been patiently laboring, and longing, as +they read, to hasten its coming. In that future, mankind were to rise +higher than they had ever risen before; rulers and ruled were to act in +fruitful harmony for their common good; the brightest virtues of Greece, +the purest virtues of Rome, were to revive in some new form of society, +not very definitely conceived by the understanding, but which floated in +magnificent visions before the glowing imagination.</p> + +<p>I hasten reluctantly over this part of my subject; for the formation of +public opinion in France and its action upon Government, even while all +the forms of an almost absolute monarchy were preserved, is an important +chapter in the history of European civilization. But hasten I must, +merely calling attention to the existence of this element, and reminding +my reader, that, chronologically, of the two parts which composed this +opinion, hatred for England had been at work ever since 1763, while +sympathy with the Colonists was rather an individual than a public +feeling till late in 1776.</p> + +<p>It was at Versailles, and not at Paris, that action began. Vergennes's +first step was to send another agent, no longer merely to observe and +report, but to ascertain, though without compromising the French +Government, how far the Americans were prepared for French intervention. +English suspicions were already awakened. Already the English Minister +had informed the French Ambassador, upon the authority of a private +letter of General Lee to General Burgoyne, that the Americans were sure +of French aid. It was not without great difficulty that the new agent, +De Bonvouloir, could find a safe conveyance. But by December he was +already in Philadelphia, and, though still pretending to be a mere +traveller, soon in full communication with the Committee of Secret +Correspondence.</p> + +<p>The appointment of this committee, on the 29th of November, 1775, is the +beginning of the history of our foreign relations. Then began our +attempts to gain admission into the great family of nations as an +independent power,—attempts not always judiciously directed, attended +in some instances with disappointment and mortification, but crowned at +last with as full a measure of success as those who understood monarchy +and Europe could have anticipated. Two of its members, Franklin and +Dickinson, were already known abroad, where, at a later day, Jay also +was to make himself an enduring name. The other two, Johnson and +Harrison, enjoyed and merited a high Colonial reputation.</p> + +<p>There can be but little doubt that Franklin's keen eye quickly +penetrated the veil under which De Bonvouloir attempted to conceal his +real character. It was not the first time that he had been brought into +contact with French diplomacy, nor the first proof he had seen that +France was watching the contest in the hope of abasing the power of her +rival. While agent in London for four Colonies,—a true ambassador, if +to watch events, study character, give timely warning and wise counsel +be the office of an ambassador,—he had lived on a friendly footing with +the French legation, and profited by it to give them correct views of +the character and feelings of the Colonies. And now, reducing the +question to these simple heads, he asked,—</p> + +<p>"How is France disposed towards us? If favorably, what assurance will +she give us of it?</p> + +<p>"Can we have from France two good engineers, and how shall we apply for +them?</p> + +<p>"Can we have, by direct communication, arms and munitions of war, and +free entrance and exit for our vessels in French ports?"</p> + +<p>But whatever reliance they may have placed on the French emissary, the +Committee were unwilling to confine themselves to this as the only means +of opening communication with European powers. During a visit to +Holland,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[Pg 581]</a></span> Franklin had formed the acquaintance of a Swiss gentleman of +the name of Dumas,—a man of great learning and liberal sentiments, and +whose social position gave him access to sure sources of information. To +him he now addressed himself with the great question of the moment:—"If +we throw off our dependence upon Great Britain, will any court enter +into alliance with us and aid us for the sake of our commerce?"</p> + +<p>Such, then, was the starting-point of our diplomatic history, the end +and aim of all our negotiations: alliance and aid for the sake of our +commerce.</p> + +<p>But we should greatly mistake the character of the times, if we supposed +that this point was reached without many and warm debates. When the +question was first started in Congress, that body was found to be as +much divided upon this as upon any of the other subjects which it was +called upon to discuss. With Franklin, one party held, that, instead of +asking for treaties with European powers, we should first conquer our +independence, when those powers, allured by our commerce, would come and +ask us; the other, with John Adams, that, as our true policy and a mark +of respect from a new nation to old ones, we ought to send ministers to +all the great courts of Europe, in order to obtain the recognition of +our independence and form treaties of amity and commerce. Franklin, who +had already outlived six treaties of "firm and lasting peace," and now +saw the seventh swiftly approaching its end, might well doubt the +efficacy of those acts to which his young and impetuous colleague +attached so much importance. But in Congress the majority was with +Adams, and for a while there was what Gouverneur Morris called a rage +for treaties.</p> + +<p>The Committee of Secret Correspondence, as I have already said, was +formed in November, 1775. One of its first measures was to appoint +agents,—Arthur Lee for London, Dumas for the Hague, and, early in the +following year, Silas Deane for France. Lee immediately opened relations +with the French Court by means of the French Ambassador in London; and +Deane, on his arrival in France in June, followed them up with great +intelligence and zeal. A million of livres was placed by Vergennes in +the hands of Beaumarchais, who assumed the name of Hortalez & Co., and +arranged with Deane the measures for transmitting the amount to America +in the shape of arms and supplies.</p> + +<p>And now the Declaration of Independence came to add the question of +recognition to the question of aid. But recognition was a declaration of +war, and to bring the French Government to this decisive pass required +the highest diplomatic skill supported by dignity and weight of +character. The Colonies had but one man possessed of these +qualifications, and that man was Franklin.</p> + +<p>The history of diplomacy, with its long record of solemn entrances and +brilliant processions, its dazzling pictures of thrones and courts, +which make the head dizzy and the heart sick, has no scene half so grand +as the entrance of this unattended, unushered old man into France, in +December, 1776. No one knew of his coming until he stood among them; and +then, as they looked upon his serene, yet grave and thoughtful +face,—upon his gray hairs, which carried memory back to the fatal year +of Ramillies and the waning glories of the great Louis,—on the right +hand which had written words of persuasive wisdom for prince and +peasant, which had drawn the lightning from its home in the heavens, and +was now stretched forth with such an imperial grasp to strip a sceptre +they all hated of its richest jewel,—a feeling of reverential awe came +over them, and they bowed themselves before him as in the secret depths +of their hearts they had never bowed to emperor or king. "He is at +Nantes, he is on the road," was whispered from mouth to mouth in the +saloons of the capital, as his landing became known. Some asserted +confidently that he had already reached Paris, others that he might be +hourly expected. Then came the certainty: he had slept at Versailles the +night of the 21st, had come to Paris at two the next afternoon, and now +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[Pg 582]</a></span> at his lodgings in the Rue de l'Université.</p> + +<p>No one, perhaps, was more surprised than Franklin to find himself the +object of such universal attention. But no one knew better than he how +to turn it to account for the accomplishment of his purpose. In a few +days he withdrew to the quiet little village of Passy, at easy distance +both from the city and the court,—and, without endeavoring to increase +the public curiosity by an air of mystery or seclusion, kept himself +sufficiently in the background to prevent that curiosity from losing its +stimulant by too great a familiarity with its object. Where men of +science met for the discussion of a new theory or the trial of a new +experiment, he was to be seen amongst them with an unpretending air of +intelligent interest, and wise suggestions, never indiscreetly +proffered, never indiscreetly withheld. Where humane men met to discuss +some question of practical benevolence, or philosophers to debate some +principle of social organization, he was always prepared to take his +part with apt and far-reaching illustrations from the stores of his +meditation and experience. Sometimes he was to be seen in places of +amusement, and always with a genial smile, as if in his sympathy with +the enjoyment of others he had forgotten his own perplexities and cares. +In a short time he had drawn around him the best minds of the capital, +and laid his skilful hand on the public pulse with an unerring accuracy +of touch, which told him when to speak and when to be silent, when to +urge and when to leave events to their natural progress. Ever active, +ever vigilant, no opportunity was suffered to escape him, and yet no one +whose good-will it was desirable to propitiate was disgusted by +injudicious importunity. Even Vergennes, who knew that his coming was +the signal of a new favor to be asked, found in his way of asking it +such a cheerful recognition of its true character, so considerate an +exposition of the necessities which made it urgent, that he never saw +him come without pleasure. If he had been a vain man, he would have +enjoyed his position too much to make good use of it for the cause he +came to serve. If he had been a weak man, he would have fallen under the +control of the opinion which it was his office to guide. If he had not +possessed a pure and genuine sympathy with human nature, he would not +have been able, at the age of seventy, to enter into the feelings of a +people so different from those among whom he had always lived. And if he +had not been stimulated by earnest convictions, and governed by high +principles, he would not have been able to withstand the frequent and +insidious attempts that were made to shake his fortitude and undermine +his fidelity. But in him, as in Washington, there was a rare +predominance of that sound common-sense which is man's surest guide in +his relations with events, and that firm belief in the progress of +humanity which is his best reliance in his relations with men.</p> + +<p>Congress had given him two associates in his commission to +France,—Silas Deane of Connecticut, and Arthur Lee of Virginia. Deane +had been a member of Congress, was active, enterprising, and +industrious; but his judgment was not sound, his knowledge of men not +extensive, his acquaintance with great interests and his experience of +great affairs insufficient for the important position in which he was +placed. Lee had lived long in England, was an accomplished scholar, a +good writer, familiar with the character of European statesmen and the +politics of European courts,—but vain, jealous, irritable, suspicious, +ambitious of the first honors, and disposed to look upon every one who +attracted more attention than himself as his natural enemy. Deane, +deeply impressed with the importance of Franklin's social position for +the fulfilment of their common duties, although energetic and active, +cheerfully yielded the precedence to his more experienced colleague. +Lee, conscious of his own accomplishments, regarded the deference paid +to Franklin as an insult to himself, and promptly resumed in Paris the +war of petty intrigue and secret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[Pg 583]</a></span> accusation which a few years before he +had waged against him in England. In this vile course Congress soon +unwittingly gave him a worthy coadjutor, by appointing, as Commissioner +to Tuscany, Ralph Izard of South Carolina, who, without rendering a +single service, without even going near the court to which he was +accredited, continued for two years to draw his salary and abuse Dr. +Franklin.</p> + +<p>When Franklin reached Paris, he found that Deane had already made +himself a respectable position, and that, through Caron de Beaumarchais, +the brilliant author of "Figaro," the French Government had begun that +system of pecuniary aid which it continued to render through the whole +course of the war. Vergennes granted the Commissioners an early +interview, listened respectfully to their statements, asked them for a +memorial to lay before the King, assured them of the personal protection +of the French Court, promised them every commercial facility not +incompatible with treaty obligations with Great Britain, and advised +them to seek an interview with the Spanish Ambassador. The memorial was +promptly drawn up and presented. A copy of it was given to the Spanish +Ambassador to lay before the Court of Madrid. Negotiations were fairly +opened.</p> + +<p>But Franklin soon became convinced that the French Government had marked +out for itself a line of policy, from which, as it was founded upon a +just appreciation of its own interests, it would not swerve,—that it +wished the Americans success, was prepared to give them secret aid in +arms and money and by a partial opening of its ports,—but that it was +compelled by the obligations of the Family Compact to time its own +movements in a certain measure by those of Spain, and was not prepared +to involve itself in a war with England by an open acknowledgment of the +independence of the Colonies, until they had given fuller proof of the +earnestness of their intentions and of their ability to bear their part +in the contest. Nor was he long in perceiving that the French Government +was giving the Colonies money which it sorely needed for paying its own +debts and defraying its own expenses,—and thus, that, however +well-disposed it might be, there were certain limits beyond which it was +not in its power to go. It was evident, therefore, to his just and +sagacious mind, that to accept the actual policy of France as the gauge +of a more open avowal under more favorable circumstances, and to +recognize the limits which her financial embarrassments set to her +pecuniary grants, was the only course that he could pursue without +incurring the danger of defeating his own negotiations by excess of +zeal. Meanwhile there was enough to do in strengthening the ground +already gained, in counteracting the insidious efforts of English +emissaries, in correcting erroneous impressions, in awakening just +expectations, in keeping up that public interest which had so large a +part in the formation of public opinion, and in so regulating the action +of that opinion as to make it bear with a firm and consistent and not +unwelcome pressure upon the action of Government. And in doing this he +had to contend not only with the local difficulties of his position, but +with the difficulty of uncertain communications: months often +intervening between the sending of a despatch and the receiving of an +answer, and affording newsmongers abundant opportunities for idle +reports and unfounded conjectures, and enemies ample scope for malicious +falsehoods.</p> + +<p>It was a happy circumstance for the new state, that her chief +representative was a man who knew how to wait with dignity and when to +act with energy; for it was this just appreciation of circumstances that +gave him such a strong hold upon the mind of Vergennes, and imparted +such weight to all his applications for aid. No sooner had Congress +begun to receive money from Europe than it began to draw bills upon its +agents there, and often without any certainty that those agents would be +in a condition to meet them. Bills were drawn on Mr. Jay when he was +sent to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[Pg 584]</a></span> Spain, and his already difficult position made doubly difficult +and humiliating. Bills were drawn on Mr. Adams in Holland, and he was +unable to meet them. But such was the confidence of the French Court in +the representations of Dr. Franklin, that he was enabled not only to +meet all the drafts which were made upon him directly, but to relieve +his less fortunate colleagues from the embarrassments in which the +precipitation of their own Government had involved them.</p> + +<p>And thus passed the first twelve months of his residence in +France,—cloudy and anxious months, more especially during the summer of +1777, when it was known that Burgoyne was coming down by Lake Champlain, +and Howe preparing for a great expedition to the northward. Then came +the tidings that Howe had taken Philadelphia. "Say rather," said +Franklin, with that air of conviction which carries conviction with it, +"that Philadelphia has taken Howe." Men paused as they repeated his +words, and suspended their judgment; and when the news of the Battle of +Germantown and the surrender of Burgoyne followed, they felt deeper +reverence for the calm old man who had reasoned so wisely when all +others desponded. It was on the 4th of December that these welcome +tidings reached Paris; and the Commissioners lost no time in +communicating them to the Court. The second day after, the secretary of +the King's Council came to them with official congratulations. +Negotiations were resumed and carried on rapidly, nothing but a desire +to consult the Court of Madrid being allowed to retard them; and on the +6th of February, 1778, the first treaty between the United States and a +foreign power was signed with all the formalities which custom has +attached to these acts. On the 20th of March the Commissioners were +presented to the King.</p> + +<p>Nor was it mere curiosity which filled the halls of the royal palace +with an eager throng on that eventful day. These were the halls which +had witnessed the gathering of powerful men and of great men to the +footstool of the haughtiest of French kings,—which had seen a Condé and +a Turenne lay down their laurels at the royal feet, a Bossuet and a +Boileau check the flow of independent thought to bask them in the beams +of the royal smile, a Fénelon retiring with saddened brow to record for +posterity the truths which he was not permitted to utter to the royal +ear, a Racine shrinking from the cold glance of the royal eye and going +home to die of a broken heart. Here Louis had signed the decree which +sent his dragoons to force his Protestant subjects to the mass and the +confessional; here he had received with a smile of triumph the tidings +that the Pope himself had been compelled to yield to his arrogant +pretensions; and here he had listened in haughty state, when one of the +last of the glorious republics of the Middle Ages, the city of Columbus +and Andrew Doria, which had once covered the Mediterranean with her +ships, and sent forth her hardy mariners, as from a nursery of brave +men, to impart their skill and communicate their enterprising genius to +the rest of Europe, humbled herself before him through her Doge, as, +bowing his venerable head, the old man asked pardon in her name, not for +the wrongs that she had committed, but for the wrongs that she had +borne.</p> + +<p>And now, up those marble stairs, through those tapestried halls, came +three men of humble birth, two of whom had wrought for their daily bread +and eaten it in the sweat of their brows, to receive their recognition +as the representatives of a power which had taken its place among the +nations, not by virtue of the divine right of kings, but in the name of +the inalienable rights of the people. Happy would it have been for the +young King who sat in Louis's seat, if he could have understood the full +meaning of his act, and recognized at the same moment the claims of his +own people to participate in that government which derived its strength +from their labor and its security from their love!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[Pg 585]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nothing could have demonstrated more clearly the wisdom of Franklin's +confidence in the sincerity of the French Government than the generous +and liberal terms of the treaty. No present advantage was taken of the +dependent condition of their new ally; no prospective advantage was +reserved for future contingencies. Only one condition was +stipulated,—and that as much in the interest of the Colonies as of +France,—that they should never return to their allegiance. Only one +reciprocal obligation was assumed,—that neither party should make peace +with England without the knowledge and consent of the other. All the +rest was full and free reciprocation in the future, and the assurance of +efficient aid in the present; no ambiguities, no doubtful expressions, +no debatable ground for interpretation to build upon and weave the mazes +of her subtile web,—but clear, distinct, and definite, a mutual +specification of mutual duties and mutual rights. Equal could not have +treated more firmly with equal than this new power, as yet unrecognized +in the congress of nations, with the oldest monarchy of Europe.</p> + +<p>I have already alluded to the rage for treaties which prevailed for a +while in Congress. It was this that sent William and Arthur Lee upon +their bootless errands to Vienna and Berlin, Francis Dana to St. +Petersburg, John Jay to encounter embarrassment and mortification at +Madrid, and gave Ralph Izard an opportunity to draw an unearned salary, +through two successive years, from the scanty funds of the Congressional +banker at Paris.</p> + +<p>Jay's situation was peculiarly trying. He had been Chief Justice of New +York, President of Congress, had written some of the most eloquent state +papers that were issued in the name of that body whose state papers were +ranked by Chatham among the best that ever were written, and, at a +personal sacrifice, had exchanged a position of honor and dignity at +home for a doubtful position abroad. A clear-headed, industrious, +decided man, he had to contend for more than two years with the two +qualities most alien to his nature,—habitual dilatoriness and +diplomatic reticence.</p> + +<p>Spain, like France, had marked out a path for herself, and it was +impossible to move her from it. Jay obtained some money to help him pay +some of the drafts of Congress, but neither treaty nor recognition. +"They have taken four years," wrote Franklin, "to consider whether they +would treat with us. I would give them forty, and let us mind our own +business." And still viewing the question as he had viewed it in the +beginning, he wrote in his diary in May, 1782,—"It seems to me that we +have in most instances hurt our credit and importance by sending all +over Europe, begging alliances and soliciting declarations of our +independence. The nations, perhaps from thence, seemed to think that our +independence is something they have to sell, and that we do not offer +enough for it."<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p> + +<p>The most important European event in its American bearings, after the +recognition by France, was the armed neutrality of the Northern +powers,—a court intrigue in Russia, though a sober act in Spain,—and +which was followed, in December, 1780, by the addition of Holland to the +open enemies of England.</p> + +<p>Attempts had already been made to form a treaty with Holland,—first +through William Lee, with such prospect of success as to induce Congress +to send Henry Laurens to the Hague to continue the negotiations. Laurens +was captured by an English cruiser, and soon after John Adams was +directed to take his place. At Paris, Adams had failed singularly as a +negotiator,—lending a ready ear to Lee, hardly attempting to disguise +his jealousy of Franklin, and enforcing his own opinions in a manner +equally offensive to the personal feelings of the Minister and the +traditional usages of the Court. But at the Hague he found a field +better suited to his ardent temperament,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[Pg 586]</a></span> and, backed by the brilliant +success of the campaign of 1781, and the votes of the House of Commons +in favor of reconciliation, succeeded in obtaining a public recognition +in the spring of 1782, and concluding a treaty in the autumn.</p> + +<p>All these things were more or less upon the surface,—done and doing +more or less openly. But under the surface the while, and known only to +those directly concerned therein, were covert attempts on the part of +England to open communications with Franklin by means of personal +friends. There had been nothing but the recognition of our independence +that England would not have given to prevent the alliance with France; +and now there was nothing that she was not ready to do to prevent it +from accomplishing its purpose. And it adds wonderfully to our +conception of Franklin to think of him as going about with this +knowledge, in addition to the knowledge of so much else, in his +mind,—this care, in addition to so many other cares, ever weighing upon +his heart. Little did jealous, intriguing Lee know of these things; +petulant, waspish Izard still less. A mind less sagacious than +Franklin's might have grown suspicious under the influences that were +employed to awaken his distrust of Vergennes. And a character less +firmly established would have lost its hold upon Vergennes amid the +constant efforts that were made to shake his confidence in the gratitude +and good faith of America. But Franklin, who believed that timely faith +was a part of wisdom, went directly to the French Minister with the +propositions of the English emissaries, and frankly telling him all +about them, and taking counsel of him as to the manner of meeting them, +not only stripped them of their power to harm him, but converted the +very measures which his enemies had so insidiously, and, as they deemed, +so skilfully prepared for his ruin, into new sources of strength.</p> + +<p>Of the proffers of mediation in which first Spain and then Russia and +the German Emperor were to take so important a part, as they bore no +fruit, it is sufficient to observe, in passing, how little European +statesmen understood the business in which they were so ready to +intermeddle, and what a curious spectacle Catharine and Kaunitz present, +seeking to usher into the congress of kings the first true +representative of that great principle of popular sovereignty which was +to make all their thrones totter and tremble under them. It may be +added, that they furnished that self-dependence of John Adams which too +often degenerated into arrogance an occasion to manifest itself in a +nobler light; for he refused to take part in the discussions in any +other character than as the representative of an independent power.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile events were hastening the inevitable termination. In Europe, +England stood alone, without either open or secret sympathy. In June, +1779, a war with Spain had followed the French war of 1778. In July, +1780, the "armed neutrality" had defined the position of the Northern +powers adversely to her maritime pretensions. War was declared with +Holland in December of the same year. In America, the campaign of 1781 +had stripped her of her Southern conquests, and effaced the impression +of her early victories. At home her people were daily growing more and +more restless under the pressure of taxation; and even the country +gentlemen, who had stood by the Ministry so long in the hope of +transferring their own burden to the shoulders of their American +brethren, began to give evident tokens of discontent. It was clear that +England must consent to peace. And yet she still stood bravely up, +presenting a bold front to each new enemy: a grand spectacle in one +light, for there is always something grand in indomitable courage; but a +sad one in the true light, and one from which a hundred years hence the +philosophic historian will turn with a shudder, when, summing up all +these events, and asking what all this blood was shed for, he shows that +the only principle at stake on her part was that pernicious claim to +control the industry of the world, which,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[Pg 587]</a></span> had she succeeded, would have +dried up the sources of prosperity in America, as it is fast drying them +up in Ireland and in India.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p> + +<p>Nor was peace less necessary to her rival. The social revolution which +the two last reigns had rendered inevitable was moving with gigantic +strides towards its bloody consummation. The last well-founded hope of +reforms that should probe deep enough to anticipate revolution had +disappeared with Turgot. The statesmanship of Vergennes had no remedy +for social disease. It was a statesmanship of alliances and treaties and +wars, traditional and sometimes brilliant, but all on the surface, +leaving the wounded heart untouched, the sore spirit unconsoled. The +financial skill of Necker could not reach the evil. It was mere banking +skill, and nothing more,—very respectable in its time and place, +filling a few mouths more with bread, but failing to see, although told +of it long ago by one who never erred, that "man does not live by bread +alone." The finances were in hopeless disorder. The resources of the +country were almost exhausted. Public faith had been strained to the +utmost. National forbearance had been put to humiliating tests under the +last reign by the partition of Poland and the Peace of Kaïnardji; and +the sense of self-respect had not been fully restored by the American +War. And although no one yet dreamed of what seven swift years were to +bring forth, all minds were agitated by a mysterious consciousness of +the approaching tempest.</p> + +<p>In 1782 the overtures of England began to assume a more definite form. +Franklin saw that the time for decisive action was at hand, and prepared +himself for it with his wonted calm and deliberate appreciation of +circumstances. That France was sincere he could not doubt, after all the +proofs she had given of her sincerity; nor could he doubt that she would +concur heartily in preparing the way for a lasting peace. He had the +instructions of Congress to guide him in what America would claim; and +his own mind was quickly made up as to what England must yield. Four +points were indispensable: a full recognition of independence; an +immediate withdrawal of her troops; a just settlement of +boundaries,—those of Canada being confined, at least, to the limits of +the Act of 1774; and the freedom of the fisheries. Without these there +could be no treaty. But to make the work of peace sure, he suggested, as +equally useful to both parties, four other concessions, the most +important of which were the giving up of Canada, and securing equal +privileges in English and Irish ports to the ships of both nations. The +four necessary articles became the real basis of the treaty.