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+Project Gutenberg's Life Without and Life Within, by Margaret Fuller
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Life Without and Life Within
+       or, Reviews, Narratives, Essays, and poems.
+
+Author: Margaret Fuller
+
+Release Date: March 3, 2012 [EBook #39037]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE WITHOUT AND LIFE WITHIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
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+
+
+
+LIFE WITHOUT
+AND
+LIFE WITHIN;
+OR,
+REVIEWS, NARRATIVES, ESSAYS, AND
+POEMS.
+
+BY
+MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI,
+
+AUTHOR OF "WOMAN IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY," "AT HOME AND
+ABROAD," "ART, LITERATURE, AND THE DRAMA," ETC.
+
+EDITED BY HER BROTHER,
+ARTHUR B. FULLER.
+
+BOSTON:
+ROBERTS BROTHERS.
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
+ARTHUR B. FULLER,
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts
+
+[Illustration: colophon]
+
+_Cambridge:
+Presswork by John Wilson and Son._
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+Every person, who can be said to really live at all, leads two lives
+during this period of mortal existence. The one life is outward; it is
+passed in reading the thoughts of others; in contemplating the
+struggles, the defeats, the victories, the virtues, the sins, in fine,
+all things which make the history of those who surround us; and in
+gazing upon the structures which Art has reared, or paintings which she
+hath inscribed on the canvas; or looking upon the grand temple of the
+material universe, and beholding scenes painted by a hand more skilled,
+more wondrous, in its creative power, than ever can be human hand. The
+life passed in examining what other minds have produced, or living other
+men's lives by looking at their deeds, or in any way discerning what
+addresses the bodily eye or the physical ear,--this is often wise and
+well; essential, indeed, to any inner life; but it is outward, not
+self-centred, not the product of our own individual natures.
+
+But the thought of others suggests or develops thought of our own--the
+history of other men, as it is writing itself imperishably every day
+upon their souls, or already has written itself in letters of living
+light or lines of gloomy blackness--gives rise to internal sympathy or
+abhorrence on the part of us who look on and read what is thus writing
+and written. Our own spirits are stirred within us: our passions, which
+have been sleeping lions, our affections and aspirations, before angels
+with folded wings,--these are awakened by what others are doing, and
+then we struggle with the bad or yield to it; we obey or disobey the
+good, and our internal moral life begins; the outward