</p> + +<p>John Adams, John Jay, and Henry Laurens were joined with him in the +commission. Jay was first on the ground, reaching Paris in June; Adams +came in October; Laurens not till November, when the preliminary +articles were ready for signature. They all accepted Franklin's four +articles as the starting-point. But, unfortunately, they did not all +share Franklin's well-founded confidence in the sincerity of the French +Government. Jay's mind was embittered by the tergiversations of Spain. +Adams had not forgotten his former disagreements with Vergennes, and +hated Franklin so bitterly that he could hardly be prevailed upon to +treat him with the civility which his age and position demanded, much +less with the consideration which the interest of his country required. +Both Jay and Adams were under the influence of that hostility to France +which prevailed as extensively in the Colonies as in the mother +country,—an hostility which neither of them was at sufficient pains to +conceal, although neither of them, perhaps, was fully conscious of it. +It was this feeling that kept them both aloof from the French Minister, +and made them so accessible to English influences. And it was a +knowledge of this feeling which three years later suggested to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[Pg 588]</a></span> George +III. that well-known insinuation about Adams's dislike to French +manners, which would have been a scathing sarcasm, if it had not been an +inexcusable impertinence.</p> + +<p>The English agents availed themselves skilfully of those +sentiments,—sowing suspicions, fostering doubts, and not shrinking, +there is strong reason to suppose, from gross exaggeration and +deliberate falsehood. The discussion of articles, like all such +discussions, was protracted by the efforts of each party to make the +best terms, and the concealing of real intentions in the hope of +extorting greater concessions. But England was really prepared to yield +all that America was really prepared to claim; France, in spite of the +suspicions of Adams and Jay, was really sincere; and on the 30th of +November, 1782, the preliminary articles were signed.</p> + +<p>Franklin's position was difficult and delicate. He knew the importance +of peace. He knew that the instructions of Congress required perfect +openness towards the French Minister. He believed that the Minister +deserved, both by his past kindness and present good intentions, to be +treated with perfect openness. But both his colleagues were against him. +What should he do? Refer the difference to Congress, and meanwhile hold +the country in painful and expensive suspense? What could he do but +submit, as he had done through life, to the circumstances which he could +not control, and give the appearance of unanimity to an act which the +good of his country required to be unanimous?</p> + +<p>He signed the preliminaries, and submitted to the reproach of personal +and public ingratitude as he had submitted to the taunts of Wedderburn. +History has justified his confidence,—the most careful research having +failed to bring to light any confirmation of the suspicions of his +colleagues. And Vergennes, though nettled for the moment, understood +Franklin's position too well to lay the act at his door as an expression +of a real opinion.</p> + +<p>Much time and long discussions were still required to convert the +preliminaries into a final treaty; for the complicated interests of +England, France, and Spain were to be taken into the account. But each +party longed for peace; each party needed it; and on the 3d of +September, 1783, another Treaty of Paris gave once more the short-lived, +though precious boon to Europe and America.</p> + +<p>During Franklin's residence at the Court of France, and mainly through +his influence, that court had advanced to Congress three millions of +livres a year as a loan, had increased it to four millions in 1781, had +the same year added six millions as a free gift to the three millions +with which she began, and become security for the regular payment of the +interest upon a loan of ten millions to be raised in Holland.<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> + +<p>Nor will it be inappropriate to add, that, before he sailed upon his +mission to France, he called in all the money he could command in specie +(between three and four thousand pounds) and put it into the public +treasury as a loan,—and that while the young men, Adams and Jay, were +provided with competent secretaries of legation, he, though bowed down +by age and disease, and with ten times their work to do, was left to his +own resources, and, but for the assistance of his grandson, would have +been compelled to do it all with his own hand.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Franklin's Works, Vol. IX. p. 284, Sparks's edition.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> I cannot deny myself the pleasure of referring in this +connection to Mr. Carey's admirable exposition of this fact in his +"Principles of Political Science."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> In all, eighteen millions as a loan, and nine millions as a +free gift.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[Pg 589]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OUR_BATTLE-LAUREATE" id="OUR_BATTLE-LAUREATE"></a>OUR BATTLE-LAUREATE.</h2> + + +<p>"How came the Muses to settle in Connecticut?" This was the question of +a writer in the "Atlantic Monthly" last February, whose history of the +"Pleiades" of that State we read with a pleasure which we doubt not was +shared by all who saw it, except perhaps a few who did not relish the +familiar way in which the feather duster was whisked about the +statuettes of the seven <i>dii minorum gentium</i> who once reigned in +Hartford and New Haven.</p> + +<p>"There still remain inventive machinists, acute money-changers, acutest +peddlers; but the seed of the Muses has run out. No more Pleiades at +Hartford."</p> + +<p>In the July number of our elder brother, the "North American," one of +the ablest of American critic's said of an author who had just published +a small volume, "In him the nation has found a new poet, vigorous, +original, and thoroughly native." "We have had no such war-poetry, nor +anything like it. His 'River-Fight' is the finest lyric of the kind +since Drayton's 'Battle of Agincourt.'"</p> + +<p>The author of this volume, which is entitled "Lyrics of a Day, or +Newspaper Poetry, by a Volunteer in the U. S. Service," and of which a +second edition has just been issued by Carleton in New York, is Mr. +<span class="smcap">Henry Howard Brownell</span> of East Hartford, taught in a school at that +place, a graduate of Trinity College, a nephew of the late Bishop +Brownell of Connecticut. The good which came out of Nazareth, as all +remember, claimed another birthplace. If the author of the "Pleiades" +asks Nathanael's question, putting Hartford for Nazareth, and we tell +him to come and see, we shall have to say that Providence was our new +poet's birthplace, and that his lineage divides itself between Rhode +Island and Massachusetts. But the good has come to us from the +Connecticut Nazareth.</p> + +<p>If Drayton had fought at Agincourt, if Campbell had held a sabre at +Hohenlinden, if Scott had been in the saddle with Marmion, if Tennyson +had charged with the Six Hundred at Balaklava, each of these poets might +possibly have pictured what he said as faithfully and as fearfully as +Mr. Brownell has painted the sea-fights in which he took part as a +combatant. But no man can tell a story at second hand with the truth of +incident which belongs to an eye-witness who was part of what he saw. As +a mere relator, therefore, of the sights and sounds of great naval +battles, Mr. Brownell has a fresh story to tell. Not only so, but these +naval battles are not like any the Old World ever saw. One or two +"Monitors" would have settled in half an hour the fight which Aeschylus +shared at Salamis. The galleys "rammed" each other at Actium; but there +was no Dahlgren or Sawyer to thunder from their decks or turrets. The +artillery roared at Trafalgar; but there were no iron-clads to tilt at +each other, meeting with a shock as of ten thousand knights in armor +moulded into one mailed Centaur and crashing against such another +monster.</p> + +<p>But, again, a man may see a fight and be able to describe it truthfully, +yet he may be unable to describe it dramatically. He must have the +impressibility of the poetical nature to take in all its scenes, and the +vocabulary of an artist to reproduce them. But, for some reason or +other, poets are not very often found under fire, unless it be that of +the critics. The temperament which makes men insensible to danger is +rarely the gift of those who are so organized as to be sensitive to the +more ethereal skyey influences. The violet end of the spectrum and the +invisible rays beyond it belong to the poet, farthest from the red, +which is the light that shines round the soldier.</p> + +<p>It happens rarely that poets put their delicate-fibred brains in the +paths of bullets, but it does happen. Körner fell with his last song on +his lips. Fitz-James<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[Pg 590]</a></span> O'Brien gave his life as well as his chants to our +cause. Mr. Brownell has weathered the great battle-storms on the same +deck with Farragut, and has told their story as nobly as his leader made +the story for him to tell. We cannot find any such descriptions as his, +if for no other reason than that already mentioned, that there have been +no such scenes to describe.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Brownell's genius is exceptional, as well as his experience. He +can compose his verses while the battle is going on around him. During +the engagement with Fort Powell, he was actually pencilling down some +portions of the "Bay Fight," when he received a polite invitation to +step down to the gun-deck and "try a shot at 'em with the Sawyer." He +took minutes of everything as it happened during the contest, so that +the simple record and the poetical delineation run into each other. We +take the liberty to quote a few words from a note he kindly sent in +answer to some queries of our own.</p> + +<p>"Some of the descriptions [in the 'Bay Fight'] might seem exaggerated, +but better authorities than I am say they are not. To be sure, blood and +powder are pretty freely mixed for the painting of it; but these were +the predominant elements of the scene,—the noise being almost +indescribable, and the ship, for all the forward half of her, being an +absolute 'slaughter-house.' Though we had only twenty-five killed and +twenty-eight wounded (some of whom afterwards died) on that day, yet +numbers were torn into fragments, (men with their muscles tense, +subjected to violent concussion, seem as <i>brittle as glass</i>,) causing +the deck and its surroundings to present a most strange spectacle."</p> + +<p>We can understand better after this the lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now, as we looked ahead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All for'ard, the long white deck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was growing a strange dull red,...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red from mainmast to bitts!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Red on bulwark and wale,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red by combing and hatch,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Red o'er netting and rail!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The two great battle-poems begin, each of them, with beautiful +descriptive lines, move on with gradually kindling fire, reach the +highest intensity of action, till the words themselves have the weight +and the rush of shot and shell, and the verses seem aflame with the +passion of the conflict,—then, as the strife calms itself after the +victory is won, the wild dithyrambic stanzas rock themselves into sweet, +even cadences. No one can fail to be struck with the freedom and +robustness of the language, the irregular strength of the rhythm, the +audacious felicities of the rhyme. There are hints which remind us of +many famous poets,—hints, not imitations. There can be no doubt that +these were either coincidences or unconscious tricks of memory. To us +they seem beauties, not defects, in poems of such originality, as in a +new musical composition a few notes in some well-remembered sequence +often seem to harmonize the crudeness of the newer strain,—as in many +flowers and fruits Nature herself repeats a streak of color or a dash of +flavor belonging to some alien growth.</p> + +<p>Thus, Drayton says,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With Spanish yew so strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arrows a cloth-yard long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That like to serpents <i>stung</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Brownell,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Trust me, our berth was hot;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ah, wickedly well they shot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How their death-bolts howled and <i>stung</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A mere coincidence, in all probability, but the word one which none but +a poet could have used. There are reminiscences of Cowper's grand and +simple lines on the "Loss of the Royal George," of Campbell's "Battle of +the Baltic," of Tennyson's "Charge of the Six Hundred," not one of which +but has a pleasing effect in the midst of such vigorous pictures as the +new poet has given us fresh from the terrible original. The most obvious +criticism is one which applies to the "River Fight," and which is +directed against what might be thought an overstraining of the singular +power in the use of words which is one of Mr. Brownell's most +remarkable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[Pg 591]</a></span> characteristics. "General Orders," not essential to the +poem, may be admired as a <i>tour de force</i>, but cannot be properly called +poetry. It is a condensed, versified edict,—true, no doubt, to the +prose original, but on the whole better printed by itself, if printed at +all, than suffered to distract the reader from the main narration by its +elaborate ingenuity.</p> + +<p>These two poems—the "River Fight" and the "Bay Fight"—are better +adapted for public reading and declamation than almost any in our +literature. They hush any circle of listeners, and many cannot hear +those exquisitely tender passages which are found toward the close of +each without yielding them the tribute of their tears. They are to all +the drawing-room battle-poems as the torn flags of our victorious +armadas to the stately ensigns that dressed their ships in the harbor.</p> + +<p>Such pictures, if they do not kill everything hung on the walls with +them, make even a brilliant canvas look comparatively lustreless. Yet +the first poem of Mr. Brownell's which ever attracted our attention, +"The Fall of Al Accoub," is of great force, and shows much of the same +red light and black shadow, much of the same Vulcanic power over words, +as with blast and forge and hammer, which startle us in the two +battle-pieces. The lines "Annus Memorabilis," dated Jan. 6th, 1861, read +like prophecy in 1865. "Wood and Coal" (November, 1863) gives a presage +of the fire which the flame of the conflict would kindle. "The Burial of +the Dane" shows the true human sympathy of the writer, in its simple, +pathetic narrative; and the story of the "Old Cove" had a wider +circulation and a heartier reception than almost any prose effort which +has been called forth by the "All we ask is to be let alone" of the arch +traitor.</p> + +<p>The "Lyrics of a Day" are too modestly named. Our literature cannot +forget the masterpieces in this little volume in a day, a year, or an +age. The War of Freedom against Slavery has created a devilish enginery +of its own: iron for wood, steam for wind and muscle, "Swamp-Angels" and +thousand-pounders in place of the armaments that gained the Battle of +the Nile and toppled over the chimneys of Copenhagen. New modes of +warfare thundered their demand for a new poet to describe them; and +Nature has answered in the voice of our Battle-Laureate, Henry Howard +Brownell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DOCTOR_JOHNS" id="DOCTOR_JOHNS"></a>DOCTOR JOHNS.</h2> + + +<h3>XVI.</h3> + +<p>Miss Eliza being fairly seated in the Doctor's study, with great +eagerness to hear what might be the subject of his communication, the +parson, with the letter in his hand, asked if she remembered an old +college friend, Maverick, who had once paid them a vacation visit at +Canterbury.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said Miss Eliza, whose memory was both keen and retentive; +"and I remember that you have said he once passed a night with you, +during the lifetime of poor Rachel, here at Ashfield. You have a letter +from him?"</p> + +<p>"I have," said the parson; "and it brings a proposal about which I wish +your opinion." And the Doctor cast his eye over the letter.</p> + +<p>"He expresses deep sympathy at my loss, and alludes very pleasantly to +the visit you speak of, all which I will not read; after this he says, +'I little thought, when bantering you in your little study upon your +family prospects, that I too was destined to become the father of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[Pg 592]</a></span> +child, within a couple of years. Yet it is even so; and the +responsibility weighs upon me greatly. I love my Adèle with my whole +heart; I am sure you cannot love your boy more, though perhaps more +wisely."</p> + +<p>"And he had never told you of his marriage?" said the spinster.</p> + +<p>"Never; it is the only line I have had from him since his visit ten +years ago."</p> + +<p>The Doctor goes on with the reading:—</p> + +<p>"It may be from a recollection of your warnings and of your distrust of +the French character, or possibly it may be from the prejudices of my +New England education, but I cannot entertain pleasantly the thought of +her growing up to womanhood under the influences which are about her +here. What those influences are you will not expect me to explain in +detail. I am sure it will be enough to win upon your sympathy to say +that they are Popish and thoroughly French. I feel a strong wish, +therefore,—much as I am attached to the dear child,—to give her the +advantages of a New England education and training. And with this wish, +my thought reverts naturally to the calm quietude of your little town +and of your household; for I cannot doubt that it is the same under the +care of your sister as in the old time."</p> + +<p>"I am glad he thinks so well of me," said Miss Eliza, but with an irony +in her tone that she was sure the good parson would never detect.</p> + +<p>The Doctor looks at her thoughtfully a moment, over the edge of the +letter,—as if he, too, had his quiet comparisons to make,—then goes on +with the letter:—</p> + +<p>"This wish may surprise you, since you remember my old battlings with +what I counted the rigors of a New England 'bringing-up'; but in this +case I should not fear them, provided I could assure myself of your +kindly supervision. For my little Adèle, besides inheriting a great flow +of spirits (from her father, you will say) and French blood, has been +used thus far to a catholic latitude of talk and manner in all about +her, which will so far counterbalance the gravities of your region as to +leave her, I think, upon a safe middle ground. At any rate, I see enough +to persuade me to choose rather the errors that may grow upon her +girlhood there than those that would grow upon it here.</p> + +<p>"Frankly, now, may I ask you to undertake, with your good sister, for a +few years, the responsibility which I have suggested?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor looked over the edge of the sheet toward Miss Eliza.</p> + +<p>"Read on, Benjamin," said she.</p> + +<p>"The matter of expenses, I am happy to say, is one which need not enter +into your consideration of the question. My business successes have been +such that any estimate which you may make of the moneys required will be +at your call at the office of our house in Newburyport.</p> + +<p>"I have the utmost faith in you, my dear Johns; and I want you to have +faith in the earnestness with which I press this proposal on your +notice. You will wonder, perhaps, how the mother of my little Adèle can +be a party to such a plan; but I may assure you, that, if your consent +be gained, it will meet with no opposition in that quarter. This fact +may possibly confirm some of your worst theories in regard to French +character; and in this letter, at least, you will not expect me to +combat them.</p> + +<p>"I have said that she has lived thus far under Popish influences; but +her religious character is of course unformed; indeed, she has as yet +developed in no <i>serious</i> direction whatever; I think you will find a +<i>tabula rasa</i> to write your tenets upon. But, if she comes to you, do +not, I beg of you, grave them too harshly; she is too bird-like to be +treated with severity; and I know that under all your gravity, my dear +Johns, there is a kindliness of heart, which, if you only allowed it +utterance, would win greatly upon this little fondling of mine. And I +think that her open, laughing face may win upon you.</p> + +<p>"Adèle has been taught English, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[Pg 593]</a></span> I have purposely held all my +prattle with her in the same tongue, and her familiarity with it is such +that you would hardly detect a French accent. I am not particularly +anxious that she should maintain her knowledge of French; still, should +a good opportunity occur, and a competent teacher be available, it might +be well for her to do so. In all such matters I should rely greatly on +your judgment.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear Johns,"—</p> + +<p>Miss Eliza interrupts by saying, "I think your friend is very familiar, +Benjamin."</p> + +<p>"Why not? why not, Eliza? We were boys together."</p> + +<p>And he continues with the letter:—</p> + +<p>"My dear Johns, I want you to consider this matter fairly; I need not +tell you that it is one that lies very near my heart. Should you +determine to accept the trust, there is a ship which will be due at this +port some four or five months from now, whose master I know well, and +with whom I should feel safe to trust my little Adèle for the voyage, +providing at the same time a female attendant upon whom I can rely, and +who will not leave the little voyager until she is fairly under your +wing. In two or three years thereafter, at most, I hope to come to +receive her from you; and then, when she shall have made a return visit +to Europe, it is quite possible that I may establish myself in my own +country again. Should you wish it, I could arrange for the attendant +remain with her; but I confess that I should prefer the contrary. I want +to separate her for the time, so far as I can, from <i>all</i> the influences +to which she has been subject here; and further than this, I have a +strong faith in that self-dependence which seems to me to grow out of +your old-fashioned New England training."</p> + +<p>"That is all," said the Doctor, quietly folding the letter. "What do you +think of the proposal, Eliza?"</p> + +<p>"I like it, Benjamin."</p> + +<p>The spinster was a woman of quick decision. Had it been proposed to +receive an ordinary pupil in the house for any pecuniary consideration, +her pride would have revolted on the instant. But here was a child of an +old friend of the Doctor, a little Christian waif, as it were, floating +toward them from that unbelieving world of France.</p> + +<p>"Surely it will be a worthy and an honorable task for Benjamin" (so +thought Miss Eliza) "to redeem this little creature from its graceless +fortune; possibly, too, the companionship may soften that wild boy, +Reuben. This French girl, Adèle, is rich, well-born; what if, from being +inmates of the same house, the two should come by-and-by to be joined by +some tenderer tie?"</p> + +<p>The possibility, even, of such a dawn of sentiment under the spinster's +watchful tutelage was a delightful subject of reflection to her. It is +remarkable how even the cunningest and the coolest of practical-minded +women delight in watching the growth of sentiment in others,—and all +the more strongly, if they can foster it by their artifices and provoke +it into demonstration.</p> + +<p>Miss Johns, too, without being imaginative, prefigured in her mind the +image of the little French stranger, with foreign air and dress, +tripping beside her up the meeting-house aisle, looking into her face +confidingly for guidance, attracting the attention of the simple +townspeople in such sort that a distinction would belong to her +<i>protégée</i> which would be pleasantly reflected upon herself. A love of +distinction was the spinster's prevailing sin,—a distinction growing +out of the working of good deeds, if it might be, but at any rate some +worthy and notable distinction. The Doctorate of her good brother, his +occasional discourses which had been subject of a public mention that +she never forgot, were objects of a more than sisterly fondness. If her +sins were ever to meet with a punishment in the flesh, they would know +no sharper one than in a humiliation of her pride.</p> + +<p>"I think," said she, "that you can hardly decline the proposal of Mr. +Maverick, Benjamin."</p> + +<p>"And you will take the home care of her?" asked the Doctor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[Pg 594]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly. She would at first, I suppose, attend school with Reuben and +the young Elderkins?"</p> + +<p>"Probably," returned the Doctor; "but the more special religious +training which I fear the poor girl needs must be given at home, Eliza."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Benjamin."</p> + +<p>It was further agreed between the two that a French attendant would make +a very undesirable addition to the household, as well as sadly +compromise their efforts to build up the little stranger in full +knowledge of the faith.</p> + +<p>The Doctor was earnest in his convictions of the duty that lay before +him, and his sister's consent to share the charge left him free to act. +He felt all the best impulses of his nature challenged by the proposal. +Here, at least, was one chance to snatch a brand from the burning,—to +lead this poor little misguided wayfarer into those paths which are +"paths of pleasantness." No image of French grace or of French modes was +prefigured to the mind of the parson; his imagination had different +range. He saw a young innocent (so far as any child in his view could be +innocent) who prattled in the terrible language of Rousseau and +Voltaire, who by the providence of God had been born in a realm where +all iniquities flourished, and to whom, by the further and richer +providence of God, a means of escape was now offered. He would no more +have thought of declining the proposed service, even though the poor +girl were dressed in homespun and clattered in sabots, than he would +have closed his ear to the cry of a drowning child.</p> + +<p>Within that very week the Doctor wrote his reply to Maverick. He assured +him that he would most gladly undertake the trust he had +proposed,—"hoping, by God's grace, to lead the little one away from the +delusions of sense and the abominations of Antichrist, to the fold of +the faithful."</p> + +<p>"I could wish," he continued, "that you had given me more definite +information in regard to the character of her early religious +instruction, and told me how far the child may still remain under the +mother's influence in this respect; for, next to special interposition +of Divine Grace, I know no influence so strong in determining religious +tendencies as the early instruction or example of a mother.</p> + +<p>"My sister has promised to give home care to the little stranger, and +will, I am sure, welcome her with zeal It will be our purpose to place +your daughter at the day-school of a worthy person, Miss Betsey Onthank, +who has had large experience, and under whose tuition my boy Reuben has +been for some time established. My sister and myself are both of opinion +that the presence of any French attendant upon the child would be +undesirable.</p> + +<p>"I hope that God may have mercy upon the French people,—and that those +who dwell temporarily among them may be watched over and be graciously +snatched from the great destruction that awaits the ungodly."</p> + + +<h3>XVII.</h3> + +<p>Meantime Reuben grew into a knowledge of all the town mischief, and into +the practice of such as came within the scope of his years. The proposed +introduction of the young stranger from abroad to the advantages of the +parsonage home did not weigh upon his thought greatly. The prospect of +such a change did not soften him, whatever might come of the event. In +his private talk with Esther, he had said, "I hope that French girl'll +be a <i>clever</i> un; if she a'n't, I'll"——and he doubled up a little +fist, and shook it, so that Esther laughed outright.</p> + +<p>Not that the boy had any cruelty in him, but he was just now learning +from his older companions of the village, who were more steeped in +iniquity, that defiant manner by which the Devil in all of us makes his +first pose preparatory to the onslaught that is to come.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Ruby, boy," said Esther, when she had recovered from her laughter, +"you wouldn't hurt the little un, would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[Pg 595]</a></span> ye? Don't ye want a little +playfellow, Ruby?"</p> + +<p>"I don't play with girls, I don't," said Reuben. "But, I say, Esther, +what'll papa do, if she dances?"</p> + +<p>"What makes the boy think she'll dance?" said Esther.</p> + +<p>"Because the Geography says the French people dance; and Phil Elderkin +showed me a picture with girls dancing under a tree, and, says he, 'That +'s the sort that's comin' to y'r house.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," said Esther, "but I guess your Aunt Eliza 'd cure +the dancin'."</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't cure me, if I wanted to," said Reuben, who thought it +needful to speak in terms of bravado about the spinster, with whom he +kept up a series of skirmishing fights from week to week. The truth is, +the keen eye of the good lady ferreted out a great many of his pet plans +of mischief, and nipped them before they had time to ripen. Over and +over, too, she warned him against the evil associates whom he would find +about the village tavern, where he strayed from time to time to be +witness to some dog-fight, or to receive a commendatory glance of +recognition from one Nat Boody, the tavern-keeper's son, who had run +away two years before and made a voyage down the river in a sloop laden +with apples and onions to "York." He was a head taller than Reuben, and +the latter admired him intensely: we never cease admiring those "a head +taller" than ourselves. Reuben absolutely pined in longing wonderment at +the way in which Nat Boody could crack a coach-whip, and with a couple +of hickory sticks could "call the roll" upon a pine table equal to a +drum-major. Wonderful were the stories this boy could tell, to special +cronies, of his adventures in the city: they beat the Geography "all +hollow." Such an air, too, as this Boody had, leaning against the +pump-handle by his father's door, and making cuts at an imaginary span +of horses!—such a pair of twilled trousers, cut like a man's!—such a +jacket, with lapels to the pockets, which he said "the sailors wore on +the sloops, and called 'em monkey-jackets"!—such a way as he had of +putting a quid in his mouth! for Nat Boody chewed. It is not strange +that Reuben, feeling a little of ugly constraint under the keen eye of +the spinster Eliza, should admire greatly the free-and-easy manner of +the tavern-boy, who had such familiarity with the world and such large +range of action. The most of us never get over a wonderment at the +composure and complacency which spring from a wide knowledge of the +world; and the man who can crack his whip well, though only at an +imaginary pair of horses, is sure to have a throng of admirers.</p> + +<p>By this politic lad, Nat Boody, the innocent Reuben was decoyed into +many a little bargain which told more for the shrewdness of the tavern +than for that of the parsonage. Thus, he bartered one day a new +pocket-knife, the gift of his Aunt Mabel of Greenwich Street, for a knit +Scotch cap, half-worn, which the tavern traveller assured him could not +be matched for any money. And the parson's boy, going back with this +trophy on his head, looking very consciously at those who give an +admiring stare, is pounced upon at the very door-step by the +indefatigable spinster.</p> + +<p>"What now, Reuben? Where in the world did you get that cap?"</p> + +<p>"Bought it,"—in a grand way.</p> + +<p>"But it's worn," says the aunt. "Ouf! whose was it?"</p> + +<p>"Bought it of Nat Boody," says Reuben; "and he says there isn't another +can be had."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" says the spinster, making a dash at the cap, which she seizes, +and, straightway rushing in-doors, souses in a kettle of boiling water.</p> + +<p>After which comes off a new skirmish, followed by the partial defeat of +Reuben, who receives such a combing down (with sundry killed and +wounded) as he remembers for a month thereafter.</p> + +<p>The truth is, that it was not altogether from admiration of the +accomplished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[Pg 596]</a></span> Nat Boody that Reuben was prone to linger about the tavern +neighborhood. The spinster had so strongly and constantly impressed it +upon him that it was a low and vulgar and wicked place, that the boy, +growing vastly inquisitive in these years, was curious to find out what +shape the wickedness took; and as he walked by, sometimes at dusk, when +thoroughly infused with the last teachings of Miss Eliza, it seemed to +him that he might possibly catch a glimpse of the hoofs of some devil +(as he had seen devils pictured in an illustrated Milton) capering about +the doorway,—and if he had seen them, truth compels us to say that he +would have felt a strong inclination to follow them up, at a safe +distance, in order to see what kind of creatures might be wearing them. +But he was far more apt to see the lounging figure of the shoemaker from +down the street, or of Mr. Postmaster Troop, coming thither to have an +evening's chat about Vice-President Calhoun, or William Wirt and the +Anti-Masons. Or possibly, it might be, he would see the light heels of +Suke Boody, the pretty daughter of the tavern-keeper, who had been +pronounced by Phil Elderkin, who knew, (being a year his senior,) the +handsomest girl in the town. This might well be; for Suke was just +turned of fifteen, with pink arms and pink cheeks and blue eyes and a +great flock of brown hair: not very startling in her beauty on ordinary +days, when she appeared in a pinned-up quilted petticoat, and her curls +in papers, sweeping the tavern-steps; but of a Saturday afternoon, in +red and white calico, with the curls all streaming,—no wonder Phil +Elderkin, who was tall of his age, thought her handsome. So it happened +that the inquisitive Reuben, not finding any cloven feet in his furtive +observations, but encountering always either the rosy Suke, or "Scamp," +(which was Nat's pet fighting-dog,) or the shoemaker, or the round-faced +Mr. Boody himself, could justify and explain his aunt's charge of the +tavern wickedness only by distributing it over them all. And when, one +Sunday, Miss Suke appeared at meeting (where she rarely went) in hat all +aflame with ribbons, Reuben, sorely puzzled at the sight, says to his +Aunt Eliza,—</p> + +<p>"Why didn't the sexton put her out?"</p> + +<p>"Put her out!" says the spinster, horrified,—"what do you mean, +Reuben?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't she wicked?" says he; "she came from the tavern, and she lives at +the tavern."</p> + +<p>"But don't you know that preaching is for the wicked, and that the good +had much better stay away than the bad?"</p> + +<p>"Had they?" said Reuben, thoughtfully, pondering if there did not lie +somewhere in this averment the basis for some new moral adjustment of +his own conduct.</p> + +<p>There are a vast many prim preachers, both male and female, in all +times, who imagine that certain styles of wickedness or vulgarity are to +be approached with propriety only across a church;—as if better +preaching did not lie, nine times out of ten, in the touch of a hand or +a whisper in the ear!</p> + +<p>Pondering, as Reuben did, upon the repeated warnings of the spinster +against any familiarity with the tavern or tavern people, he came in +time to reckon the old creaking sign-board of Mr. Boody, and the pump in +the inn-yard, as the pivotal points of all the town wickedness, just as +the meeting-house was the centre of all the town goodness; and since the +great world was very wicked, as he knew from overmuch iteration at home, +and since communication with that wicked world was kept up mostly by the +stage-coach that stopped every noon at the tavern-door, it seemed to him +that relays of wickedness must flow into the tavern and town daily upon +that old swaying stage-coach, just as relays of goodness might come to +the meeting-house on some old lumbering chaise of a neighboring parson, +who once a month, perhaps, would "exchange" with the Doctor. And it +confirmed in Reuben's mind a good deal that was taught him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[Pg 597]</a></span> about +natural depravity, when he found himself looking out with very much more +eagerness for the rumbling coach, that kept up a daily wicked activity +about the tavern, than he did for Parson Hobson, who snuffled in his +reading, and who drove an old, thin-tailed sorrel mare, with lopped ears +and lank jaws, that made passes at himself and Phil, if they teased her, +as they always did.</p> + +<p>So, too, he came to regard, in virtue of misplaced home instruction, the +monkey-jacket of Nat Boody, and his fighting-dog "Scamp," and the pink +arms and pink cheeks and brown ringlets of Suke Boody, as so many types +of human wickedness; and, by parity of reasoning, he came to look upon +the two flat curls on either temple of his Aunt Eliza, and her pragmatic +way, and upon the yellow ribbons within the scoop-hat of Almira +Tourtelot, who sang treble and never went to the tavern, as the types of +goodness. What wonder, if he swayed more and more toward the broad and +easy path that lay around the tavern-pump, ("Scamp" lying there biting +at the flies,) and toward the barroom, with its flaming pictures of some +past menagerie-show, and big tumblers with lemons atop, rather than to +the strait and narrow path in which his Aunt Eliza and Miss Almira would +guide him with sharp voices, thin faces, and decoy of dyspeptic +doughnuts?</p> + +<p>Phil and he sauntering by one day, Phil says,—</p> + +<p>"Darst you go in, Reub?"</p> + +<p>Phil was under no law of prohibition. And Reuben, glancing around the +Common, says,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>I</i>'ll go."</p> + +<p>"Then," says Phil, "we'll call for a glass of lemonade. Fellows 'most +always order somethin', when they go in."</p> + +<p>So Phil, swelling with his ten years, and tall of his age, walks to the +bar and calls for two tumblers of lemonade, which Old Boody stirs with +an appetizing rattle of the toddy-stick,—dropping, meantime, a query or +two about the Squire, and a look askance at the parson's boy, who is +trying very hard to wear an air as if <i>he</i>, too, were ten, and knew the +ropes.</p> + +<p>"It's good, a'n't it?" says Phil, putting down his money, of which he +always had a good stock.</p> + +<p>"Prime!" says Reuben, with a smack of the lips.</p> + +<p>And then Suke comes in, hunting over the room for last week's "Courant"; +and the boys, with furtive glances at those pink cheeks and brown +ringlets, go down, the steps.</p> + +<p>"A'n't she handsome?" says Phil.</p> + +<p>Reuben is on the growth. And when he eats dinner that day, with the +grave Doctor carving the rib-roast and the prim aunt ladling out the +sauces, he is elated with the vague, but not unpleasant consciousness, +that he is beginning to be familiar with the world.</p> + + +<h3>XVIII.</h3> + +<p>It was some four or five months after the despatch of the Doctor's +letter to Maverick before the reply came. His friend expressed the +utmost gratitude for the Doctor's prompt and hearty acceptance of his +proposal. With his little Adèle frolicking by him, and fastening more +tenderly upon his heart every year, he was sometimes half-disposed to +regret the scheme; but, believing it to be for her good, and confident +of the integrity of those to whom he intrusted her, he reconciled +himself to the long separation.</p> + +<p>It does not come within the limits of this simple New England narrative +to enter upon any extended review of the family relations or the life of +Maverick abroad. Whatever details may appear incidentally, as the story +progresses, the reader will please to regard as the shreds and ravelled +edges of another and distinct life, which cannot be fairly interwoven +with the homespun one of the parsonage, nor yet be wholly brushed clear +of our story.</p> + +<p>"I want," said Maverick in his letter, "that Adèle, while having a +thorough womanly education, should grow up with simple tastes. I think I +see a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[Pg 598]</a></span> little tendency In her to a good many idle coquetries of dress, +(which you will set down, I know, to her French blood,) which I trust +your good sister will see the prudence of correcting. My fortune is now +such that I may reasonably hope to put luxuries within her reach, if +they be desirable; but of this I should prefer that she remain ignorant. +I want to see established in her what you would call those moral and +religious bases of character that will sustain her under any possible +reverses or disappointments. You will smile, perhaps, at <i>my</i> talking in +this strain; but if I have been afloat in these matters, at least you +will do me the credit that may belong to hoping better things for my +little Adèle. It's not much, I know; but I do sincerely desire that she +may find some rallying-point of courage and of faith within herself +against any possible misfortune. Is it too much to hope, that, under +your guidance, and under the quiet religious atmosphere of your little +town, she may find such, and that she may possess herself of the +consolations of the faith you teach, without sacrificing altogether her +natural French vivacity?</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear Johns, I come to refer to a certain allusion in your +letter with some embarrassment. You speak of the weight of a mother's +religious influence, and ask what it may have been. Since extreme +childhood, Adèle has been almost entirely under the care of her +godmother, a quiet old lady, who, though a devotee of the Popish Church, +you must allow me to say, is a downright good Christian woman. I am +quite sure that she has not pressed upon the conscience of little Adèle +any bigotries of the Church. My wish in this matter I am confident that +she has religiously regarded, and while giving the example of her own +faith by constant and daily devotions, I think, as I said in my previous +letter, that you will find the heart of my little girl as open as the +sky. Why it is that the mother's relations with the child have been so +broken you will spare me the pain of explaining.</p> + +<p>"Would to God, I think at times, that I had married years ago one +nurtured in our old-fashioned faith of New England,—some gentle, pure, +loving soul! Shall I confess it, Johns?—the little glimpse of your lost +Rachel gave me an idea of the tenderness and depth of devotion and +charming womanliness of many of those whom I had counted stiff and +utterly repulsive, which I never had before.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my friend, for an allusion which may provoke your grief, and +which may seem utterly out of place in the talk of one who is just now +confiding to you his daughter.</p> + +<p>"Johns, I have this faith in you, from our college-days: I know that on +the score of the things touched upon in the last paragraphs of my letter +you will not press me with inquiries. It is enough for you to know that +my life has not been all 'plain-sailing.' For the present, let us say +nothing of the griefs.</p> + +<p>"As little Adèle comes to me, and sits upon my knee, as I write, I +almost lose courage.</p> + +<p>"'Adèle,' I say, 'will you leave your father, and go far away over seas, +to stay perhaps for years?'</p> + +<p>"'You talk nonsense, papa,' she says, and leaps into my arms.</p> + +<p>"My heart cleaves strangely to her: I do not know wholly why. And yet +she must go: it is best.</p> + +<p>"The vessel of which I spoke will sail in three weeks from the date of +my letter for the port of New York. I have made ample provision for her +comfort on the passage; and as the date of the ship's arrival in New +York is uncertain, I must beg you to arrange with some friend there, if +possible, to protect the little stranger, until you are ready to receive +her. I inclose my draft for three hundred dollars, which I trust may be +sufficient for a year's maintenance, seeing that she goes well provided +with clothing: if otherwise, you will please inform me."</p> + +<p>Dr. Johns was not a man to puzzle himself with idle conjectures in +regard to the private affairs of his friend. With all kind feeling for +him,—and Maverick's confidence in the Doctor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[Pg 599]</a></span> had insensibly given +large growth to it,—the parson dismissed the whole affair with this +logical reflection:—</p> + +<p>"My poor friend has been decoyed into marrying a Frenchwoman. +Frenchwomen (like Frenchmen) are all children of Satan. He is now +reaping the bitter results.</p> + +<p>"As for the poor child," thought the Doctor, and his heart glowed at the +thought, "I will plant her little feet upon safe places. With God's +help, she shall come into the fold of the elect."</p> + +<p>He arranges with Mrs. Brindlock to receive the child temporarily upon +her arrival. Miss Eliza puts even more than her usual vigor and system +into her arrangements for the reception of the new comer. Nothing could +be neater than the little chamber, provided with its white curtains, its +spotless linen, its dark old mahogany furniture, its Testament and +Catechism upon the toilet-table; one or two vases of old china had been +brought up and placed upon brackets out of reach of the little hands +that might have been tempted by their beauty, and a coquettish porcelain +image of a flower-girl had been added to the other simple adornments +which the ambitious spinster had lavished upon the chamber. Her pride as +housekeeper was piqued. The young stranger must be duly impressed with +the advantages of her position at the start.</p> + +<p>"There," said she to Esther, as she gave a finishing touch to the +disposal of the blue and white hangings about the high-post bedstead, "I +wonder if that will be to the taste of the little French lady!"</p> + +<p>"I should think it might, Marm; it's the beautifullest room I ever see, +Marm."</p> + +<p>Reuben, boy-like, passes in and out with an air of affected +indifference, as if the arrangements for the new arrival had no interest +for him; and he whistles more defiantly than ever.</p> + + +<h3>XIX</h3> + +<p>In early September of 1829, when the orchard behind the parsonage was +glowing with its burden of fruit, when the white and crimson hollyhocks +were lifting their slanted pagodas of bloom all down the garden, and the +buckwheat was whitening with its blossoms broad patches of the hillsides +east and west of Ashfield, news came to the Doctor that his expected +guest had arrived safely in New York, and was waiting his presence there +at the elegant home of Mrs. Brindlock. And Sister Mabel writes to the +Doctor in the letter which conveys intelligence of the arrival,—"She's +a charming little witch; and if you don't like to take her with you, she +may stay here." Mrs. Brindlock had no children.</p> + +<p>A visit to New York was an event for the parson. The spinster, eager for +his good appearance at the home of her stylish sister, insisted upon a +toilet that made the poor man more awkward than ever. Yet he did not +think of rebelling. He rejoiced, indeed, that he did not dwell where +such hardships would be daily demanded; but remembering that he was +bound to a city of strangers, he recalled the Scriptural +injunction,—"Render unto Cæsar the things which be Cæsar's."</p> + +<p>The Brindlocks, well-meaning and showy people, received the parson with +an effervescence of kindness that disturbed him almost as much as the +stiff garniture in which he had been invested by the solicitude of Miss +Eliza; and when, in addition to his double embarrassment, a little +saucy-eyed, brown-faced girl, full of mirthful exuberance, with her dark +hair banded in a way that was utterly strange to him, and with +coquettish bows of ribbon at her throat, at either armlet of her jaunty +frock, and all down either side of her silk pinafore, came toward him +with a smiling air, as if she were confident of his caresses, the +awkwardness of the poor Doctor was complete.</p> + +<p>But, catching sight of a certain frank outlook in the little face which +reminded him of his friend Maverick, he felt his heart stirred within +him, and in his grave way dropped a kiss upon her forehead, while he +took both her hands in his.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This, then, is little Adaly?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" laughed Adèle, merrily, and, turning round to her new-found +friends, says,—"My new papa calls me Adaly!"</p> + +<p>The straightforward parson was, indeed, as inaccessible to French words +as to French principles. Adèle had somehow a smack in it of the Gallic +Pandemonium: Adaly, to his ear, was a far honester sound.</p> + +<p>And the child seemed to fancy it,—whether for its novelty, or the +kindliness that beamed on her from the gravest face she had ever seen, +it would be hard to say.</p> + +<p>"Call me Adaly, and I will call you New Papa," said she.</p> + +<p>And though the parson was not a bargaining man, every impulse of his +heart went to confirm this arrangement. It was flattering to his +self-love, if not to his principles, to have apparent sanction to his +prejudices against French forms of speech; and the "New Papa" on the +lips of this young girl touched him to the quick. Wifeless men are more +easily accessible to demonstrations of even apparent affection on the +part of young girls than those whose sympathies are hedged about by +matrimonial relations.</p> + +<p>From all this it chanced that the best possible understanding was +speedily established between the Doctor and his little ward from beyond +the seas. For an hour after his arrival, the little creature hung upon +his chair, asking questions about her new home, about the schools, about +her playmates, patting the great hand of the Doctor with her little +fingers, and reminding him sadly of days utterly gone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brindlock, with her woman's curiosity, seizes an occasion, before +they leave, to say privately to the Doctor,—</p> + +<p>"Benjamin, the child must have a strange mother to allow this long +separation, and the little creature so loving as she is."</p> + +<p>"It would be strange enough for any but a Frenchwoman," said he.</p> + +<p>"But Adèle is full of talk about her father and her godmother; yet she +can tell me scarce anything of her mother. There's a mystery about it, +Benjamin."</p> + +<p>"There's a mystery in all our lives, Mabel, and will be until the last +day shall come."</p> + +<p>The parson said this with extreme gravity, and then added,—</p> + +<p>"He has written me regarding it,—a very unfortunate marriage, I fear. +Only this much he has been disposed to communicate; and for myself, I am +only concerned to redeem his little girl from gross worldly attachments +to the truths which take hold upon heaven."</p> + +<p>The next day the Doctor set off homeward upon the magnificent new +steamboat Victory, which, with two wonderful smoke-pipes, was then +plying through the Sound and up the Connecticut River. It was an object +of almost as much interest to the parson as to his little companion. A +sober costume had now replaced the coquettish one with its furbelows, +which Adèle had worn in the city; but there was a bright lining to her +little hat that made her brown face more piquant than ever. And as she +inclined her head jauntily to this side or that, in order to a better +listening to the old gentleman's somewhat tedious explanations, or with +a saucy smile cut him short in the midst of them, the parson felt his +heart warming more and more toward this poor child of heathen France. +Nay, he felt almost tempted to lay his lips to the little white ears +that peeped forth from the masses of dark hair and seemed fairly to +quiver with the eagerness of their listening.</p> + +<p>With daylight of next morning came sight of the rambling old towns that +lay at the river's mouth,—being little more than patches of gray and +white, strewed over an almost treeless country, with some central spire +rising above them. Then came great stretches of open pasture, scattered +over with huge gray rocks, amid which little flocks of sheep were +rambling; or some herd of young cattle, startled by the splashing of the +paddles, and the great plumes of smoke, tossed their tails in the air, +and galloped away in a fright,—at which Adèle clapped her hands, and +broke into a laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601]</a></span>that was as cheery as the new dawn. Next +came low, flat meadows of sedge, over which the tide oozed slowly, and +where flocks of wild ducks, scared from their feeding-ground, rose by +scores, and went flapping off seaward in long, black lines. And from +between the hills on either side came glimpses of swamp woodland, in the +midst of which some maple, earlier than its green fellows, had taken a +tinge of orange, and flamed in the eyes of the little traveller with a +gorgeousness she had never seen in the woods of Provence. Then came +towns nestling under bluffs of red quarry-stones, towns upon wooded +plains,—all with a white newness about them; and a brig, with horses on +its deck, piled over with bales of hay, comes drifting lazily down with +the tide, to catch an offing for the West Indies; and queer-shaped +flat-boats, propelled by broad-bladed oars, surge slowly athwart the +stream, ferrying over some traveller, or some fish-peddler bound to the +"P'int" for "sea-food".</p> + +<p>Toward noon the travellers land at a shambling dock that juts into the +river, from which point they are to make their way, in such country +vehicle as the little village will supply, across to Ashfield. And when +they are fairly seated within, the parson, judging that acquaintance has +ripened sufficiently to be put to serious uses, says, with more than +usual gravity,—</p> + +<p>"I trust, Adaly, that you are grateful to God for having protected you +from all the dangers of the deep."</p> + +<p>"Do you think there was much danger, New Papa?"</p> + +<p>"There's always danger, said the parson, gravely. "The Victory might +have been blown in pieces last night, and we all been killed, Adaly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, terrible!" says Addle. "And did such a thing ever really happen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it, New Papa, please"; and she put her little hand in +his.</p> + +<p>"Not now, Adaly,—not now. I want to know if you have been taught about +God, in your old home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the good God! To be sure I have, over and over and over"; and she +made a little piquant gesture, as if the teaching had been sometimes +wearisome.</p> + +<p>This gayety of speech on such a theme was painful to the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"And you have been taught to pray, Adaly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! Listen now. Shall I tell you one of my prayers, New Papa? +<i>Voyons</i>, how is it"—</p> + +<p>"Never mind,—never mind, Adaly; not here, not here. We are taught to +enter into our closets when we pray."</p> + +<p>"Closets?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child,—to be by ourselves, and to be solemn."</p> + +<p>"I don't like solemn people much," said Adèle, in a quiet tone.</p> + +<p>"But do you love God, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Love Him? To be sure I do"; and after a little pause—"All good +children love Him; and I m good, you know, New Papa, don't you?"—and +she turned her eyes up toward him with a half-coaxing, half-mischievous +look that came near to drive away all his solemnity.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Adaly! Adaly! we are all wicked!" said he.</p> + +<p>Adèle stared at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"You, too! Yet papa told me you were so good! Ah, you are telling me now +a little—what you call—lie! a'n't you, New Papa?"</p> + +<p>And she looked at him with such a frank, arch smile,—so like the memory +he cherished of the college-boy, Maverick,—that he could argue the +matter no further, but only patted her little hand, as it lay upon the +cushion of the carriage, as much as to say,—"Poor thing! poor thing!</p> + +<p>Upon this, he fell away into a train of grave reflection on the method +which it would be best to pursue in bringing this little benighted +wanderer into the fold of the faithful.</p> + +<p>And he was still musing thus, when suddenly the spire of Ashfield broke +upon the view.</p> + +<p>"There it is, Adaly! There is to be your new home!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where? where?" says Adèle, eagerly.</p> + +<p>And straightway she is all aglow with excitement. Her swift questions +patter on the ears of the old gentleman thick as rain-drops. She looks +at the houses, the hills, the trees, the face of every +passer-by,—wondering how she shall like them all; fashioning to herself +some image of the boy Reuben and of the Aunt Eliza who are to meet her; +yet, through all the torrent of her vexed fancies, carrying a great glow +of hope, and entering, with all her fresh, girlish enthusiasms +unchecked, upon that new phase of life, so widely different from +anything she has yet experienced, under the grave atmosphere of a New +England parsonage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CHIMNEY-CORNER" id="THE_CHIMNEY-CORNER"></a>THE CHIMNEY-CORNER.</h2> + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<h4>LITTLE FOXES.—PART IV.</h4> + + +<h4>PERSISTENCE.</h4> + +<p>My little foxes are interesting little beasts; and I only hope my reader +will not get tired of my charming menagerie before I have done showing +him their nice points. He must recollect there are seven of them, and as +yet we have shown up only three; so let him have patience.</p> + +<p>As before stated, little foxes are the little pet sins of us educated +good Christians, who hope that we have got above and far out of sight of +stealing, lying, and those other gross evils against which we pray every +Sunday, when the Ten Commandments are read. They are not generally +considered of dignity enough to be fired at from the pulpit; they seem +to us too trifling to be remembered in church; they are like the red +spiders on plants,—too small for the perception of the naked eye, and +only to be known by the shrivelling and dropping of leaf after leaf that +ought to be green and flourishing.</p> + +<p>I have another little fox in my eye, who is most active and most +mischievous in despoiling the vines of domestic happiness,—in fact, who +has been guilty of destroying more grapes than anybody knows of. His +name I find it difficult to give with exactness. In my enumeration I +called him <i>Self-Will</i>; another name for him—perhaps a better +one—might be <i>Persistence</i>.</p> + +<p>Like many another, this fault is the overaction of a most necessary and +praiseworthy quality. The power of firmness is given to man as the very +granite foundation of life. Without it, there would be nothing +accomplished; all human plans would be unstable as water on an inclined +plane. In every well-constituted nature there must be a power of +tenacity, a gift of perseverance of will; and that man might not be +without a foundation for so needful a property, the Creator has laid it +in an animal faculty, which he possesses in common with the brutes.</p> + +<p>The animal power of firmness is a brute force, a matter of brain and +spinal cord, differing in different animals. The force by which a +bulldog holds on to an antagonist, the persistence with which a mule +will plant his four feet and set himself against blows and menaces, are +good examples of the pure animal phase of a property which exists in +human beings, and forms the foundation for that heroic endurance, for +that perseverance, which carries on all the great and noble enterprises +of life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603]</a></span></p> + +<p>The domestic fault we speak of is the wild, uncultured growth of this +faculty, the instinctive action of firmness uncontrolled by reason or +conscience,—in common parlance, the being "<i>set in one's way</i>." It is +the <i>animal</i> instinct of being "set in one's way" which we mean by +self-will or persistence; and in domestic life it does the more mischief +from its working as an instinct unwatched by reason and unchallenged by +conscience.</p> + +<p>In that pretty new cottage which you see on yonder knoll are a pair of +young people just in the midst of that happy bustle which attends the +formation of a first home in prosperous circumstances, and with all the +means of making it charming and agreeable. Carpenters, upholsterers, and +artificers await their will; and there remains for them only the +pleasant task of arranging and determining where all their pretty and +agreeable things shall be placed. Our Hero and Leander are decidedly +nice people, who have been through all the proper stages of being in +love with each other for the requisite and suitable time. They have +written each other a letter every day for two years, beginning with "My +dearest," and ending with "Your own," etc.; they have sent each other +flowers and rings and locks of hair; they have worn each other's +pictures on their hearts; they have spent hours and hours talking over +all subjects under the sun, and are convinced that never was there such +sympathy of souls, such unanimity of opinion, such a just, reasonable, +perfect foundation for mutual esteem.</p> + +<p>Now it is quite true that people may have a perfect agreement and +sympathy in their higher intellectual nature,—may like the same books, +quote the same poetry, agree in the same principles, be united in the +same religion,—and nevertheless, when they come together in the +simplest affair of every-day business, may find themselves jarring and +impinging upon each other at every step, simply because there are to +each person, in respect of daily personal habits and personal likes and +dislikes, a thousand little individualities with which reason has +nothing to do, which are not subjects for the use of logic, and to which +they never think of applying the power of religion,—which can only be +set down as the positive ultimate facts of existence with two people.</p> + +<p>Suppose a blue-jay courts and wins and weds a Baltimore oriole. During +courtship there may have been delightfully sympathetic conversation on +the charm of being free birds, the felicity of soaring in the blue +summer air. Mr. Jay may have been all humility and all ecstasy in +comparing the discordant screech of his own note with the warbling +tenderness of Miss Oriole. But, once united, the two commence business +relations. He is firmly convinced that a hole in a hollow tree is the +only reasonable nest for a bird; she is positive that she should die +there in a month of damp and rheumatism. She never heard of going to +housekeeping in anything but a nice little pendulous bag swinging down +from under the branches of a breezy elm; he is sure he should have water +on the brain before summer was over, from constant vertigo, in such +swaying, unsteady quarters,—he would be a sea-sick blue-jay on land, +and he cannot think of it. She knows now he don't love her, or he never +would think of shutting her up in an old mouldy hole picked out of +rotten wood; and <i>he</i> knows she doesn't love him, or she never would +want to make him uncomfortable all his days by tilting and swinging him +about as no decent bird ought to be swung. Both are dead-set in their +own way and opinion; and how is either to be convinced that the way +which seemeth right unto the other is not best? Nature knows this, and +therefore, in her feathered tribes, blue-jays do not mate with orioles; +and so bird-housekeeping goes on in peace.</p> + +<p>But men and women as diverse in their physical tastes and habits as +blue-jays and orioles are wooing and wedding every day, and coming to +the business of nest-building, <i>alias</i> housekeeping,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604]</a></span> with predilections +as violent, and as incapable of any logical defence, as the oriole's +partiality for a swing-nest and the jay's preference of rotten wood.</p> + +<p>Our Hero and Leander, then, who are arranging their cottage to-day, are +examples just in point. They have both of them been only children,—both +the idols of circles where they have been universally deferred to. Each +in his or her own circle has been looked up to as a model of good taste, +and of course each has the habit of exercising and indulging very +distinct personal tastes. They truly, deeply esteem, respect, and love +each other, and for the very best of reasons,—because there are +sympathies of the very highest kind between them. Both are generous and +affectionate,—both are highly cultured in intellect and taste,—both +are earnestly religious; and yet, with all this, let me tell you that +the first year of their married life will be worthy to be recorded as <i>a +year of battles</i>. Yes, these friends so true, these lovers so ardent, +these individuals in themselves so admirable, cannot come into the +intimate relations of life without an effervescence as great as that of +an acid and alkali; and it will be impossible to decide which is most in +fault, the acid or the alkali, both being in their way of the very best +quality.</p> + +<p>The reason of it all is, that both are intensely "<i>set in their way</i>," +and the ways of no two human beings are altogether coincident. Both of +them have the most sharply defined, exact tastes and preferences. In the +simplest matter both have <i>a way</i>,—an exact way,—which seems to be +dear to them as life's blood. In the simplest appetite or taste they +know exactly what they want, and cannot, by any argument, persuasion, or +coaxing, be made to want anything else.</p> + +<p>For example, this morning dawns bright upon them, as she, in her tidy +morning wrapper and trimly laced boots, comes stepping over the bales +and boxes which are discharged on the verandah; while he, for joy of his +new acquisition, can hardly let her walk on her own pretty feet, and is +making every fond excuse to lift her over obstacles and carry her into +her new dwelling in triumph.</p> + +<p>Carpets are put down, the floors glow under the hands of obedient +workmen, and now the furniture is being wheeled in.</p> + +<p>"Put the piano in the bow-window," says the lady.</p> + +<p>"No, not in the bow-window," says the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear, of course it must go in the bow-window. How awkward it +would look anywhere else! I have always seen pianos in bow-windows."</p> + +<p>"My love, certainly you would not think of dashing that beautiful +prospect from the bow-window by blocking it up with the piano. The +proper place is just here, in the corner of the room. Now try it."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I think it looks dreadfully there; it spoils the appearance of +the room."</p> + +<p>"Well, for my part, my love, I think the appearance of the room would be +spoiled, if you filled up the bow-window. Think what a lovely place that +would be to sit in!"</p> + +<p>"Just as if we couldn't sit there behind the piano, if we wanted to!" +says the lady.</p> + +<p>"But then, how much more ample and airy the room looks as you open the +door, and see through the bow-window down that little glen, and that +distant peep of the village-spire!"</p> + +<p>"But I never could be reconciled to the piano standing in the corner in +that way," says the lady. "<i>I insist</i> upon it, it ought to stand in the +bow-window: it's the way mamma's stands, and Aunt Jane's, and Mrs. +Wilcox's; everybody has their piano so."</p> + +<p>"If it comes to <i>insisting</i>," says the gentleman, "it strikes me that is +a game two can play at."</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear, you know a lady's parlor is her own ground."</p> + +<p>"Not a married lady's parlor, I imagine. I believe it is at least +equally her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605]</a></span> husband's, as he expects to pass a good portion of his time +there."</p> + +<p>"But I don't think you ought to insist on an arrangement that really is +disagreeable to me," says the lady.</p> + +<p>And now Hero's cheeks flush, and the spirit burns within, as she says,—</p> + +<p>"Well, if you insist upon it, I suppose it must be as you say; but I +shall never take any pleasure in playing on it"; and Hero sweeps from +the apartment, leaving the victor very unhappy in his conquest.</p> + +<p>He rushes after her, and finds her up-stairs, sitting disconsolate and +weeping on a packing-box.</p> + +<p>"Now, Hero, how silly! Do have it your own way. I'll give it up."</p> + +<p>"No,—let it be as you say. I forgot that it was a wife's duty to +submit."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Hero! Do talk like a rational woman. Don't let us quarrel +like children."</p> + +<p>"But it's so evident that I was in the right."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I cannot concede that you were in the right; but I am willing +it should be as you say."</p> + +<p>"Now I perfectly wonder, Leander, that you don't see how awkward your +way is. It would make me nervous every time I came into the room, and it +would be so dark in that corner that I never could see the notes."</p> + +<p>"And I wonder, Hero, that a woman of your taste don't see how shutting +up that bow-window spoils the parlor. It's the very prettiest feature of +the room."</p> + +<p>And so round and round they go, stating and restating their arguments, +both getting more and more nervous and combative, both declaring +themselves perfectly ready to yield the point as an oppressive exaction, +but to do battle for their own opinion as right and reason,—the animal +instinct of self-will meanwhile rising and rising and growing stronger +and stronger on both sides. But meanwhile in the heat of argument some +side-issues and personal reflections fly out like splinters in the +shivering of lances. He tells her, in his heat, that her notions are +formed from deference to models in fashionable life, and that she has no +idea of adaptation,—and she tells him that he is domineering, and +dictatorial, and wanting to have everything his own way; and in fine, +this battle is fought off and on through the day, with occasional +armistices of kisses and makings-up,—treacherous truces, which are all +broken up by the fatal words, "My dear, after all, you must admit <i>I</i> +was in the right," which of course is the signal to fight the whole +battle over again.</p> + +<p>One such prolonged struggle is the parent of many lesser ones,—the +aforenamed splinters of injurious remark and accusation, which flew out +in the heat of argument, remaining and festering and giving rise to +nervous soreness; yet, where there is at the foundation real, genuine +love, and a good deal of it, the pleasure of making up so balances the +pain of the controversy that the two do not perceive exactly what they +are doing, nor suspect that so deep and wide a love as theirs can be +seriously affected by causes so insignificant.</p> + +<p>But the cause of difficulty in both, the silent, unwatched, intense +power of self-will in trifles, is all the while precipitating them into +new encounters. For example, in a bright hour between the showers, Hero +arranges for her Leander a repast of peace and good-will, and compounds +for him a salad which is a <i>chef d'[oe]uvre</i> among salads. Leander is +also bright and propitious; but after tasting the salad, he pushes it +silently away.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you don't like your salad."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; I never eat anything with salad oil in it."</p> + +<p>"Not eat salad oil? How absurd! I never heard of a salad without oil." +And the lady looks disturbed.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, as I tell you, I never take it. I prefer simple sugar and +vinegar."</p> + +<p>"Sugar and vinegar! Why, Leander,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[Pg 606]</a></span> I'm astonished! How very <i>bourgeois!</i> +You must really try to like my salad"—(spoken in a coaxing tone).</p> + +<p>"My dear, I <i>never</i> try to like anything new. I am satisfied with my old +tastes."</p> + +<p>"Well, Leander, I must say that is very ungracious and disobliging of +you."</p> + +<p>"Why any more than for you to annoy me by forcing on me what I don't +like?"</p> + +<p>"But you would like it, if you would only try. People never like olives +till they have eaten three or four, and then they become passionately +fond of them."</p> + +<p>"Then I think they are very silly to go through all that trouble, when +there are enough things that they do like."</p> + +<p>"Now, Leander, I don't think that seems amiable or pleasant at all. I +think we ought to try to accommodate ourselves to the tastes of our +friends."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, suppose you try to like your salad with sugar and +vinegar."</p> + +<p>"But it's so <i>gauche</i> and unfashionable! Did you ever hear of a salad +made with sugar and vinegar on a table in good society?"</p> + +<p>"My mother's table, I believe, was good society, and I learned to like +it there. The truth is, Hero, for a sensible woman, you are too fond of +mere fashionable and society notions."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you told me that last week, and I think it was very unjust,—<i>very +unjust, indeed</i>"—(uttered with emphasis).</p> + +<p>"No more unjust than your telling me that I was dictatorial and +obstinate."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Leander, dear, you must confess that you are rather +obstinate."</p> + +<p>"I don't see the proof."</p> + +<p>"You insist on your own ways and opinions so, heaven and earth won't +turn you."</p> + +<p>"Do I insist on mine more than you on yours?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, you do."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so."</p> + +<p>Hero casts up her eyes and repeats with expression,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see oursels as others see us!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Precisely," says Leander. "I would that prayer were answered in your +case, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I think you take pleasure in provoking me," says the lady.</p> + +<p>"My dear, how silly and childish all this is!" says the gentleman. "Why +can't we let each other alone?"</p> + +<p>"You began it."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, begging your pardon, I did not."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Leander, you did."</p> + +<p>Now a conversation of this kind may go on hour after hour, as long as +the respective parties have breath and strength, both becoming secretly +more and more "set in their way". On both sides is the consciousness +that they might end it at once by a very simple concession.</p> + +<p>She might say,—"Well, dear, you shall always have your salad as you +like"; and he might say,—"My dear, I will try to like your salad, if +you care much about it"; and if either of them would utter one of these +sentences, the other would soon follow. Either would give up, if the +other would set the example; but as it is, they remind us of nothing so +much as two cows that we have seen standing with locked horns in a +meadow, who can neither advance nor recede an inch. It is a mere +deadlock of the animal instinct of firmness; reason, conscience, +religion have nothing to do with it.</p> + +<p>The questions debated in this style by our young couple were +surprisingly numerous: as, for example, whether their favorite copy of +Turner should hang in the parlor or in the library,—whether their pet +little landscape should hang against the wall, or be placed on an +easel,—whether the bust of Psyche should stand on the marble table in +the hall, or on a bracket in the library; all of which points were +debated with a breadth of survey, a richness of imagery,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607]</a></span> a vigor of +discussion, that would be perfectly astonishing to any one who did not +know how much two very self-willed argumentative people might +find to say on any point under heaven. Everything in classical +antiquity,—everything in Kugler's "Hand-Book of Painting,"—every +opinion of living artists,—besides questions social, moral, and +religious,—all mingled in the grand <i>mélée</i>: because there is nothing +in creation that is not somehow connected with everything else.</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson has said,—"There are a thousand familiar disputes which +reason never can decide; questions that elude investigation, and make +logic ridiculous; cases where something must be done, and where little +can be said."</p> + +<p>With all deference to the great moralist, we must say that this +statement argues a very limited knowledge of the resources of talk +possessed by two very cultivated and very self-willed persons fairly +pitted against each other in practical questions; the logic may indeed +be ridiculous, but such people as our Hero and Leander find no cases +under the sun where something is to be done, yet where little can be +said. And these wretched wranglings, this interminable labyrinth of +petty disputes, waste and crumble away that high ideal of truth and +tenderness, which the real, deep sympathies and actual worth of their +characters entitled them to form. Their married life is not what they +expected; at times they are startled by the reflection that they nave +somehow grown unlovely to each other; and yet, if Leander goes away to +pass a week, and thinks of his Hero in the distance, he can compare no +other woman to her; and the days seem long and the house empty to Hero +while he is gone; both wonder at themselves when they look over their +petty bickerings, but neither knows exactly how to catch the little fox +that spoils their vines.</p> + +<p>It is astonishing how much we think about ourselves, yet to how little +purpose,—how very clever people will talk and wonder about themselves +and each other, and yet go on year after year, not knowing how to use +either themselves or each other,—not having as much practical +philosophy in the matter of their own characters and that of their +friends as they have in respect of the screws of their gas-fixtures or +the management of their water-pipes.</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> won't have any such scenes with <i>my</i> wife," says Don Positive. +"I won't marry one of your clever women; they are always positive and +disagreeable. <i>I</i> look for a wife of a gentle and yielding nature, that +shall take her opinions from me, and accommodate her tastes to mine." +And so Don Positive goes and marries a pretty little pink-and-white +concern, so lisping and soft and delicate that he is quite sure she +cannot have a will of her own. She is the moon of his heavens, to shine +only by his reflected light.</p> + +<p>We would advise our gentlemen friends who wish to enjoy the felicity of +having their own way not to try the experiment with a pretty fool; for +the obstinacy of cleverness and reason is nothing to the obstinacy of +folly and inanity.</p> + +<p>Let our friend once get in the seat opposite to him at table a pretty +creature who cries for the moon, and insists that he don't love her +because he doesn't get it for her; and in vain may he display his +superior knowledge of astronomy, and prove to her that the moon is not +to be got. She listens with her head on one side, and after he has +talked himself quite out of breath, repeats the very same sentence she +began the discussion with, without variation or addition.</p> + +<p>If she wants darling Johnny taken away from school, because cruel +teachers will not give up the rules of the institution for his pleasure, +in vain does Don Positive, in the most select and superior English, +enlighten her on the necessity of habits of self-control and order for a +boy,—the impossibility that a teacher should make exceptions for their +particular darling,—the absolute, perishing need that the boy should +begin to do something. She hears him all through,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608]</a></span> and then says, "I +don't know anything about that. I know what I want: I want Johnny taken +away." And so she weeps, sulks, storms, entreats, lies awake nights, has +long fits of sick-headache,—in short, shows that a pretty animal, +without reason or cultivation, can be, in her way, quite as formidable +an antagonist as the most clever of her sex.</p> + +<p>Leander can sometimes vanquish his Hero in fair fight by the weapons of +good logic, because she is a woman capable of appreciating reason, and +able to feel the force of the considerations he adduces; and when he +does vanquish and carry her captive by his bow and spear, he feels that +he has gained a victory over no ignoble antagonist, and he becomes a +hero in his own eyes. Though a woman of much will, still she is a woman +of much reason; and if he has many vexations with her pertinacity, he is +never without hope in her good sense; but alas for him whose wife has +only the animal instinct of firmness, without any development of the +judgment or reasoning faculties! The conflicts with a woman whom a man +respects and admires are often extremely trying; but the conflicts with +one whom he cannot help despising become in the end simply disgusting.</p> + +<p>But the inquiry now arises, What shall be done with all the questions +Dr. Johnson speaks of, which reason cannot decide, which elude +investigation, and make logic ridiculous,—cases where something must be +done, and where little can be said?</p> + +<p>Read Mrs. Ellis's "Wives of England," and you have one solution of the +problem. The good women of England are there informed that there is to +be no discussion, that everything in the <i>ménage</i> is to follow the rule +of the lord, and that the wife has but one hope, namely, that grace may +be given him to know exactly what his own will is. "<i>L'état, c'est +moi</i>," is the lesson which every English husband learns of Mrs. Ellis, +and we should judge from the pictures of English novels that this "awful +right divine" is insisted on in detail in domestic life.</p> + +<p>Miss Edgeworth makes her magnificent General Clarendon talk about his +"commands" to his accomplished and elegant wife; and he rings the +parlor-bell with such an air, calls up and interrogates trembling +servants with such awful majesty, and lays about him generally in so +very military and tremendous a style, that we are not surprised that +poor little Cecilia is frightened into lying, being half out of her wits +in terror of so very martial a husband.</p> + +<p>During his hours of courtship he majestically informs her mother that he +never could consent to receive as <i>his</i> wife any woman who has had +another attachment; and so the poor puss, like a naughty girl, conceals +a little school-girl flirtation of bygone days, and thus gives rise to +most agonizing and tragic scenes with her terrible lord, who petrifies +her one morning by suddenly drawing the bed-curtains and flapping an old +love-letter in her eyes, asking, in tones of suppressed thunder, +"Cecilia, is this your writing?"</p> + +<p>The more modern female novelists of England give us representations of +their view of the right divine no less stringent. In a very popular +story, called "Agatha's Husband," the plot is as follows. A man marries +a beautiful girl with a large fortune. Before the marriage, he discovers +that his brother, who has been guardian of the estate, has fraudulently +squandered the property, so that it can only be retrieved by the +strictest economy. For the sake of getting her heroine into a situation +to illustrate her moral, the authoress now makes her hero give a solemn +promise not to divulge to his wife or to any human being the fraud by +which she suffers.</p> + +<p>The plot of the story then proceeds to show how very badly the young +wife behaves when her husband takes her to mean lodgings, deprives her +of wonted luxuries and comforts, and obstinately refuses to give any +kind of sensible reason for his conduct. Instead of looking up to him +with blind faith and unquestioning obedience, following his directions +without inquiry, and believing not only without evidence, but against +apparent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[Pg 609]</a></span> evidence, that he is the soul of honor and wisdom, this +perverse Agatha murmurs, complains, thinks herself very ill-used, and +occasionally is even wicked enough, in a very mild way, to say +so,—whereat her husband looks like a martyr and suffers in silence; and +thus we are treated to a volume of mutual distresses, which are at last +ended by the truth coming out, the abused husband mounting the throne in +glory, and the penitent wife falling in the dust at his feet, and +confessing what a wretch she has been all along to doubt him.</p> + +<p>The authoress of Jane Eyre describes the process of courtship in much +the same terms as one would describe the breaking of a horse. Shirley is +contumacious and self-willed, and Moore, her lover and tutor, gives her +"<i>Le Cheval dompté</i>" for a French lesson, as a gentle intimation of the +work he has in hand in paying her his addresses; and after long +struggling against his power, when at last she consents to his love, he +addresses her thus, under the figure of a very fierce leopardess:—</p> + +<p>"Tame or wild, fierce or subdued, you are <i>mine</i>."</p> + +<p>And she responds:—</p> + +<p>"I am glad I know my keeper and am used to him. Only his voice will I +follow, only his hand shall manage me, only at his feet will I repose."</p> + +<p>The accomplished authoress of "Nathalie" represents the struggles of a +young girl engaged to a man far older than herself, extremely dark and +heroic, fond of behaving in a very unaccountable manner, and declaring, +nevertheless, in very awful and mysterious tones, that he has such a +passion for being believed in, that, if any one of his friends, under +the most suspicious circumstances, admits <i>one doubt</i> of his honor, all +will be over between them forever.</p> + +<p>After establishing his power over Nathalie fully, and amusing himself +quietly for a time with the contemplation of her perplexities and +anxieties, he at last unfolds to her the mysterious counsels of his will +by declaring to another of her lovers, in her presence, that he "has the +intention of asking this young lady to become his wife." During the +engagement, however, he contrives to disturb her tranquillity by +insisting prematurely on the right divine of husbands, and, as she +proves fractious, announces to her, that, much as he loves her, he sees +no prospect of future happiness in their union, and that they had better +part.</p> + +<p>The rest of the story describe the struggles and anguish of the two, who +pass through a volume of distresses, he growing more cold, proud, +severe, and misanthropic than ever, all of which is supposed to be the +fault of naughty Miss Nathalie, who might have made a saint of him, +could she only have found her highest pleasure in letting him have his +own way. Her conscience distresses her; it is all her fault; at last, +worn out in the strife, she resolves to be a good girl, goes to his +library, finds him alone, and, in spite of an insulting reception, +humbles herself at his feet, gives up all her naughty pride, begs to be +allowed to wait on him as a handmaid, and is rewarded by his graciously +announcing, that, since she will stay with him at all events, she <i>may</i> +stay as his wife; and the story leaves her in the last sentence sitting +in what we are informed is the only true place of happiness for a woman, +at her husband's feet.</p> + +<p>This is the solution which the most cultivated women of England give of +the domestic problem, according to these fair interpreters of English +ideas.</p> + +<p>The British lion on his own domestic hearth, standing in awful majesty +with his back to the fire and his hands under his coat-tails, can be +supposed to have no such disreputable discussions as we have described; +since his partner, as Miss Bronté says, has learned to know her keeper, +and her place at his feet, and can conceive no happiness so great as +hanging the picture and setting the piano exactly as he likes.</p> + +<p>Of course this will be met with a general shriek of horror on the part +of our fair republican friends, and an equally general disclaimer on the +part of our American gentlemen, who, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[Pg 610]</a></span> far as we know, would be quite +embarrassed by the idea of assuming any such pronounced position at the +fireside.</p> + +<p>The genius of American institutions is not towards a display of +authority. All needed authority exists among us, but exists silently, +with as little external manifestation as possible.</p> + +<p>Our President is but a fellow-citizen, personally the equal of other +citizens. We obey him because we have chosen him, and because we find it +convenient, in regulating our affairs, to have one final appeal and one +deciding voice.</p> + +<p>The position in which the Bible and the marriage service place the +husband in the family amounts to no more. He is the head of the family +in all that relates to its material interests, its legal relations, its +honor and standing in society; and no true woman who respects herself +would any more hesitate to promise to yield to him this position and the +deference it implies than an officer of State to yield to the President. +But because Mr. Lincoln is officially above Mr. Seward, it does not +follow that there can be nothing between them but absolute command on +the one part and prostrate submission on the other; neither does it +follow that the superior claims in all respects to regulate the affairs +and conduct of the inferior. There are still wide spheres of individual +freedom, as there are in the case of husband and wife; and no sensible +man but would feel himself ridiculous in entering another's proper +sphere with the voice of authority.</p> + +<p>The inspired declaration, that "the husband is the head of the wife, +even as Christ is the head of the Church," is certainly to be qualified +by the evident points of difference in the subjects spoken of. It +certainly does not mean that any man shall be invested with the rights +of omnipotence and omniscience, but simply that in the family state he +is the head and protector, even as in the Church is the Saviour. It is +merely the announcement of a great natural law of society which obtains +through all the tribes and races of men,—a great and obvious fact of +human existence.</p> + +<p>The silly and senseless reaction against this idea in some otherwise +sensible women is, I think, owing to the kind of extravagances and +overstatements to which we have alluded. It is as absurd to cavil at the +word <i>obey</i> in the marriage ceremony as for a military officer to set +himself against the etiquette of the army, or a man to refuse the +freeman's oath.</p> + +<p>Two young men every way on a footing of equality and friendship may be +one of them a battalion-commander and the other a staff-officer. It +would be alike absurd for the one to take airs about not obeying a man +every way his equal, and for the other to assume airs of lordly +dictation out of the sphere of his military duties. The mooting of the +question of marital authority between two well-bred, well-educated +Christian people of the nineteenth century is no less absurd.</p> + +<p>While the husband has a certain power confided to him for the support +and maintenance of the family, and for the preservation of those +relations which involve its good name and well-being before the world, +he has no claim to an authoritative exertion of will in reference to the +little personal tastes and habits of the interior. He has no divine +right to require that everything shall be arranged to please him, at the +expense of his wife's preferences and feelings, any more than if he were +not the head of the household. In a thousand indifferent matters which +do not touch the credit and respectability of the family, he is just as +much bound sometimes to give up his own will and way for the comfort of +his wife as she is in certain other matters to submit to his decisions. +In a large number of cases the husband and wife stand as equal human +beings before God, and the indulgence of unchecked and inconsiderate +self-will on either side is a sin.</p> + +<p>It is my serious belief that writings such as we have been considering +do harm both to men and women, by insensibly inspiring in the one an +idea of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[Pg 611]</a></span> licensed prerogative of selfishness and self-will, and in the +other an irrational and indiscreet servility.</p> + +<p>Is it any benefit to a man to find in the wife of his bosom the +flatterer of his egotism, the acquiescent victim of his little selfish +exactions, to be nursed and petted and cajoled in all his faults and +fault-findings, and to see everybody falling prostrate before his will +in the domestic circle? Is this the true way to make him a manly and +Christ-like man? It is my belief that many so-called good wives have +been accessory to making their husbands very bad Christians.</p> + +<p>However, then, the little questions of difference in every-day life are +to be disposed of between two individuals, it is in the worst possible +taste and policy to undertake to settle them by mere authority. All +romance, all poetry, all beauty are over forever with a couple between +whom the struggle of mere authority has begun. No, there is no way out +of difficulties of this description but by the application, on both +sides, of good sense and religion to the little differences of life.</p> + +<p>A little reflection will enable any person to detect in himself that +setness in trifles which is the result of the unwatched instinct of +self-will, and to establish over himself a jealous guardianship.</p> + +<p>Everyman and every woman, in their self-training and self-culture, +should study the art of giving up with a good grace. The charm of polite +society is formed by that sort of freedom and facility in all the +members of a circle which makes each one pliable to the influences of +the others, and sympathetic to slide into the moods and tastes of others +without a jar.</p> + +<p>In courteous and polished circles, there are no stiff railroad-tracks, +cutting straight through everything, and grating harsh thunders all +along their course, but smooth, meandering streams, tranquilly bending +hither and thither to every undulation of the flowery banks. What makes +the charm of polite society would make no less the charm of domestic +life; but it can come only by watchfulness and self-discipline in each +individual.</p> + +<p>Some people have much more to struggle with in this way than others. +Nature has made them precise and exact. They are punctilious in their +hours, rigid in their habits, pained by any deviation from regular rule.</p> + +<p>Now Nature is always perversely ordering that men and women of just this +disposition should become desperately enamored of their exact opposites. +The man of rules and formulas and hours has his heart carried off by a +gay, careless little chit, who never knows the day of the month, tears +up the newspaper, loses the door-key, and makes curlpapers out of the +last bill; or, <i>per contra</i>, our exact and precise little woman, whose +belongings are like the waxen cells of a bee, gives her heart to some +careless fellow, who enters her sanctum in muddy boots, upsets all her +little nice household divinities whenever he is going on a hunting or +fishing bout, and can see no manner of sense in the discomposure she +feels in the case.</p> + +<p>What can such couples do, if they do not adopt the compromises of reason +and sense,—if each arms his or her own peculiarities with the back +force of persistent self-will, and runs them over the territories of the +other?</p> + +<p>A sensible man and woman, finding themselves thus placed, can govern +themselves by a just philosophy, and, instead of carrying on a +life-battle, can modify their own tastes and requirements, turn their +eyes from traits which do not suit them to those which do, resolving, at +all events, however reasonable be the taste or propensity which they +sacrifice, to give up all rather than have domestic strife.</p> + +<p>There is one form which persistency takes that is peculiarly trying: I +mean that persistency of opinion which deems it necessary to stop and +raise an argument in self-defence on the slightest personal criticism.</p> + +<p>John tells his wife that she is half an hour late with her breakfast +this morning, and she indignantly denies it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[Pg 612]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But look at my watch!"</p> + +<p>"Your watch isn't right."</p> + +<p>"I set it by railroad time."</p> + +<p>"Well, that was a week ago; that watch of yours always gains."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, you're mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I'm not. Did I not hear you telling Mr. B—— about it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, that was a year ago,—before I had it cleaned."</p> + +<p>"How can you say so, John? It was only a month ago."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you are mistaken."</p> + +<p>And so the contest goes on, each striving for the last word.</p> + +<p>This love of the last word has made more bitterness in families and +spoiled more Christians than it is worth. A thousand little differences +of this kind would drop to the ground, if either party would let them +drop. Suppose John is mistaken in saying breakfast is late,—suppose +that fifty of the little criticisms which we make on one another are +well- or ill-founded, are they worth a discussion? Are they worth +ill-tempered words, such as are almost sure to grow out of a discussion? +Are they worth throwing away peace and love for? Are they worth the +destruction of the only fair ideal left on earth,—a quiet, happy home? +Better let the most unjust statements pass in silence than risk one's +temper in a discussion upon them.</p> + +<p>Discussions, assuming the form of warm arguments, are never pleasant +ingredients of domestic life, never safe recreations between near +friends. They are, generally speaking, mere unsuspected vents for +self-will, and the cases are few where they do anything more than to +make both parties more positive in their own way than they were before.</p> + +<p>A calm comparison of opposing views, a fair statement of reasons on +either side, may be valuable; but when warmth and heat and love of +victory and pride of opinion come in, good temper and good manners are +too apt to step out.</p> + +<p>And now Christopher, having come to the end of his subject, pauses for a +sentence to close with. There are a few lines of a poet that sum up so +beautifully all he has been saying that he may be pardoned for closing +with them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! how light a cause may move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissension between hearts that love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts that the world has vainly tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrow but more closely tied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stood the storm when waves were rough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in a sunny hour fall off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like ships that have gone down at sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When heaven was all tranquillity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A something light as air, a look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A word unkind, or wrongly taken,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, love that tempests never shook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath, a touch like this hath shaken!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ruder words will soon rush in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spread the breach that words begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes forget the gentle ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They wore in courtship's smiling day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And voices lose the tone which shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tenderness round all they said,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, fast declining, one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweetnesses of love are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hearts so lately mingled seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like broken clouds, or like the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, smiling, left the mountain-brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though its waters ne'er could sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ere it reach the plain below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaks into floods that part forever."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[Pg 613]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NEEDLE_AND_GARDEN" id="NEEDLE_AND_GARDEN"></a>NEEDLE AND GARDEN.</h2> + +<h3>THE STORY OF A SEAMSTRESS WHO LAID DOWN HER NEEDLE AND BECAME A +STRAWBERRY-GIRL.</h3> + +<h4>WRITTEN BY HERSELF.</h4> + + +<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> + +<p>I imagine, that, if one went into any of the numerous places, in this or +any other city, where numbers of women are assembled as workers, or to +any of the charitable institutions where orphan children are taken in +and cared for, and were to institute a general examination of the +inmates as to their personal history, he would find few of them but had +experiences to relate of a kind to make the heart ache. From my own +incidental inquiry and observation of these classes, it would appear +that they afford representatives of every phase of domestic and +pecuniary suffering. I read of kindred sufferings which occasionally +happen to the high-born and wealthy, but here I have come in personal +contact with those in humble life to whom such trials seem to be a +perpetual inheritance.</p> + +<p>In our factory there was one operator on a machine with whom I never +could gain an acquaintance beyond the usual morning salutation which +passed between most of us as we came in to our daily employment. To me +she was reserved and taciturn, and it was evident that there was no +disposition on her part to be sociable. But somehow she fell in with my +sister's gay, open, and prepossessing manner, and there grew up a sort +of passionate intimacy between them that I could not account for, as she +was much older than Jane. When we stopped work at noon, they always +dined together by themselves, in a corner of the room, and a close and +incessant conversation was carried on between them, for an hour at a +time, as if they had been lovers. There must have been great mutual +outpourings of confidence, for my sister soon became acquainted with the +minutest particulars of her new friend's singular life.</p> + +<p>This woman's name was Vane. Who her father was no one knew but her +mother. When a child, she had lived with the latter in what was at that +time the remains of a wooden hut, that must have been among the very +first buildings erected in the forest which covered the northwestern +portion of what is now the suburbs of the great city around us. In this +little obscure home the two lived entirely alone. They had neighbors, of +course, but none of them could tell how they contrived to subsist. The +mother did no work, except for herself and her child; she had but a +small garden in front of the house, the embellishment of which was her +particular care; and she was surrounded with books, in the reading of +which she spent all her leisure time, having little intercourse with her +neighbors. The gossips that exist everywhere in society, if curious +about her affairs, could discover nothing as to how she lived so +comfortably without any visible means.</p> + +<p>When the daughter, Sabrina, grew up to sixteen, her beauty, the +character she developed, and her general conduct were the topic of quite +as much rural conversation and remark as had been the mystery that hung +around the mother. Gradually drawn out into the neighboring society, her +great personal attractions, added to her shrewdness and good sense, made +her so much admired as to collect around her a train of suitors, who +seemed to consider her being fatherless as of no more consequence to +them than it was to herself.</p> + +<p>But there was in her temperament an undercurrent of ambition so strong +as to cause her to receive their advances toward tender acquaintance +with a freezing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[Pg 614]</a></span> coldness, while at the same time it rendered her +positively unhappy. She felt superior to her condition, and she longed +to rise above it. Her mind had attained to a premature development while +feeding almost exclusively on its own thoughts,—for she had never been +fond of books, though there were many around her. Her sole occupations +had been the school, the needle, and assisting her mother in the +management of their flower-garden. For this last she had a decided +taste, and they had concealed the time-worn character of the old house +they occupied by covering it with a luxuriance of floral wealth, so +tastefully arranged, and so profuse and gorgeous, that travellers on the +dusty highway on which it stood would stop to admire the remarkable +blending of the climbing rose, the honeysuckle, and the grape.</p> + +<p>Thus filled with indefinite longings, she grew up to womanhood without +any proper direction from her mother. She had no sympathy with her +uncultivated suitors. She sighed for something higher, an ideal that was +far off, indistinct, and dim. Good offers of marriage from neighboring +workmen of fair character and prospects she stubbornly declined, +sometimes with a tartness that quite confounded the swain whom her +well-known character had half-intimidated before he ventured on the +dangerous proposal. Love had not yet unsealed the deep fountain of her +singularly constituted heart. But I suppose that there must somewhere be +a key to every woman's affections, and that it is generally found in but +few hands,—sometimes in safe ones, sometimes in very dangerous ones. It +was so with Sabrina.</p> + +<p>One evening, at a party, she became acquainted with a young sprig of the +medical profession, who was captivated by her beauty. The fellow was +loquacious, prepossessing, and bold, with an air of high life and +fashion about him to which Sabrina had not been accustomed. But though +unsteady, insincere, and wholly unworthy of her, yet the glitter of his +style and manner won her heart, and an engagement of marriage took place +between them, which he, for some unexplained reason, required of her to +keep secret. She was young and inexperienced, and so happy in her +prospects as to give but little thought to the obligation to +concealment. A future was opening to her such as she had longed for; her +ambitious aspirations for a higher destiny were about to be realized.</p> + +<p>Somehow the neighborhood became possessed of her secret,—not, however, +from her, but by that intuition which reveals to lookers-on the sure +finale of an intimacy such as every one saw had grown up between her and +the young physician. Her future was said to be a brilliant one; she was +to be rich, and a great lady. There were absurd and wide-spread +exaggerations of an almost every-day occurrence. Some sneered while they +repeated them, as if envious of her elevation, while others went so far +as to suggest surmises unworthy of her virtue. But Sabrina heard nothing +of what the little world around her said or thought. Happy in her own +heart, she was unconcerned as to all beyond.</p> + +<p>Months passed away, when all at once her lover ceased his visits. This, +too, was immediately observed by all the gossips of the neighborhood. It +was said that she had been cruelly deceived, even ruined. But she no +more than others was able to account for this unexpected abandonment. +The truth eventually came out, however. The father of her lover had +heard the common rumor, that his son was about marrying an obscure and +fatherless girl, questioned him, and warned him of the consequences. It +was the first serious intimation the young man had received that his +secret was known, and he resolved to cast off the poor girl, seeking to +pacify the reproaches of his conscience by accusing her of having +divulged it. There was not a manly impulse in his bosom; he gave her no +opportunity for explanation, but forsook her on the instant.</p> + +<p>For a time the victim of this faithlessness sunk under the weight of her +disappointment. To her proud spirit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[Pg 615]</a></span> the mortification was almost beyond +endurance. And if Divine Providence had not mercifully given to us, to +woman especially, strength according to our day, tempering the wind to +the shorn lamb, the world would be peopled with perpetual mourners. But +there is</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No grief so great but runneth to an end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hap so hard but will in time amend."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She bore up bravely, and in time her strong mind recovered in a good +degree its equilibrium. But she was now a subdued and thoughtful woman. +Four years passed away, during which her former admirers gradually +gathered around her again, solicitous, as before, to win her favor. To +one of them she gave her hand,—her heart was yet another's. Years of an +unhappy married life went over her, brightening no cloud above her head, +admitting no sunshine into her heart. All her ambitious aspirations had +been blasted, all her early hopes wrecked. Marriage had proved no +blessing to a mind so ill-regulated. Her mother died, and then her +husband. The secret source from which the mother had been supplied with +means was unknown to the daughter, and she had still pride enough to +refrain from all endeavor to solve the mystery. No one was able to do so +during the lifetime of the former,—who was there to do it after her +death?</p> + +<p>Thus thrown upon herself when only twenty-six years of age, she went to +work; and when we came to the factory, we found her there, the most +industrious and skilful of all the operators. Employment gave a new turn +to her thoughts. New associations opened other and more hopeful views to +her mind. She became cheerful, sometimes animated, and, with my sister, +intimate and confiding.</p> + +<p>But if interested in what my sister thus learned of her history, I was +to be still more surprised by the subsequent portion of it to which I +was myself a witness.</p> + +<p>One day a gentleman came into the room where we were at work, and +obtained from the proprietor permission to examine the mode in which it +was carried on. His age was probably fifty, and his dress and manner +evinced polish and acquaintance with society: if dress was ever an index +of wealth, his also indicated that. He went slowly round among the +machines, stopping before each, and courteously addressing and entering +into a brief conversation with the several operators in turn. Sabrina +was working a machine between my sister and myself. When he came to her, +he had more to say than to any of the others; and while conversing with +her, the proprietor came up, and, speaking to her on some business +matter, addressed her by name, "Sabrina."</p> + +<p>The stranger heard it. He gazed on her long and silently. Sabrina was +his own child, for whose discovery he had come among us! There could be +no mutual recognition by face and feature, because neither had ever seen +the other before,—the heartless parent had never kissed or fondled his +own child!—they had lived total strangers. There was no excitement at +the moment, nothing that could be called a scene,—no symptom of remorse +on the part of the one, nor of affectionate recognition by the other. I +could know nothing, therefore, of their relations to each other, even +though I saw them at the very moment the parent was identifying his +daughter. All these curious facts were communicated to us afterwards.</p> + +<p>That very evening Sabrina quitted her employment at the factory, and was +taken to her father's house, acknowledged as his child, her future to be +made by him as cloudless as in the past his own shameless neglect had +caused it to be gloomy.</p> + +<p>If in such a refuge as this factory there were gathered many examples of +the ups and downs of life, it was a blessing that such an establishment +existed. Here was a certainty of employment at wages on which a woman +could live. But, generally, such factories accommodated only what might +be called the better order of workers,—that is, the least necessitous.</p> + +<p>The press had been for years exalting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[Pg 616]</a></span> the character and attainments of +the working-women of New England, celebrating their thrift, their +intelligence, their neatness, even their personal loveliness, until the +fame of their numerous virtues has overshadowed, at least on paper, that +of all others, extending even to European circles, and becoming a theme +for foreign applause. But from what I have seen of the working-women of +my native city, I am satisfied that their merits have been undervalued +as much as their numbers have been underestimated. Both in the +sewing-school and in the factory, there were girls who were patterns of +all that is modest, beautiful, and womanly, many of them graduates of +the public schools, and worthy to be wedded to the best among the other +sex. No Lowell factory could turn out a larger or more interesting army +of young and virtuous girls than some of the establishments here in +which the sewing-machine is driven by steam.</p> + +<p>Then, as regards numbers, this city has a female manufacturing +population to which that of the largest manufacturing towns in New +England can bear no comparison. To particularize.</p> + +<p>The book-binderies reckon three thousand in their various +establishments, who fold and sew the sheets, and work the +ruling-machines. I have seen in one of these establishments a collection +of young women whose manners and deportment could not be excelled in any +assembly of their fashionable and wealthy sisters: the proprietor never +came in among them without removing his hat. As the work they do is +light and cleanly, so the dress of the workers is neat and tidy. These +earn two dollars and upward per week. Some hundreds of others are +employed in printing-offices, feeding the paper to book-presses: these +are able to earn more. Another class are employed in coloring maps and +prints, and among these are some who exhibit taste and skill fitted to a +much higher department of the arts. Thus the business of publishing, in +nearly all its branches, is largely aided by the labor of intelligent +women,—and it might be still more so, if they were taught the truly +feminine, as well as intellectual art, of type-setting.</p> + +<p>Thousands among us are engaged in binding shoes, some by machinery, and +some by hand; but the wages they receive are miserably small. The +clothing-stores employ some six thousand, but also paying so little that +every tailor's working-woman seeks the earliest opportunity of changing +her employment for something better. The hat-trimmers probably number +two thousand, while the cap-makers constitute a numerous body, whose +wages average three dollars per week. Several hundred educated girls, +possessed of a fine taste, are employed in making artificial flowers. +The establishments in which umbrellas and parasols are made depend +almost exclusively on the labor of women, while the millinery and +straw-goods branches owe most of their prosperity and merit to the +handiwork of female taste and skill. There are many who work for the +dentists, manufacturing artificial teeth. Even at the repulsive business +of cigar-making, in a close, unwholesome atmosphere continually loaded +with tobacco-fumes, there are many hundred women who earn bread for +themselves and their families.</p> + +<p>There is a lower class of workers who find employment in the +spinning-mills and power-loom factories that abound among us, and these +number not less than two thousand. They are the children of weavers who +came from England, Ireland, Scotland, and Germany. They have been +brought up from childhood to fill the bobbin or attend the spindle or +the loom, and are therefore skilled hands, young as many of them are. I +have known more than one affecting instance of aged parents having been +comfortably maintained by daughters belonging to this class.</p> + +<p>It has been one of the plumes in the cap of New England factory-girls, +that they kept themselves genteel on factory-wages, educated their +brothers, supported their parents, and yet had something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[Pg 617]</a></span> over when they +came to be married. I never could understand how such financial marvels +could be accomplished on the wages of a mill-girl. But I have seen great +things in the same line done among the untidy girls of foreign parentage +who work in the cotton and woollen factories of our city. These, +however, have toiled on silently and in obscurity, with no poet to +celebrate their doings, no newspaper to sound their praises, no magazine +to trumpet forth their devotion, their virtue, or even their beauty.</p> + +<p>I cannot give, with either fulness or accuracy, the industrial +statistics of a city like this; nor would I volunteer thus to increase +the dulness of my narrative, if it were in my power to do so. But it +will be seen, that, wherever a door stands open into which woman may +enter and obtain the privilege to toil, she is sure to ask for +admission. Wages are always a consideration, but employment of some +kind, whether remunerative or not, is a greater one. Of the thousands +thus toiling at all kinds of labor, some descriptions of which are +necessarily unhealthy, there are many whose once robust frames have +become attenuated and weary unto wearing out, whose midnight couch, +instead of being one of repose, is racked with cough and restlessness +and pain. The once brilliant eyes have lost their lustre, the once rosy +cheeks their fresh and glowing bloom. The young girl fades under +unnatural labor protracted far into the night. If she should fail to +toil thus, some infirm parent would go without food. The sick widow, +older in years, and farther travelled round the long circuit of human +sorrow, dares not indulge in the rest that is necessary even to life, +lest hungry children, as well as herself, should be even more severely +pinched by famine. No wonder that they knock at every door where a +little money may be had for a great amount of labor.</p> + +<p>But it must be granted, that, if the employments to which American women +are compelled to resort are often severe, and less remunerative than +they ought to be, they are by no means so unsuited to the sex as some +which women are forced into in other countries. Only a few years ago +many thousands of females were working under-ground in the English +coal-mines. When laws were enacted to abolish this unsuitable +employment, they still continued to work at the mouth of the mine, and +are thus employed at this moment. They labor in the coke-works and +coal-pits; they receive the ores at the pit's mouth, and dress and sort +them. The hard nature of the employment may not be actually injurious to +health, yet it quite unsexes them. Their whole demeanor becomes as +coarse and rude as their degrading occupation. As they labor at men's +work, so they wear men's clothing. A stranger would feel sure that they +were men, and it would be by their conversation alone that he could +identify them as women. He would think it strange to hear persons +dressed like men conversing together about their husbands, unless he had +been informed who they were.</p> + +<p>A celebrated English author speaks thus particularly of these unhappy +women:—"Some few months since, happening to be in Wigan, my attention +was directed to the, to me, unwonted spectacle of one of those female +colliers returning homewards from her daily labor. It was difficult to +believe that the unwomanly-looking being who passed before me was +actually a female; yet such was the case. Clad in coarse, greasy, and +patched fustian unmentionables and jacket, thick canvas shirt, great +heavy hob-nailed boots, her features completely begrimed with coal-dust, +her hard and horny hands carrying the spade, pick, drinking-tin, sieve, +and other paraphernalia of her occupation, her not irregular features +wearing a bold, defiant expression, and nothing womanly about her except +two or three latent evidences of feminine weakness, in the shape of a +coral necklace, a pair of glittering ear-rings, and a bonnet, which, as +regards shape, size, and color, strongly resembled the fan-tail hat of a +London coal-heaver,—she proceeded unabashed through the crowded +streets,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[Pg 618]</a></span> no one appearing to regard the degrading spectacle as being +anything unusual."</p> + +<p>Some work in the potteries at the laborious task of preparing the clay, +and others in the brick-yards, in open weather, and on the wet clay with +naked feet. At other times the same women are forced, by the nature of +their employment, to walk over hot pipes, obliging them to wear heavy +wooden shoes to protect their feet from being burned. Every stranger who +sees these women at their work is shocked at the impropriety and +dangerous nature of their occupation.</p> + +<p>So far exceeding masculine strength and endurance are the tasks imposed +on thousands of English dairy-women, that they constitute a special +class of patients with the medical faculty,—pining and perishing under +maladies arising entirely from over-fatigue and insufficient rest.</p> + +<p>There are multitudes of women in Liverpool who work daily on the farms +around that city. They walk four or five miles to the scene of their +toil, where they are required to be by six in the summer months and +seven in the winter. They work all day at the severest agricultural +labor, wielding a heavy, clumsy hoe, digging potatoes, grubbing up +stones from the soil, stooping on the ground in weeding, and compelled +even to the unfeminine and offensive employment of spreading manure. For +a day's work at what men alone should be required to do, they receive +but a shilling! Then, worn out with fatigue, having eaten little more +than the crust they brought with them,—for what more can be afforded by +one who earns only a shilling a day?—they drag themselves back at +nightfall over the increasingly weary miles which they traversed in the +morning. What comforts can fall to the lot of such? What a domestic life +must such unhappy creatures lead!</p> + +<p>There are yet others, in that land which boasts of its high +civilization, who live by carrying to the city immense loads of sand for +sixpence a day,—harder work than carrying a hod. Other women may be +daily seen collecting fresh manure along the streets and docks of +Liverpool.</p> + +<p>In certain rooms of the great English cotton-mills, the high temperature +maintained there compels the women to work in a half-naked condition. +This constant exposure of one half the body speedily destroys all +feminine modesty. Added to this is an extreme, but unavoidable, +filthiness of person. These poor creatures part with their health almost +as quickly as with their modesty. They become hollow-cheeked and pale, +while their coarse laugh and gestures indicate a deep demoralization.</p> + +<p>There are many English women engaged in the occupation of nail-making. +They work in glass-houses, glue-works, nursery-gardens, at ordinary +farm-work. On some of the canals they manage the boats, open the locks, +drive the horses, and sometimes even draw the boats with the line across +their shoulders. In short, wherever the lowest and dirtiest drudgery is +to be done, there they are almost invariably to be found. For wages, +they sometimes get tenpence a day, sometimes only sixpence. If they +perform overwork, they get a penny an hour,—a penny for the hauling of +a canal-boat for an hour! Here is poverty in its most abject condition, +and hard work in its most killing form. Their victims are necessarily +toilworn, degraded, and hopelessly immoral.</p> + +<p>It is such extreme destitution that drives women to crime. In an English +paper-mill, where the girls worked at counting the sheets in a room by +themselves, and made good wages, they were all well-behaved and +respectable. In another department of the same mill, where the work was +dirty and the wages only a shilling a day, they were almost uniformly of +bad character. The base employment degraded them,—the starvation wages +demoralized them. Philanthropy has not been deaf to the cries of these +unhappy classes, and has made repeated and herculean efforts to improve +their condition and reform their morals. But the stumbling-block of +excessively<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[Pg 619]</a></span> low wages was always in the way. It was found, that, until +the physical condition was improved, the ordinary wants of life +supplied, the moral status was incapable of elevation.</p> + +<p>I grant that no one item of this long catalogue of calamities has yet +overtaken the women of our own country. It would seem that the fact must +be, that in other lands the sex is not more degraded than it was +centuries ago, but that it has never been permitted to rise to its true +level. Once put down, it has always been kept down.</p> + +<p>The contrast between the condition of women in foreign countries and +their condition here is too striking to be overlooked. We have our +hardships, our trials, our privations; but what are they to those of our +European sisters? If we get low wages, they are in most cases sufficient +to enable us to maintain a respectable position and a decent appearance. +If the influence of caste is felt among us, if by some it is considered +ungenteel to work, this prejudice is not of American growth, but was +transferred to our shores from the very people with whom woman is +degraded to the level of the brutes. The first settlers brought it with +them, and it has descended to us as an inheritance. While it is our +province to confront it, we should do so bravely.</p> + +<p>But as yet, no woman here is compelled to engage in labor that involves +the necessity of dressing like a man. The law itself forbids such change +of dress; and when it was proposed, some years ago, to so alter our +costume as to make it half male and half female, not for working +purposes, but for mere personal convenience, the public sentiment of the +nation ridiculed and frowned it down. The other sex has been educated to +regard us with a respect and deference too sincere to permit these +foreign degradations to overtake us; while the spirit of independence +infused by the nature of our government, the unrestricted intercourse of +all classes with each other, and that robust training of thought which +it is impossible that any American woman should fail to receive, will +forever place us above the shocking contingencies to which the poor +laborious Englishwoman is exposed. If, in common with her, we are +compelled to work, our labor will keep us respectable, though it fail to +make us rich.</p> + +<p>These are some of the compensations which fall to the lot of the +American working-woman. There are many others,—too many, indeed, to be +recited here. Chief among them is the respect and courtesy accorded to +us by all classes. A public insult to a well-behaved woman is never +heard of. We may travel unattended over the vast network of railroads +that traverse our country, and passenger and conductor will vie with +each other in paying us not only respect, but attention. The former +instinctively rises from his seat that we may be accommodated. It is the +same in all public places,—in the streets, in churches, and in places +of public entertainment. At table we are served first. In short, as we +respect ourselves, so will others respect us. The laws have been +modified in our favor. The property of a woman is her own, whether +married or single. It is subject to no invasion by her husband's +creditors, yet her dower in his estate remains good.</p> + +<p>These are substantial concessions to our sex, and they are prime +essentials to personal comfort. For my part, I am content with them, +asking no other I have never slept uneasily because the law did not +permit me to vote or to become a candidate for office. The time was, as +I have heard, when women voted, all who were eighteen years old being +entitled to deposit their ballots. They mingled in the crowds about the +polls, and became as violently agitated by partisan excitements as the +men. Those who would have been quiet home bodies, had no such foolish +liberty been allowed them, became zealous politicians; while others, to +whom excitement of some kind was a necessity of life, turned to this, +and became so wild with political furor as to unsex themselves,—if +throwing aside all modesty be doing so. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[Pg 620]</a></span> carried placards in their +hands among the crowd to influence voters, distributed handbills and +tickets, entered into familiar conversation with total strangers, many +of them persons of infamous character, and pleaded and wrangled with +them to secure their votes. They obeyed literally the injunction of +modern political managers to "vote early,"—so many mere girls swearing +that they were of legal age, when they were in reality much younger, +that the singular statistical dislocation became apparent, that there +were no women in the country under eighteen years old. With so loose a +morality on this point, it cannot be doubted that the other injunction, +to "vote often," was as generally obeyed. I have no positive information +as to how the married women who thus devoted themselves to +electioneering managed their domestic concerns,—who prepared the +dinner, who rocked the cradle, who tended the baby,—or whether these +cards were thrust upon the husbands. History is silent on this subject; +but the more practical minds of the men of this generation can readily +conceive how inconvenient it would be for them to be transformed into +cooks and dry-nurses.</p> + +<p>I have had no ambition to parade in Bloomer costume, or to be otherwise +eccentric, even where it happened to be more comfortable. Neither have I +figured as the chairman or secretary of a woman's convention, nor had my +name ringing through the newspapers as an impatient struggler after more +rights than I now possess. I do not think that I should be happier by +being permitted to vote, and am sure there is no office I can think of +that I would have for the asking. But I was never one of the +strong-minded of my sex. I know that there are such, and that even in +this noisy world they have made themselves heard. How attentively they +have been listened to I will not stop to inquire. I have always believed +that the truest self-respect lies, not in the exaction of questionable +prerogatives, but in seeking to attain that shining eminence to which +the common sentiment of our fellow-beings will concede honor and +admiration as its rightful due.</p> + +<p>Yet the picture which represents the true condition of our working-women +has undeniably its harsh and melancholy features. It shows a daily, +constant struggle for adequate compensation. There is everywhere a +discrimination against them in the matter of wages, as compared with +those of men. It looks, in some cases, indeed, as if women were employed +only because they can be had at cheaper rates.</p> + +<p>Probably the gay ladies covered with brilliants that flash out +accumulated lustre from the footlights of the theatres they nightly +visit have no suspicion that the delicate and graceful girls they see +upon the stage are victims of this same unjust discrimination as regards +compensation. I have never been inside a theatre, and know nothing of +the stage, or of the dancing-girls, except what I hear and read. But I +can readily imagine how beautiful these young creatures must appear, +dressed in light and graceful attire, bringing out by all the well-known +artifices of theatrical costume the most captivating charms of face and +figure. As they crowd upon the stage in tableaux, which without long and +toilsome rehearsal would become more confused and aimless groupings of +gayly dressed dancers, they take their appointed places, and with a +symmetrical unity repeat the graceful combinations of attitude and +movement they have so laboriously acquired in private. The crowded house +is electrified by the complicated, yet truly beautiful display. All is +fair and happy on the outside. No step in painful, no grief shows +itself, no consciousness of wrong appears, no face but is wreathed in +smiles. The show of perfect happiness is complete.</p> + +<p>But do the crowd of rich men who occupy box and pit bestow a thought on +the domestic life of these young girls? Do their wives and daughters, +lolling on cushioned seats, clothed in purple and fine linen, and waited +on by a host of obsequious fops, ever think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[Pg 621]</a></span> whether the dancing-girls +have a domestic life of any kind or not? They came to the theatre to be +amused,—not to meditate; why should they permit their amusement to be +clouded by a single thought as to whether any others but themselves are +happy?</p> + +<p>Sometimes, in the evolutions of the dance, the gossamer dresses of these +ballet-girls are caught in the blaze of the footlights, instantly +enveloping them in fire, and burning them to a crisp,—and they are +borne from the theatre to the grave. Yet these girls, thus nightly +exposed to so frightful a death, are paid a third to a half less than +men employed in the same vocation, and who by dress are exempt from such +hazards. Moreover, the wardrobe of the men is furnished by the +theatrical manager,—while the girls, those even who receive but five +dollars a week, are compelled out of this slender sum to supply their +own. They must change it also at every caprice of fashion or of the +manager, sometimes at very short notice, and are expected, no matter how +heavy the heart or how light the purse, to come before the public the +impersonation of taste and elegance and happiness. A single dress will +at times consume the whole salary of a month; and to obtain it even at +that cost, the ballet-girl must work on it with her own hands day and +night. She must submit to these impositions, or give up her occupation, +when perhaps she can find nothing better to do.</p> + +<p>The star-actor, the strutting luminary of the theatre, whether native or +imported,—he who receives the highest salary for the least work,—when +the performance is closed, unrobes himself and departs, with no care or +oversight of the drapery in which he charmed his audience. He leaves it +in the dressing-room,—it is the manager's tinsel, not his,—and the +owner may see to it or not. Not so the poor ballet-girl, whose elaborate +performances have been an indispensable feature of the evening's +entertainment. Her gossamer dress, her costly wreaths of flowers, her +nicely fitting slippers, are carefully packed up,—for they are her own, +her capital in trade, and must be taken care of. The well-paid actor +goes to the most fashionable restaurant, gorges himself with rich dishes +and costly wines, then seeks his bed to dream blissfully over his fat +salary and his luxurious supper. The ballet-girl takes up her solitary +walk for the humble home in which perhaps an infirm mother is anxiously +waiting her return, exposed to such libertine insults as the midnight +appearance of a young girl on the street is sure to invite. It is many +hours since she dined; she is fatigued and hungry, but she sups upon a +crust, or the cold remains of what was at best a meagre dinner, with +possibly a cup of tea, boiled by herself at midnight,—then goes wearily +to bed, and sleeps as well as one so hard-worked and so poorly paid may +be able to.</p> + +<p>The gay crowds who spend their evenings at the theatres are permitted to +see but one side of this tableau. The curtain lifts upon the group of +smiling ballet-girls, but it never unveils their private life. The +theatre is intended to amuse, not to excite commiseration for the +realities of every-day life around us. Why should anything disagreeable +be allowed? If it sought to make people unhappy, it would soon become an +obsolete institution.</p> + +<p>With all these impositions, actresses and ballet-girls are proverbially +more tractable than actors, less exacting, more uncomplaining, more +unfailingly prompt in their attendance and in the discharge of their +arduous duties. Why, then, are they subjected to such grinding +injustice, except because of their weakness? And who will wonder, that, +thus kept constantly poor, they should sometimes fall away from virtue? +Their profession surrounds them with temptations sufficiently numerous +and insidious; and when to these is added the crowning one of promised +relief from hopeless penury, shall Pity refuse a tear to the unhappy +victims?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[Pg 622]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CASTLES" id="CASTLES"></a>CASTLES.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a picture in my brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only fades to come again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunlight, through a veil of rain<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To leeward, gilding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A narrow stretch of brown sea-sand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light-house half a league from land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And two young lovers hand in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A-castle-building.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the budded apple-trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The robins sing by twos and threes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even at the faintest breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Down drops a blossom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever would that lover be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind that robs the bourgeoned tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifts the soft tress daintily<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On Beauty's bosom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, graybeard, what a happy thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was, when life was in its spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To peep through Love's betrothal ring<br /></span> +<span class="i6">At Fields Elysian,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To move and breathe in magic air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that all that seems is fair!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, ripe young mouth and golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou pretty vision!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well, well,—I think not on these two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the old wound breaks out anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the old dream, as if 't were true,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In my heart nestles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tears come welling to my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For yonder, all in saintly guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As 't were, a sweet dead woman lies<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon the trestles!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[Pg 623]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="FAIR_PLAY_THE_BEST_POLICY" id="FAIR_PLAY_THE_BEST_POLICY"></a>FAIR PLAY THE BEST POLICY.</h2> + + +<p>It is said that Lord Eldon, the typical conservative of his day, shed +tears of sincere regret on the abolition of the death-penalty for +five-shilling thefts. The unfortunate Lord Eldons of our own day must be +weeping in rivers. Slavery is dead, and the freedmen are its bequest. +Through a Red Sea which no one would have dared to contemplate, we have +attained to the Promised Land. By the sublimest revenge which history +has placed on record, we have returned good for evil, and have punished +those who wronged us by requiring them to cease from doing wrong. The +grand poetic justice by which Maryland, the first State to shed her +brothers' blood, has been the first to be transformed into a condition +of happy liberty, only symbolizes a like severity of kindness in store +for all. Five years of devastating war will have only rounded the +sublime cycle of retribution predicted so tersely by Whittier long +ago:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Have they chained our free-born men?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us unchain theirs."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The time has come to put in practice that fine suggestion of the wise +foreign traveller, Von Raumer, which some of us may remember to have +read with almost hopeless incredulity twenty years ago. "The European +abolition of the dependent relations between men of one and the same +race was an easy matter, compared with the task which Americans have to +perform. But if, on the one part, this task carries with it many cares, +pains, and sufferings, on the other hand, the necessary instruction and +guardianship of the blacks, and their final reconciliation with the +whites, offer an employment so noble, influential, and sublime, that the +Americans should testify with awe and humility their gratitude to +Providence for intrusting them with this duty also, in addition to many +others of the greatest importance to the progress of the race. Were its +performance really impossible, it would not have been imposed."</p> + +<p>In important periods, words are events; and history may be read in the +successive editions of a dictionary. The transition from the word "serf" +to the word "citizen" marked no European epoch more momentous than that +revealed by the changes in our American vocabulary since the war began. +In the newspapers, the speeches, the general orders, one finds, up to a +certain time, a certain class recognized only as "slaves." Suddenly the +slaves vanish from the page, and a race of "contrabands" takes their +place. After another interval, these, too, gradually disappear, and the +liberated beings are called "freedmen." The revolution is then virtually +accomplished; and nothing remains but to rectify the details, and drop +the <i>d</i>. When the freedmen are lost in the mass of freemen, then the +work will be absolutely complete; and the retrospect of its successive +stages will be matter for the antiquary alone.</p> + +<p>Corresponding with these verbal milestones, one may notice successive +stages of public sentiment as to the class thus variously designated. It +was usually considered that the "slaves" were a vast and almost hopeless +mass of imbruted humanity. It was generally feared that the +"contrabands" would prove a race of helpless paupers, whose support +would bankrupt the nation. It is almost universally admitted that the +"freedmen" are industrious, intelligent, self-supporting, soldierly, +eager for knowledge, and far more easily managed than an equal number of +white refugees.</p> + +<p>There is no doubt that these last developments were in some degree a +surprise to Abolitionists, as well as to pro-slavery prophets. They +compelled the admission, either that slavery was less demoralizing than +had been supposed, or else that this particular type of human nature was +less easy to demoralize. It is but a few years since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[Pg 624]</a></span> anti-slavery +advocates indignantly rejected the assertion that the English peasantry +were more degraded than the slaves of South Carolina. Yet no dweller on +the Sea Islands can now read a book like Kay's "Social Condition of the +English People," without perceiving that the families around him, +however fresh from slavery, have the best of the comparison. In the one +class the finer instincts of humanity seem dead; in the lowest specimens +of the other those instincts are but sleeping. I have seen men and women +collected from the rice-fields by the hundred, at the very instant of +transition from slavery to freedom. They were starved, squalid, ragged, +and ignorant to the last degree; but I could not call them degraded, for +they had the instincts of courtesy and the profoundest religious +emotions. There was none of that hard, stolid, besotted dulness which +seems to reduce the English peasant below the level of the brutes he +tends.</p> + +<p>And what is surprising, above all, in the freedman's condition, is, not +that it shows a recuperative power, but that it has such a wonderful +suddenness in the recoil. It is not a growth, but a spring. It reverses +the <i>nihil per saltum</i> of the philosophers. In watching them, one is +constantly reminded of those trances produced by some violent blow upon +the head, from which the patient suddenly recovers with powers intact. +One looks for a gradual process, and beholds a sudden illumination. This +abates a little of one's wrath at slavery, perhaps, though the residuum +is quite sufficient; but it infinitely enhances one's hopes for the race +set free. It shows that they have simply risen to the stature of men, +and must be treated accordingly.</p> + +<p>And, indeed, when one thinks how unexampled in our tame experience is +the event which has thus suddenly raised them from their low estate, one +must expect to find something unexampled in the result. This is true +even where liberty has come merely as a thing to be passively received; +but in many cases the personal share of the freedman has been anything +but passive. What can most of us know of the awful thrill which goes +through the soul of a man, when, having come over a hundred miles of +hourly danger out of slavery to our lines, with rifle-bullets whizzing +round him and bloodhounds on the trail behind, he counts that for a +preliminary trip only, and, having thus found the way, goes back through +that hundred miles of peril yet again, and brings away his wife and +child? As Hawthorne's artist flung his hopeless pencil into Niagara, so +all one's puny literary art seems utterly merged and swept away in the +magnificent flood of untaught eloquence with which some such nameless +man will pour out his tale. Two things seem worth recording, and no +third: the passionate emotions of the humblest negro, as they burst into +language at such a time,—and the very highest triumph of the very +greatest dramatic genius, if perchance some Shakespeare or Goethe could +imagine a kindred utterance. Anything intermediate must be worthless and +unavailing.</p> + +<p>Now there is no doubt, that, under this great stimulus, the freedmen +will do their part; the anxious question is, whether we of the North are +ready to do ours. Our part consists not chiefly in money and old +clothes, nor even in school-books and teachers. The essential thing +which we need to give them is justice; for that must be the first demand +of every rational being. Give them justice, and they can dispense even +with our love. Give them the most exuberant and zealous love, and it may +only hurt them, if it leads us to subject them to fatal experiments, and +to fancy them exceptions to the universal laws.</p> + +<p>Cochin well says,—"To have set men at liberty is not enough: it is +necessary to place them in society." That American emancipation should +be a success is more important to every one of us than the whole +sugar-crop of Louisiana or the whole rice-crop of Georgia. Secure this +result, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625]</a></span> future opens for this nation a larger horizon than the +most impassioned Fourth-of-July orator in the old times dared to draw. +Fail in this result, and the future holds endless disorders, with civil +war reappearing at the end. If, therefore, there be any general +principle to assert, any essential method to inculcate, its adoption is +the most essential statesmanship. Twenty millions of white men, with +ballots and school-houses, will be tolerably sure to thrive, whatever be +the legislation: legislation for them is secondary, because they are +assured in their own strength. But four millions of black men, just +freed, and as yet unprovided with any of these tools,—the fate of the +nation may hinge on a single error in legislating for them.</p> + +<p>Now there are but two systems possible in dealing with an emancipated +people. All minor projects are modifications of these two. There is the +theory of preparation, under some form, and there is the theory of fair +play. Preparation is apprenticeship, prescription,—the bargains of the +freedman made for him, not by him. Fair play is to remove all +obstructions, including the previous monopoly of the soil,—to recognize +the freedman's right to all social and political guaranties, and then to +let him alone.</p> + +<p>There is undoubtedly room for an honest division of opinion on this +fundamental matter, among persons equally sincere. Even among equally +well-informed persons there may be room for difference, although it will +hardly be denied that those who favor the theory of "preparation" are in +general those who take a rather low view of the capacities of the +emancipated race. The policy pursued in Louisiana, for instance, was +undoubtedly based at the outset, whatever other reasons have since been +adduced, on the theory that the freedmen would labor only under +compulsion. I have seen an elaborate argument, from a leading officer in +that Department, resting the whole theory on precisely this assumption. +"The negro, born and reared in ignorance, could not for years be taught +to properly understand and respect the obligations of a contract. His +ideas of freedom were merged in the fact that he was to be fed and +clothed and supported in idleness." Whatever excuses may since have been +devised for the system, this was its original postulate. To suppose it +true would be to reject the vast bulk of evidence already accumulated, +all demonstrating the freedmen's willingness to work. Yet if the +assumption be false, any system founded on it must be regarded by the +freedmen as an insult, and must fail, unless greatly modified.</p> + +<p>In organizing emancipation, one great principle must be kept steadily in +mind. All men will better endure the total withholding of all their +rights than a system which concedes half and keeps back the other half. +This has been admirably elucidated by De Tocqueville in his "Ancien +Régime," in showing that the very prosperity of the reign of Louis XVI. +prepared the way for its overthrow. "The French found their position the +more insupportable, the better it became.... It often happens that a +people which has endured the most oppressive laws without complaint, and +as if it did not feel them, throws them off violently the instant the +burden is lightened,... and experience shows that the most dangerous +moment to a bad government is usually that in which it begins to mend. +The evil which one suffers patiently as inevitable seems insupportable +as soon as he conceives the idea of escaping it. All that is then taken +from abuses seems to uncover what remains, and render the feeling of it +more poignant. The evil has become less, it is true, but the sensibility +is keener."</p> + +<p>Every one who is familiar with the freedmen knows that this could not be +a truer description of their case, if every word had been written +expressly for them. The most timid laborer on the remotest plantation +will not bear from his superintendent or his teacher the injustice he +bore from his master. The best-disciplined black soldier will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626]</a></span> not take +from his captain one half the tyranny which his overseer might safely +have inflicted. Freedom they understand; slavery they understand. When +they become soldiers, they know that part of their civil rights are to +be temporarily waived; and as soon as they can read, they study the +"Army Regulations," to make sure that they concede no more. Neither as +citizens nor as soldiers do they retain the faculty of dumb, dead +submission which sustains them through every conceivable wrong while +enslaved. Before a blow from his master the slave helplessly cowers, and +takes refuge in silent and inert despair. He draws his head into his +shell, like a turtle, and simply endures. Liberate him, he quits the +shell forever, and the naked palpitating tissue is left bare. +Afterwards, every touch reaches a nerve, and every nerve excites a whole +muscular system in reflex action.</p> + +<p>I remember an amusing incident which took place while I was on picket at +Port Royal. Complaints began to come in against a certain neighboring +superintendent, an ex-clergyman, whose demeanor was certainly not +creditable to his cloth, but whose offences would have seemed slight +enough in the old plantation times. Still they were enough to exasperate +the people under his charge, and the ill feeling extended rapidly among +the black soldiers, many of whom had been slaves on that very island. At +last their captain felt it necessary to interfere. "Has it ever occurred +to you, my dear Sir," he one day asked the superintendent, "that you are +in some danger from these soldiers whom you meet every day with their +guns in the picket paths?"—The official colored and grew indignant. "Do +you mean to say, Sir, that your men are forming a conspiracy to murder +me?"—"By no means," returned the courteous captain. "I trust you will +find my soldiers too well disciplined for any such impropriety. But you +may not have noticed that the regiment has at present exceedingly poor +guns which often go off at half-cock, so that no one can be held +responsible. It was but the other day that one of our own officers was +shot dead by such an accident,"—which was unhappily true,—"and +consider, my dear Sir, how very painful"——"I understand you, I +understand you," interrupted the excited divine, putting spurs to his +horse. It was a remarkable coincidence that we never heard another +complaint from that plantation.</p> + +<p>It was this new-born sensitiveness that brought to so sudden a close the +attempted apprenticeship of the British West Indies. Cochin, the wisest +recent critic, fully recognizes this connection of events. "Either the +regulations were incomplete, or the masters failed in their observance, +or such failures were not repressed, so that the slaves were in many +places maltreated and mutinous. In proportion as the moment of freedom +approached, some broke loose prematurely from their duties, others +aspired prematurely to their rights. Patience long delayed is easier +than patience whose end is approaching; it is at the last moment that +one grows weary of waiting."</p> + +<p>The best preparation for freedom is freedom. It is of infinite +importance that we should avail ourselves of the new-born self-reliance +of the freedmen while its first vigor lasts, and guard against +sacrificing those generous aspirations which are the basis of all our +hope. It is not now doubted (except, perhaps, in Louisiana) that the +first eager desire of the emancipated slave is to own land and support +his own household. I remember that one of the ablest sergeants in the +First South Carolina Volunteers, when some of us tried to convince him +that the colored people attached too much importance to the mere +ownership of land, utterly refused all acquiescence in the criticism. +"We shall still be slaves," he said, in an impassioned way, "until eb'ry +man can raise him own bale ob cotton, and put him brand upon it, and +say, <i>Dis is mine</i>." And it was generally admitted in the Department of +the South, that the freedmen on Port Royal Island, who had mostly worked +for themselves,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627]</a></span> had made more decided progress, and were more fitted +for entire self-reliance, than those who had remained as laborers on the +plantations owned by Mr. Philbrick and his associates upon St. Helena +Island. Yet it would be impossible to try the system of tenant-industry +more judiciously than it was tried under those circumstances; and if +even that was found, on the whole, to retard the development of +self-reliance in the freedmen, what must it be where this is a part of a +great system of coercion, and where the mass of the employers are still +slaveholders at heart?</p> + +<p>It is a fact of the greatest importance, that King Cotton turns out to +be a thorough citizen-king, and adapts himself very readily to changed +events. The great Southern staple can be raised by small cultivators as +easily as corn or potatoes; and difficulty begins only when sugar and +rice are to be produced. Yet it will not be long before these also will +come within reach of the freedmen, if they continue their present +tendency towards joint-stock operations. In the colored regiments of +South Carolina there are organizations owning plantations, saw-mills, +town-lots, and a grocery or two: they even meditate a steamboat. A few +of these associations no doubt will go to pieces, through fraud or +inexperience. Indeed, I knew of one which was nearly broken asunder by +the president's taking a fancy to send in his resignation: no other +member knew the meaning of that hard word, and they were disposed to +think it a declaration of hostilities from the presiding officer. But +even if such associations all fail, for the present, the training which +they give will be no failure; and when we consider that there are +already individuals among the freedmen who have by profitable ventures +laid up twenty or thirty thousand dollars within three years, it seems +no extravagant ambition for a joint-stock company to aim at a rice-mill.</p> + +<p>The Sea Islands of South Carolina and Georgia, where, from the very +beginning, under the limited authority of General Saxton, the most +favorable results of emancipation have been attained, are now to be the +scene of a larger experiment, still under the same wise care. The +objections urged by General Butler, with his usual acuteness, against +some details of the project of General Sherman, must not blind us to its +real importance. Its implied exclusions can easily be modified; but the +rights which it vests in the freedmen are a substantial fact, which, +when once established, it will require a revolution to overthrow. The +locality fixed for the experiment is singularly favorable. There is no +region of the country where a staple crop can be grown so profitably by +small landholders. There is no agricultural region so defensible, in a +military aspect. So difficult is the navigation of the muddy +tide-streams which endlessly intersect these islands,—so narrow are the +connecting causeways,—so completely is every plantation surrounded and +subdivided by hedges, ditches, and earthworks, long since made for +agricultural purposes, and now most available for defence,—that nothing +this side of the famous military region of La Vendée (which this +district much resembles) can be more easily held by peasant proprietors.</p> + +<p>The mere accidents of the war have often led to the experiment of +leaving small bodies of colored settlers, in such favorable localities, +to support and defend themselves. This was successfully done, for +instance, on Barnwell Island, a tract two or three miles square, which +lies between Port Royal Island and the main, in the direction of +Pocotaligo, and is the site of the Rhett Plantation, described in Mr. W. +H. Russell's letters. This region was entirely beyond our picket lines, +and was separated from them by a navigable stream, while from the Rebel +lines it was divided only by a narrow creek that would have been +fordable at low water, but for the depth of mud beneath and around it. +On this island a colony of a hundred or thereabouts dwelt, in peace, +with no resident white man, and only an occasional visit from their +superintendent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628]</a></span> There were some twenty able-bodied settlers who did +picket duty every night, by a system of their own, and for many months +there was no alarm whatever,—the people raising their cotton and +supporting themselves. This went on, until, by a fatal error of +judgment, the men were all conscripted into the army. This was soon +discovered by the Rebels, who presently began to make raids upon the +island, so that ultimately the whole population had to be withdrawn.</p> + +<p>Extend such settlements indefinitely, and we have the system adopted by +General Sherman. It is a system which, like every other practicable +method, must depend on military authority at last, and for which the +army should therefore be directly responsible. The main argument for +intrusting the care of the freedmen to a bureau of the War Department +is, that it must come to be controlled by that Department, at any rate, +and that it is best to have the responsibility rest where the power +lies. On conquered territory there can be but one authority, and no +conceivable ingenuity can construct any other system. If authority is +apparently divided, then either the military commander does not +understand his business, or he is hampered by impracticable orders and +should ask to be relieved. This is what has paralyzed the action of +every military governor, a title which implies a perfectly anomalous +function, certain to lead to trouble. Almost all the great good effected +by General Saxton has been achieved in spite of that function, not by +means of it; and it was not until he was placed in military command of +the post of Beaufort that he was able, even in that limited region, to +establish any satisfactory authority. All else that he did was by +sufferance, and often he could not even obtain sufferance.</p> + +<p>While the war lasts, martial law must last. After martial law ceases, +civil institutions, whatever they may then be, must resume control. It +is therefore essential that all the rights of the freedmen should be put +upon a sure basis during the contest; but, whatever method be adopted, +the real control must inevitably rest with the War Department. It cannot +be transferred to civilians; nor is there reason to suppose it desirable +for the freedmen that it should. Whatever be the disorder resulting from +military command, it has the advantage of being more definite and +intelligible than civil mismanagement; there is always some one who can +be held responsible, and the offender is far more easily brought to +account. On this point I speak from personal experience. In South +Carolina I have seen outrages persistently practised among the freedmen +by civilians, for which a military officer could have been cashiered in +a month. I have oftener been appealed to for redress against civilians +than against officers or soldiers. I have been compelled to post +sentinels to keep superintendents away from their own plantations, to +prevent disturbance. I have been a member of a military commission which +sentenced to the pillory an eminent Sunday-school teacher who had been +convicted of the unlawful sale of whiskey,—and this in a community into +which the majority of the civilians had come with professedly benevolent +intent.</p> + +<p>The truth is, that abuses, acts of oppression towards the freedmen, do +not proceed from mere antecedent prejudice in the army or anywhere else. +They proceed from the temptations of power, and from that impatience +which one is apt to restrain among his equals and to indulge among his +inferiors. The irritability of an Abolitionist may lead him to outrages +as great as those which spring from the selfishness of a mere soldier. +It is becoming almost proverbial, in colored regiments, that radical +anti-slavery men make the best and the worst officers: the best, because +of their higher motives and more elevated standard; the worst, because +they are often ungoverned, insubordinate, impatient, and will sometimes +venture on high-handed acts, under the fervor of their zeal, such as a +mere soldier would not venture to commit. Yet in an army<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629]</a></span> such +aberrations, like all others, yield to discipline. But on a solitary +plantation the temptations and immunities of the slave-driver recur; and +I have seen men yield to these, who had safely passed the ordeal of +persecution and mobs at home.</p> + +<p>It was thus, perhaps, that General Sherman and his advisers felt +justified in adopting the theory of absolute separation, on the Sea +Islands,—seeing that the companionship of Southern white men would be +an evil, and that of Northern men by no means an unmixed good. Yet it +seems altogether likely that the system is so far wrong, and will be +modified. Separation is better than "preparation," and is a good +antidote to it. It is better to assume the freedmen too self-reliant +than too feeble,—better to exclude white men than to give them the +monopoly of power. Nevertheless, the principle of exclusion is wrong, +though it is happily a wrong not fundamental to the system, and hence +easily corrected. If the people of any village desire to introduce a +white teacher, the prohibition would become an obvious outrage, which +hardly any administration would risk the odium of maintaining. The +injury, in a business point of view, done by separation would perhaps +strike deeper, and be harder to correct. Here, for instance, is the +flourishing negro village of Mitchellville, just outside of the +fortifications of Hilton Head. All that is produced in the numerous +garden-patches of the suburb is to be sold in the town; all the clothing +that is to be worn in the suburb must be obtained in exchange for the +garden-products. Yet, if newspaper correspondents tell truth, the +temporary commander of that post has taken it on himself to forbid white +men from trading in Mitchellville, or black men at Hilton Head. How, +then, is business to be transacted? Are the inhabitants of the town to +be allowed to come to the sally-port of the fortifications, hand out a +yard of ribbon and receive two eggs in return? If the entire exchanges +are to be intrusted to a few privileged favorites, black or white, then +another source of fraud is added to those which lately, in connection +with the recruiting bounties, have been brought to bear upon the +freedmen of that Department, and, if the truth be told, under the same +auspices from which this order proceeds. Be this as it may, it seems a +pity that these poor people, who are just learning what competition +means, and will walk five miles farther to a shop where dry goods are +retailed a little cheaper, should be checked and hampered in their +little commerce by an attempt to abolish all the laws of political +economy in their favor.</p> + +<p>If the freedmen were a race like the Indians, wasting away by unseen +laws through the mere contact of the white man, the case would be very +different. Or if they were a timid and dependent race, needing to be +thrust roughly from the nest, like young birds, and made self-dependent, +the difference would be greater still. But it is not so. The negro race +fits into the white race, and thrives by its side; and the farther +South, the greater the thriving. The emancipated slave is also +self-relying, and, if fair play be once given, can hold his own against +his former master, whether in trade or in war. He is improvident while +in slavery, as is the Irishman in Ireland, because he has no opportunity +to be anything else. Shift the position, and the man changes with +it,—becoming, whether Irishman or negro, a shrewd economist, and rather +formidable at a bargain. Almost every freedman is cheated by a white man +once after his emancipation, and many twice; but when it comes to the +third bargain, it is observed that mere Anglo-Saxon blood is not +sufficient to secure a victory.</p> + +<p>It is claimed that this principle of separation was adopted after +consultation with the leading colored men of Savannah, and that the only +dissenter was the Rev. James Lynch, a Northern colored man. But it also +turns out that Mr. Lynch was the only man among them who had ever seen +the experiment tried of the mingling of the races in a condition of +liberty. He is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630]</a></span> a man of marked energy and ability, and has been for two +years one of the most useful missionaries in the neighborhood of Port +Royal. Some weight is, no doubt, to be attached to the opinions of those +who had known white men only as masters; but we should not wholly ignore +the judgment of the only delegate who had met them on equal terms. In +restoring men from the trance of slavery, the instincts of the patient, +though doubtless an important fact, are not the only point to be +considered. It may be true, as Hippocrates said, that the second-best +remedy will succeed better than the best, if the patient likes it best. +But it is not safe to forget that those who have never known their +brother-men except in the light of oppressors may have some crude +notions on political economy which a milder experience might change. At +any rate, the more exclusive features of General Sherman's project may +be changed by a stroke of the pen; and so far as it tends to secure the +freedmen in permanent possession of the Sea Islands, it is almost an +unmingled good.</p> + +<p>The truth is, that, in these changing days, none of these specific +"systems" are very important. "Separation" is interesting chiefly +because it is the last project reported; "preparation," because it was +the last but one. What is needed is not so much a "system" as the +settled resolution to do daily justice. Let any military commander +merely determine to treat the emancipated black population precisely as +he would treat a white population under the same circumstances,—to +encourage industry, schools, savings-banks, and all the rest, but not +interfere with any of them too much,—and he will have General Saxton's +method and his success. The question what to do with the soil is far +more embarrassing than what to do with the freedmen; and happily the +soil also can be let alone, and the freedmen will take care of that and +of themselves too. We must say to the cotton lords, as Horne Tooke said +to Lord Somebody in England,—"If, as you claim, power should follow +property, then we will take from you the property, and the power shall +follow." And fortunately for us, the same logic of events points to the +political enfranchisement of the black loyalists, as the only way to +prevent Congress from being replenished with plotting and disloyal men. +Fair play to them is thus fair play to all of us; and, like Tony +Lumpkin, in Goldsmith's comedy, if we are indifferent as to +disappointing those who depend upon us, we may at least be trusted not +to disappoint ourselves.</p> + +<p>The lingering caste-institutions in the Free States,—as the exclusive +street-cars of Philadelphia, the separate schools of New York, the +special gallery reserved for colored people in Boston theatres,—must +inevitably pass away with the institution which they merely reflect. The +perfect acquiescence with which abolition of these things is regarded, +so soon as it takes effect, shows how little they are really sustained +by public opinion. These are local matters, mere corollaries, and will +settle themselves. They are not upheld by any conviction, and scarcely +even by prejudice, but by an impression in each citizen's mind that +there is some other citizen who is not prepared for the change. When it +comes to the point, it is found that everybody is perfectly prepared, +and that the objections were merely traditional. Who has ever heard of +so much as a petition to restore any of the unjust distinctions which +have thus been successively outgrown?</p> + +<p>But in our vast national dealings with the freedmen, we still drift from +experiment to experiment, and adopt no settled purpose. Did this proceed +from the difficulty of wise solution, in so vast a problem, one could +blame it the less. But thus far the greatest want has been, not of +wisdom, but of fidelity,—not of constructive statesmanship, but rather +of pains to discern and of honesty to observe the humbler path of daily +justice. When we consider that the order which laid the basis for the +whole colored army—the "Instructions" of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631]</a></span> the Secretary of War to +Brigadier-General Saxton, dated August 25, 1862—was so carelessly +regarded by the War Department that it was not even placed on file, but +a copy had to be supplied, the year following, by the officer to whom it +was issued, it is obvious in what a hap-hazard way we have stumbled, +into the most momentous acts. A government that still repudiates a duty +so simple as the payment of arrears due under its own written pledges to +the South Carolina soldiers can hardly shelter itself behind the plea of +any complicated difficulties in its problem. Let us hope that the +freedmen, on their part, will be led by some guidance better than our +example: that they will not neglect their duties as their rights have +been neglected, and not wrong others as they have been wronged.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES" id="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Autobiography, Correspondence, etc., of Lyman Beecher, D. D.</i> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Beecher</span>. With Illustrations. In Two Volumes. +New York. Harper & Brothers.</p></div> + +<p>Reading this life of Dr. Beecher is like walking over an ancient +battle-field, silent and grass-grown, but ridged with graves, and +showing still by its conformation the disposition of the troops which +once struggled there in deadly contest,—and while we linger, lo! the +graves are graves no more. The dry bones come together,—sinew and flesh +form upon them,—the skin covers them about,—the breath enters into +them,—they live and stand upon their feet, an exceeding great and +mighty army. Drums beat, swords flash, and the war of the Titans rages +again around us.</p> + +<p>The life of Dr. Beecher is closely inwoven with the ecclesiastical +history of New England. Ecclesiastical, like civil history, is chiefly a +military record; and through both these volumes a sound of battle is in +the land, and of great destruction. We who have fallen on comparatively +quiet days can hardly conceive the intensity and violence of the +excitement that glowed at our theological centres, and flamed out even +to their circumferences, when the great Unitarian controversy was at its +height,—when Park-Street Church alone of the Boston churches stood firm +in the ancient faith, and her site was popularly christened "Hell-Fire +Corner,"—when, later, the Hanover-Street Church was known as "Beecher's +Stone Jug" and the firemen refused to play upon the flames that were +destroying it. There were giants on the earth in those days, and they +wrestled in giant fashion.</p> + +<p>All this conflict Dr. Beecher saw, and a large part of it he was. In +Connecticut he had drawn his sword against intemperance, "Toleration," +and other forms of what he considered evil, and had been recognized as a +mighty man of valor in his generation; but it was in this Unitarian +controversy that he leaped to the battlements of Zion, sounded the alarm +through the land, and took his place henceforth as leader of the hosts +of the elect. "I had watched the whole progress," he says, "and read +with eagerness everything that came out on the subject. My mind had been +heating, heating, heating. Now I had a chance to strike." And strike he +did, blows rapid and vigorous, whose echoes ring even through these +silent pages. It was to him a real warfare. His speech ran naturally to +military phrase. He saw the foe coming in like a flood. "The enemy, +driven from the field by the immortal Edwards, have returned to the +charge, and now the battle is to be fought over again." "The time has at +length fully come to take hold of the Unitarian controversy by the +horns." "The enemies ... are collecting their energies and meditating a +comprehensive system of attack, which demands on our part a +corresponding concert of action." "Let the stand taken be had in +universal and everlasting remembrance, and we shall soon get the enemy +out of the camp." "Wake up, ministers, form conspiracies against error, +and scatter firebrands in the enemy's camp." "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632]</a></span> schism in our ranks, +with the enemy before and behind us, would indeed be confusion in the +camp." "It is the moment to charge as Wellington did at Waterloo." "Will +Walker and his friends feel as if my gun was loaded deep enough for the +first shot, and will the Orthodox think I have done so far sufficient +execution?... As the game is out of sight, I must depend on those who +are near to tell me what are the effects of the first fire." "My sermons +on Depravity ... are point-blank shot."</p> + +<p>Nor was the fight between Unitarian and Orthodox alone. Even within the +ranks of the faithful dissensions arose, and many a time and oft had Dr. +Beecher to defend himself against the charges, the insinuations, and the +suspicions of his brethren. To the eyes of the more cautious or the more +inert his adventurous feet seemed ever approaching the verge of heresy. +Just where original sin ceases to be original and becomes +acquired,—just where innate ill-desert meets voluntary +transgression,—just where moral government raises the standard of +rebellion against Absolutism,—just where New Haven theology branches +off from ultra Orthodoxy on the debatable ground, the border-land of +metaphysics and religion, Dr. Beecher and his brethren were engaged in +perpetual skirmishing.</p> + +<p>It is not our province to decide or even to discuss the points at issue. +Uninitiated laymen may perhaps be pardoned for hearing in all this din +of battle but the echo of the Schoolmen's guns. Whether the two-year-old +baby who dashes his bread-and-butter on the floor, in wrath at the lack +of marmalade, does it because of a prevailing effectual tendency in his +nature, or in consequence of his federal alliance with Adam, or from a +previous surfeit of plum-cake, is a question which seems to bear a +general family likeness to the inquiry, whether there is such a thing as +generic bread-and-butter, or only such specific slices as arouse infant +ire and nourish infant tissue. But around both classes of questions +strife has waxed hot. Both have called out the utmost strength of the +ablest minds, and both, however finespun they may seem to the +uninstructed eye, have contributed in no small measure to the mental and +moral health of the world. But while we would not make so great a +mistake as to look with a supercilious smile either upon the conflict +between Nominalism and Realism or on that between the Old and the New +School theology, (notwithstanding we might find countenance in Dr. Pond +of Bangor, who writes to Dr. Beecher, "In Maine we do not sympathize +very deeply in your Presbyterian squabbles, except to look on and laugh +at you all!") it may be permitted us as laymen to confess a greater +interest in the phenomena than in the event of the struggle. We leave +it, therefore, to our ecclesiastical contemporaries to descend into the +arena and fight their battles o'er again, content ourselves to stand +without and give thanks for the Divine voice that rises above the clash +of contending creeds, saying alike to wise and foolish, "God so loved +the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth +in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."</p> + +<p>Spite of all the truculence of his language, and through all his +strenuous thrust and parry, Dr. Beecher's sincerity, integrity, and +piety shine forth unclouded. Looking at this memorial in one aspect, he +seems to have assumed a charge which Mr. Lincoln has professed himself +unable to undertake, namely, to "run the churches." He evidently +believed that the Lord had committed to the clergy, of whom he was +chief, the building up of a great ecclesiastical edifice, whose +foundation should be laid in New England, but whose wings should +presently cover the whole land. Individual churches were the pillars of +this edifice. Now in Boston, now in New Haven, now at Cincinnati, he +watched its progress, noting a fault, praising an excellence, repairing +mistakes, strengthening weaknesses. It was the business and the delight +of his life. He had his agents throughout the country. The churches +might be many, but the cause was one. Ever watchful, ever active, he +spoke of his measures and his plans in just such terse, homely phrase as +any house-carpenter would use. Doubtless the fragile reverence of many a +clerical cumberer of the ground was shocked by his familiar use of their +sacred edge-tools. One can imagine the thrill of horror with which the +Reverend Cream Cheese, of the Church of the Holy (Self-) Assumption, +would hear the assertion, that "it was as finely organized a church as +ever trod shoe-leather." Our elegant Unitarian friends have probably +quite forgotten, and will hardly thank us for reminding them, that there +ever was a time when they "put mouth to ear, and hand to pocket, and +said, <i>St-boy!</i>" Our decorous Calvinistic D.D.s would scarcely recognize +their own dogmas at the inquiry-meeting, where "language of simplicity +came along, and they'd see me talking 'way down in language<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633]</a></span> fit for +children.... And then the language of free agency and ability came along +... and they'd stick up their ears.... But next minute came along the +plea of morality and self-dependence, and I took them by the nape of the +neck and twisted their head off." There must have been great inertness +in New England at the time of his first visit to Boston, when "nobody +seemed to have an idea that there was anything but what God had locked +up and frozen from all eternity. The bottom of accountability had fallen +out. My first business was to put it in again." The coldness and +indifference of the Church, which ministers usually employ the vivid +language of the Bible regarding the ways of Zion to portray, he +described in the equally vivid, but less dignified New England +vernacular. "What did I do at Litchfield but to 'boost'? They all lay on +me, and moved very little, except as myself and God moved them. I spent +sixteen of the best years of my life at a dead lift in boosting." And we +greatly fear that the reverend seigniors in Synod and Presbytery, +notwithstanding their firm faith in Total Depravity, will be sadly +scandalized at hearing it announced, "That was a scampy concern, that +Old School General Assembly, and is still."</p> + +<p>But he would make a great mistake who should infer, that, in thus busily +and energetically building up the temple, Dr. Beecher forgot the glory +of the Lord which was to dwell in it. He treated it, indeed, as a +business matter, but it was the business of immortal souls and of the +Most High God. No merely professional attachment bound him to it; there +was no contemplating it from a public and a private point of view; but +his whole inner and outer life was enlisted. Not only the religious +public, but, what is even more rare, his own family, were vitalized with +his spirit and drawn into his train. The doctrines that he preached from +the pulpit had been discussed over the woodpile in the cellar. His +public teachings had first been household words. The Epistles, death, a +preëxistent state, were talked over by the fireside. Theology took +precedence even of the baby in the family letters. One breath announces +that he could not find any trout at Guilford, and the next that he has +preached his sermon on Depravity. Catharine writes, that the house needs +paper and paint very much, father's afternoon sermon perfectly +electrified her, and his last article will make all smoke again. Harriet +records, with great inward exultation, that, on their Western journey, +father preached, and gave them the Taylorite heresy on Sin and Decrees +to the highest notch, and what was amusing, he established it from the +"Confession of Faith," and so it went high and dry above all objections, +and delighted his audience, who had never heard it christened heresy. He +sets forth to attend the Synod, accompanied by his son Henry, with one +rein in the right hand, and one in the left, and an apple in each, +biting them alternately, and alternately telling Tom how to get the +harness mended, and showing Henry the true doctrine of Original Sin. His +fatherly heart yearned over his children; with voice and pen and a +constant watchful tenderness, he knew no rest till the whole eleven had +adopted the faith for which he so earnestly contended. The genius of +Napoleon elicited almost a personal affection, and he read every memoir +from St. Helena with the earnest desire of shaping out of those last +conversations some hope for his future. He mourned for Byron as for a +friend, lamenting sorely that wasted life, and was sure, that, if Byron +"could only have talked with Taylor and me, it might have got him out of +his troubles." Indeed, he evidently considered "Taylor and me," not to +say me and Taylor, the two pillars of Orthodoxy,—in no wise from +vanity, but in the simplicity of truth. He spoke of his own feats with +an openness that could proceed only from a guileless heart. The work of +the Lord was the one thing that absorbed him, to the oblivion of all +lesser interests. He was as absolutely free from vanity on the one side +as from envy on the other. Lyman Beecher as Lyman Beecher had no +existence. Lyman Beecher as God's servant was the verity. He rejoiced in +the prosperity of the sacred cause: if it was Beecher's hand that +furthered it, he exulted; if another than Beecher's, it was all the +same. There was no room in his mind for any petty personal jealousy. He +stood in nobody's way. He enjoyed every man's success. So the building +rose, it was of small moment who wielded the hammer. Ever on the watch +for indications of the mind and will of God, it was from zeal, not +ambition, that he waited for no precedence, but pushed through the +opened door, opened it never so narrowly. In doubt as to what is the +true meaning of some "providence," he advises "to take hold of the end +of the rope that is put into your hand, and pull it till we see what is +on the other end."</p> + +<p>Yet, with all his electric enthusiasm, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634]</a></span> was wise in his generation +and beyond his generation, and in some respects beyond our own. He +watched for souls as one that must give account. He adapted means to +ends. He was careful not by fierce opposition to push doubt into error. +When a drunkard died, he remembered that "his mother was an habitual +drinker, and he was nursed on milk-punch, and the thirst was in his +constitution"; so he hoped "that God saw it was a constitutional +infirmity, like any other disease." He reduced the dogma of Total +Depravity to the simple proposition, "that men by nature do not love God +supremely, and their neighbor as themselves." He stoutly resisted the +attempt to overawe belief, either his own or another's. He refused to +expend his strength in contending with the friends of Christ, when there +was so much to be done against his foes. Yet he was as far as possible +from that narrow sectarianism, which sees no evil in its own ranks and +no good in those of its adversaries. He denounced the faults of the +Orthodox as heartily as those of the Unitarians. Standing in the +forefront of Calvinism, he did not hesitate to say, "It is my deliberate +opinion that the false philosophy which has been employed for the +exposition of the Calvinistic system has done more to obstruct the march +of Christianity, and to paralyze the saving power of the Gospel, and to +raise up and organize around the Church the unnumbered multitude to +behold and wonder and despise and perish, than all other causes +beside.... Who of us are to suffer the loss of the most wood and hay by +the process [of purging out this false philosophy] I cannot tell; but +all mine is at the Lord's service at any time; and if all which is in +New England should be brought out and laid in one pile, I think it would +make a great bonfire."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, there was something worse in the Church than false +philosophy, unless this book very grievously falsifies facts. Her +bitterest foe would hardly dare charge upon Zion such iniquity as the +friendly unbosoming in these pages reveals. Wily intrigue, reckless +perversion of language, rule or ruin, such things as we regret to see +even in a political caucus, are to be found in abundance in the counsels +of men who profess to be working only for the glory of God and the good +of souls. Insinuations of craft and cowardice are set on foot, where +direct charges fail for want of evidence. Rumor is made to do the work +which reason cannot accomplish. Private letters are surreptitiously +published, the publication defended as done with the permission of the +writer, and testimony to the contrary refused a hearing. Extracts are +taken out of their connection and made to carry a different meaning from +that which they originally bore. What cannot be put down by evidence is +to be put down by odium. There is a "cool and deliberate determination +on the part of one half the Presbyterian Church to inflict upon the +other half all the injury possible." Dr. Beecher's son, himself a +prominent clergyman, is forced to confess, that, "for a combination of +meanness and guilt and demoralising power in equal degrees of intensity, +I have never known anything to exceed the conspiracy in New England and +in the Presbyterian Church to crush by open falsehood and secret +whisperings my father and others, whom they have in vain tried to +silence by argument or to condemn in the courts of the Church." And yet, +as Dr. Beecher stands forth in this biography, in native honor clad, so, +undoubtedly, does Brother Nettleton stand forth in his biography, and +Brother Woods in his, and Brother Wilson in his, and all the brethren in +theirs,—all honorable men. We venture to say that not one of these +reverend traducers and mischief-makers was "dealt with" by his church +for his evil-doing. We make no doubt he went through life without loss +of prestige or diminution of sanctity, and was bewailed at his death by +the sons of the prophets in tenderest phrase, "My father! my father! the +chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof."</p> + +<p>We do not attribute these shameful proceedings to Orthodoxy, still less +to Christianity. "Perhaps it is a fact of our fallen nature, as Dr. +Beecher asserted, that "Adam and grace will do twice as much as grace +alone." But surely all these things happened unto them for ensamples, +and they are written for our admonition. Seeing how unlovely is the +spectacle of bickering and bitterness, let Christians of every name look +well to their steps, saying often one to another, and especially +repeating in concert, at the opening of every council, conference, +synod, and assembly,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For God hath made them so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let bears and lions growl and fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For 't is their nature, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But bretheren, we will never let<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our angry passions rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our little hands were never made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tear each other's eyes."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>This biography, as the title-page asserts, is edited rather than +written. By familiar talk and private letters, the subject is made, as +far as possible, to tell his own story. What remains is supplied by the +pens of different members of the family and of old friends. The result +is a composite, the connections of whose parts we do not always readily +discern. But what the book lacks in coherence is more than made up in +accuracy and vividness. We obtain, by glimpses of the man, a far more +exact knowledge of his character and work than we should by ever so +steady a contemplation of some other man's symmetrical rendering of his +life. We feel the beating of his great, fiery heart. We delight in his +large, loving nature. We partake in his honest indignation. We smile, +sometimes not without tears, at his childlike simplicity. We sit around +the household hearth, join in the theological disputation, and share the +naïve satisfaction of the whole Beecher family with themselves and each +other. We see how it was that the father set them all a-spinning each in +his own groove, but all bearing the unmistakable Beecher stamp. We feel +his irresistible energy, his burning zeal, his magnetic force yet +thrilling through the land and arousing every sluggish power to come to +the help of the Lord-against the mighty. For such a life there is indeed +no death.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Engineer and Artillery Operations against the Defences of +Charleston Harbor in 1863.</i> Comprising the Descent upon Morris +Island, the Demolition of Fort Sumter, the Reduction of Forts +Wagner and Gregg. With Observations on Heavy Ordnance, +Fortifications, etc. By L. A. <span class="smcap">Gillmore</span>, Major of Engineers, +Major-General of Volunteers, and Commanding General of the Land +Forces engaged. Published by Authority. New York: D. Van +Nostrand.</p></div> + +<p>Just after Major-General Hunter was removed—or, as the delicate +military phrase went, "temporarily relieved"—from the command of the +Department of the South, there was a report current in those parts of a +conversation, perhaps imaginary, between President Lincoln and the +relieved General, on his arrival at Washington. The gossip ran, that on +General Hunter's inquiring the cause of his removal, the good-natured +President could only say that "Horace Greeley said he had found a man +who could <i>do the job</i>." The job was the taking of Charleston, and the +"coming man" was Brigadier-General (now Major-General) Gillmore. The +so-called "siege of Charleston," after being the nine-days'-wonder of +two continents, dwindled to a mere daily item in the dingy newspapers of +that defiant city,—an item contemptuously sandwiched between the +meteorological record and the deaths and marriages. The "coming man" +came and went, being in his turn "temporarily relieved," and consigned +to that obscurity which is the Nemesis of major-generals. He is more +fortunate, however, than some of his compeers, in experiencing almost at +once the double resurrection of autobiography and reappointment. Whether +his new career be more or less successful than the old one, the +autobiography is at least worth printing, so far as it goes. Had an +instalment of it appeared when the siege of Charleston was at its +height, it would have been translated into a dozen European languages, +and would have been read more eagerly in London and Paris than even in +Washington. Even now it will be read with interest, and with respect to +rifled ordnance will be a permanent authority.</p> + +<p>The total impression left behind by General Gillmore, in his former +career in the Department of the South, was that of an unwearied worker +and an admirable engineer officer. Military gifts are apt to be +specific, and a specialist seldom gains reputation in the end by being +raised to those elevated posts which require a combination of faculties. +If the object of General Gillmore's original appointment was to silence +Fort Sumter and to throw shell into Charleston, he was undoubtedly the +man who could "do the job." If the aim was to take Charleston with a +small military force, or even a large one, the wisdom of the choice was +less clear. If the intent was to govern an important Department, without +reference to further conquests,—to regulate trade, organize industry, +free the slaves, educate the freedmen,—then the selection was still +more doubtful. For this sphere of action, which had seemed so important +to Mitchell and to Hunter, was foreign to Gillmore's whole habits and +temperament, and he never could galvanize himself into caring for it. +His strong point, after all, was in dealing with metal rather than with +men, white or black. And as (since the disaster at Olustee) he can +hardly be charged with any squeamish unwillingness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636]</a></span> to throw upon others +the chief responsibility of any seeming failures of his own, it is +perhaps fortunate that in this book he is able to keep chiefly upon the +ground where he is strongest.</p> + +<p>Yet, after all, the work is historical as well as scientific. And there +is in it such a mingling of great questions of philanthropy with mere +questions of grooving, and black soldiers jostle so inextricably with +black guns, that the common reader and the mere student of human nature +will find an interest in the book, as well as that intelligent lady of +our acquaintance, who, having heard of the brilliant ornithology of the +tropics, was eager to read about the hundred-pound "Parrotts" of South +Carolina.</p> + +<p>As to the guns, the contributions of this superbly illustrated volume +are of the very greatest value. Nothing in print equals it, except Mr. +Holley's recent great treatise, some of whose tables are here also +employed by permission. Here we find the most authentic statements, both +as to the work done by the large rifled guns, and as to that trick of +bursting which is their gravest weakness. But for this, the heavy +ordnance of Parrott would be a magnificent success. And when we consider +that six two-hundred pounders and seventeen one-hundred pounders were +burst during the siege of Charleston, as recorded in this volume,—that +five one-hundred pounders are said to have been burst in a single week +on Morris Island at a later period, and that Admiral Porter reports six +similar instances during the first attack on Fort Fisher,—it was +certainly worth while in the publisher of this work, with his usual +liberality, to devote a long series of admirable plates, prepared under +the direction of Captain Mordecai, to the details of these dangerous +fractures.</p> + +<p>It is generally admitted that the smaller "Parrott" guns, including the +thirty pounders, approach very near perfection. The large calibres have +precisely the same merits, as respects range, accuracy, and simplicity +of construction and manipulation. This their work against Fort Sumter +shows. But the deficiency of endurance belongs to the large guns alone; +since the smaller, after an immense amount of service, have shown no +sort of weakness. Yet, if the principle be correct, on which the latter +are strengthened, there seems no reason why the same degree of endurance +may not yet be secured for the larger. It is simply a mechanical +problem, whose solution cannot be far off.</p> + +<p>The guns have burst both longitudinally and laterally, and in quite a +variety of position and service. General Turner's suggestion, that an +important secondary cause of bursting is the presence of sand within the +bore, among the ever-blowing sand-hills of the Sea Islands, seems +justified by the fact that in the naval service the accidents have been +far less frequent,—a thing in all respects fortunate, by the way, as +such explosions on board ship involve far greater sacrifice of life than +on land. Another secondary cause is the premature explosion of shell +within the bore, a defect which should be also remediable. Indeed, the +"Parrott" shell were at first notoriously defective, often bursting too +soon or not at all, and thus losing much of their usefulness; though +this defect has now been, in a great degree, remedied. The discussion of +the whole subject in this book seems reasonable and unprejudiced, and a +letter from the maker of the guns, at the end, gives with equal candor +his side of the question.</p> + +<p>General Gillmore's narrative of his military operations is exceedingly +interesting, and generally clear and simple. The descent upon Morris +Island from Folly Island was undoubtedly one of the most skilful +achievements of the war. Under the superintendence of Brigadier-General +Vogdes, forty-seven pieces of artillery, with two hundred rounds of +ammunition for each gun, and provided with suitable parapets, +splinter-proof shelters, and magazines, were placed in position, by +night, within speaking distance of the enemy's pickets, and within view +of their observatories. And yet all this immense piece of work was done +with such profound secrecy, that, when the first shot from these +batteries fell among the enemy, it astounded them as if it had come from +the planet Jupiter. At the time, this brilliant success was merged in +the greater prospective brilliancy of the expected results. Now that the +results have failed to follow, we can perhaps do more justice to the +remarkable skill displayed in the preliminary movements.</p> + +<p>So far as this report is concerned, General Gillmore shows no +disposition to do injustice to other officers. In reprinting the daily +correspondence with Admiral Dahlgren it might have been better to omit +or explain some hasty expressions of censure,—as where a young naval +lieutenant is charged (on page 333) with defeating an important measure +by acting without orders, though the fact was, that the officer was not +under General Gillmore's orders at all, and simply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637]</a></span> followed the +instructions of his immediate commander. But in dealing with officers of +higher rank he is more discreet, and his implied criticisms on Admiral +Dahlgren are not so severe as might have been expected. They are not +nearly so sharp as those which were constantly heard, during the siege, +from the officers of the navy; and the Admiral's telegraphic note on +page 327, "My chief pilot informs me a gale is coming on, and I am +coming into the creek," was the source of very unpardonable levity on +board some of the gun-boats.</p> + +<p>In the few passages relating to the colored troops, in the main report, +the author shows evident pains in the statement, with rather +unsatisfactory results. The style suggests rather the adroitness of the +politician than the frankness of the soldier. This is the case, for +instance, in his narrative of the unsuccessful assault upon Fort Wagner, +where he uses language which would convey the impression, to nine +readers out of ten, that it was somehow a reproach to the Fifty-Fourth +Massachusetts that it was thrown into disorder, and that this disorder +checked the progress of the rest. Of course this was so,—because it led +the charge. It is not usual to say, in preparing a very brief narrative +of some railway collision, that the leading car "was thrown into a state +of great disorder, which reacted unfavorably upon, and delayed the +progress of, those which followed." Yet it is hardly less absurd to say +it of the leading battalion in a night attack on a fortress almost +impregnable. The leading car takes the brunt of the shock precisely +because it is in that position, and so does the leading regiment. How +well the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts bore the test is recognized by its +being apparently included in the final admission, that "the behavior of +the troops, under the circumstances, was unexceptionable." But a +fractional share in a line and a half of rather chilly praise is hardly +an equivalent for three lines of implied individual censure. Had +Brigadier-General Strong lived to tell the story of that night, it would +have been stated less diplomatically than by Major-General Gillmore.</p> + +<p>The report of Major Brooks on the working qualities of the colored +troops is far more discriminating and more valuable, as are the appended +statements of Captain Walker and Lieutenant Farrand. Major Brooks, as +chief of engineering, sent circulars to six different officers who had +superintended fatigue parties in the trenches, covering inquiries on +five points relating to efficiency and courage. The report may be found +at page 259 of the book, constituting Appendix XIX. (misprinted XIV.) to +the Journal of Major Brooks.</p> + +<p>The statement is probably as fair as the facts in the compiler's +possession could make it; yet it is seriously vitiated by the scantiness +of those facts. In answer to one question, for example, we are told that +"all agree that the colored troops recruited from Free States are +superior to those recruited from Slave States." But only two regiments +of the latter class appear to have come under Major Brooks's observation +at all. One of these was a perfectly raw regiment, which had never had a +day's drill when it was placed in the trenches, but which was kept +constantly at work there, although an order had been issued forbidding +white recruits from being so employed. The other was a regiment composed +chiefly of South Carolina <i>conscripts</i>, enlisted in utter disregard of +pledges previously given, and of course unwilling soldiers. It was +absurd to institute a comparison between these troops and a regiment so +well trained and officered as the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts. Longer +experience has shown that there is no great choice between the Northern +and Southern negro, as military material; and the preferences of an +officer will usually depend upon which he has been accustomed to +command. Many, certainly, are firm in the conviction that the freed +slave makes the best soldier.</p> + +<p>In other points the report carries with it some of the needful +corrections, at least for a careful reader. For instance, Major Brooks's +general summary is, that "the black is more timorous than the white, but +is in a corresponding degree more docile and obedient, hence more +completely under the control of his commander, and much more influenced +by his example." But when we read on the previous page that the white +soldiers were allowed to take their arms into the trenches, and that the +black soldiers were not, it makes the whole comparison nearly worthless. +It is notorious that the presence or absence of manhood in the bravest +soldier often seems to be determined by the mere fact that he has a gun +in his hand; and had the object been to annihilate all vestige of +military pride in the colored troops, it could not have been better +planned than by this and other distinctions maintained during a large +part of the siege of Charleston. That, while smarting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638]</a></span> under the double +deprivation both of a soldier's duty and of a soldier's pay, they should +have so behaved as to merit a report so favorable as that of Major +Brooks, is one of the greatest triumphs they have yet achieved. This +volume contains the record of what they did. The story of what they +underwent is yet to be told; for even of his two famous "orders" General +Gillmore judiciously makes no mention here.</p> + +<p>Thus mingled, in this superb work, are the points of strength and +weakness. It remains only to add that the typographical and artistic +execution is an honor to our literature, and adds to the laurels +previously won in the same department by the publisher. Where all else +is so admirable, it seems a pity to have to lament the absence of an +index. The division of the work among several different authors makes +this defect peculiarly inconvenient.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>General Todleben's History of the Defence of Sebastopol, +1854-5.</i> A Review. By <span class="smcap">William Howard Russell</span>. New York: D. Van +Nostrand.</p></div> + +<p>It does not yet appear whether our great civil war will leave behind it +materials for debate as acrimonious as that which has gathered round the +affair in the Crimea. If General Butler and Admiral Porter live and +thrive, there seems a fair chance that it may. In that case it will be +interesting to read how General Todleben, in a parallel case, +substitutes the Russian bear for the monkey in the fable, pats each +combatant on the shoulder, and presents each with a shell, while +extracting for himself the oyster.</p> + +<p>Mr. Russell's "Review" is rather a paraphrase and a condensation,—the +original work of the Russian General being too costly even for the +English market. The task of the English editor is done with his usual +spirit, and with all the more zest from an evident enjoyment of finding +Mr. Kinglake in the wrong. Between his sympathies as a Briton and his +sympathies as a literary man there is sometimes a struggle. But we +Americans can do more justice to Mr. Russell than in those days of +national innocence when we knew not Mackay and Gallenga and Sala; and it +must be admitted that the tone of the present book is manly and +impartial.</p> + +<p>Kinglake's description of the Battle of the Alma will always remain as +one of the masterpieces of literature in its way; but it is noticeable +that Todleben entirely ignores some of the historian's most dramatic +effects, and also knocks away much of his underpinning by demolishing +the reputation of General Kiriakoff, his favorite Russian witness. +Kinglake says that Eupatoria was occupied by a small body of English +troops, and tells a good story about it: Todleben declares that the +Allies occupied it with more than three thousand men and eight +field-guns. Kinglake represents Lord Raglan as forcing the French +officers, with great difficulty, to disembark the troops at a spot of +his own selection: Todleben gives to Canrobert and Martinprey the whole +credit of the final choice and of all the arrangements. And so on.</p> + +<p>On the side of the Russians, the most interesting points brought out by +Todleben are their fearful disadvantage as regarded the armament of the +infantry, (these being decimated by the rifles of the Allies long before +the Russians were near enough to use their smooth-bores,) and the +popular enthusiasm inspired by the war in Russia. "The Czar was aided by +the spontaneous contributions of his people. Great supplies were +forwarded by private individuals of all that an army could need." "From +all parts of the empire persons sent lint, bandages, etc., by post to +the army." These are phrases which bring us back to the daily experience +of our own vaster struggle.</p> + +<p>As respects the Allies, Todleben uniformly credits the French army with +more of every military quality than the English, save personal courage +alone. From the commanding general to the lowest private, every +technical detail of duty seems to have been better done by the French. +At the height of the siege, it became "a war of sorties" on the part of +the Russians, and Todleben says,—"<i>Apropos</i> of those sorties, it is +indispensable to make the remark here, that the French guarded their +trenches with much more vigilance, and defended them with incomparably +more tenacity, than the English. It frequently happened that our +volunteers approached the English trenches without being perceived, and +without even firing a single shot, and found the soldiers of the guard +sitting in the trench in the most perfect security, far from their +firelocks, which were stacked in piles. With the French, matters were +quite different. They were always on the <i>qui vive</i>, so that it rarely +happened we were able to get near them without having been remarked, and +without having to receive beforehand a sharp fire of musketry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639]</a></span></p> + +<p>This, however, as Russell remarks, was when the English army was at its +lowest condition of neglect; but that simply transfers the indictment to +another count. And it is interesting to observe, that Russell's claim +for the English army and Todleben's claim for the Russian army come at +last to about the same point, namely, that the individual soldier is in +each case tough and resolute to the last degree. But this is only the +beginning of the merits of the French array, which to individual courage +superadds all that organization can attain.</p> + +<p>As to the poor Turks, they are dismissed with much the same epitaph +which might long since have been written for our colored troops, if some +of our Department commanders had been suffered to have their way:—"As +to the Turks, the Allies despised them, and the English used them as +beasts of burden; in short, they lost three hundred men a day, till they +almost perished out, and the remains of their army were sent away."</p> + +<p>In view of the grander issues of our own pending contest, with its +vaster scale of munitions and of men, one cannot always feel the due +interest in successive pages about battles like "Little Inkermann," +where the total of Russian killed and wounded comprised twenty-five +officers and two hundred and forty-five men. But it is not numbers which +make a contest memorable. Even the mere contemplation of the Crimean War +had an appreciable influence on the military training of the American +people; and the clear narratives of Todleben, written "in his usual +elaborate engineering way, in which every word is used like a gabion," +form a good sequel to that unconscious instruction.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Vanity Fair.</i> A Novel without a Hero. By <span class="smcap">William Makepeace +Thackeray</span>. With Illustrations by the Author. New York: Harper & +Brothers. 3 vols. 12mo.</p></div> + +<p>In the novels of Thackeray, essay is so much mixed up with narrative, +and comment with characterization, that they can hardly be thoroughly +appreciated in poor editions. The temptation to skip is almost +irresistible, when wisdom can be purchased only at the expense of +eyesight. We are therefore glad to welcome the commencement of a new +edition of his writings, over whose pages the reader can linger at his +pleasure, and quietly enjoy subtilties of humor and observation which in +previous perusals he overlooked. The present volumes, published by the +Harpers, are among the most tasteful and comely products of the +Cambridge University Press. Printed in large type on tinted paper, +elegantly bound in green cloth, and with a fac-simile of the author's +autograph on the cover, every copy has the appearance of being a +presentation copy. No English edition of "Vanity Fair" is equal to this +American one in respect either to convenience of form or beauty of +mechanical execution. The illustrations are numerous, well engraved, and +embody the writer's own conceptions of his scenes and characters, and +are often deliciously humorous.</p> + +<p>"Vanity Fair," though it does not include the whole extent of +Thackeray's genius, is the most vigorous exhibition of its leading +characteristics. In freshness of feeling, elasticity of movement, and +unity of aim, it is favorably distinguished from its successors, which +too often give the impression of being composed of successive +accumulations of incidents and persons, that drift into the story on no +principle of artistic selection and combination. The style, while it has +the raciness of individual peculiarity and the careless ease of familiar +gossip, is as clear, pure, and flexible as if its sentences had been +subjected to repeated revision, and every pebble which obstructed its +lucid and limpid flow had been laboriously removed. The characterization +is almost perfect of its kind. Becky Sharp, the Marquis of Steyne, Sir +Pitt Crawley and the whole Crawley family, Amelia, the Osbornes, Major +Dobbin, not to mention others, are as well known to most cultivated +people as their most intimate acquaintances in the Vanity Fair of the +actual world. It has always seemed to us that Mr. Osborne, the father of +George, a representation of the most hateful phase of English character, +is one of the most vividly true and life-like of all the delineations in +the book, and more of a typical personage than even Becky or the Marquis +of Steyne. Thackeray's theory of characterization proceeds generally on +the assumption that the acts of men and women are directed not by +principle, but by instincts, selfish or amiable,—that toleration for +human weakness is possible only by lowering the standard of human +capacity and obligation,—and that the preliminary condition of an +accurate knowledge of human character is distrust of ideals and +repudiation of patterns. This view is narrow, and by no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640]</a></span> means covers +all the facts of history and human life, but what relative truth it has +is splendidly illustrated in "Vanity Fair." There is not a person in the +book who excites the reader's respect, and not one who fails to excite +his interest. The morbid quickness of the author's perceptions of the +selfish element, even in his few amiable characters, is a constant +source of surprise. The novel not only has no hero, but implies the +non-existence of heroism. Yet the fascination of the book is +indisputable, and it is due to a variety of causes besides its mere +exhibition of the worldly side of life. Among these, the perfect +intellectual honesty of the writer, the sad or satirical sincerity with +which he gives in his evidence against human nature, is the most +prominent. With all his lightness of manner, he is essentially a witness +under oath, and testifies only to what he is confident he knows. Perhaps +this quality, rare not only in novel-writing, but in all writing, would +not compensate for the limitation of his perceptions and the +repulsiveness of much that he perceives, were it not for the peculiar +charm of his representation. It is here that the individuality of the +man appears, and it presents a combination of sentiments and powers more +original perhaps than the matter of his works. Take from "Vanity Fair" +that special element of interest which comes from Thackeray's own +nature, and it would lose the greater portion of its fascination. It is +not so much what is done, as the way in which it is done, that surprises +and delights; and the manner is always inimitable, even when the matter +is common.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Seaside and Fireside Fairies.</i> Translated from the German of +George Blum and Louis Wahl. By A. L. <span class="smcap">Wistar</span>. Philadelphia: +Ashmead & Evans.</p></div> + +<p>These pretty fairy stories peep at us out of German-land through a +pleasant, clear translation, and they remind us how easily the +supernatural and loves to dwell in airborn castles. The beautiful +instinct of reverence common to child-life is readily taken advantage of +by writers for the young; but where in England we find in stories some +angel-mother who discovers the treachery of her governess and teaches +her own children, or a rotund uncle who tips the boys, providentially, +as it seems, in Germany the protectors of children possess no nearer +abode than the land of Fairy, and their presence is as rare as that of +the Indian "Vanishers." Perhaps, even among American children, the tales +which approximate more nearly to their experience hold the strongest +attractive power; yet, in the wide range of the commingled races of the +United States, there must be many children who long for stories of that +dear Dream-land familiar to their thoughts, and to whom these stories +would be a happy era in childhood's experience.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS" id="RECENT_AMERICAN_PUBLICATIONS"></a>RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS.</h2> + + +<p>Lectures on the Science of Language, delivered at the Royal Institution +of Great Britain, in February, March, April, and May, 1863. By Max +Müller, Fellow of All-Souls College, Oxford; Correspondent de l'Institut +de France. Second Series. With Thirty-One Illustrations. New York. C. +Scribner. 12mo. pp. 622. $3.00.</p> + +<p>Meditations on the Essence of Christianity, and on the Religious +Questions of the Day. By M. Guizot. Translated from the French, under +the Superintendence of the Author. New York. C. Scribner. 12mo. pp. 356. +$1.75.</p> + +<p>The Beautiful Widow. By Mrs. Percy B. Shelley. Philadelphia. T. B. +Peterson & Brothers. 12mo. pp. 244. $2.00.</p> + +<p>The Differential Calculus: with Unusual and Particular Analysis of its +Elementary Principles, and Copious Illustrations of its Practical +Application. By John Spare, A. M., M. D. Boston. Bradley, Dayton, & Co. +12mo. pp. xx., 244. $2.00.</p> + +<p>Vest-Pocket Lexicon. An English Dictionary of all except Familiar Words; +including the Principal Scientific and Technical Terms, and Foreign +Moneys, Weights, and Measures. By Jabez Jenkins. Philadelphia. J. B. +Lippincott & Co. 18mo. pp. 563. 62 cts.</p> + +<p>The American Conflict. A History of the Great Rebellion. By Horace +Greeley. Volume One. Hartford. O. D. Case & Co, 8vo. pp. 648. $5.00.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. +91, May, 1865, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, MAY 1865 *** + +***** This file should be named 30862-h.htm or 30862-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/8/6/30862/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by Cornell University Digital Collections.) + + +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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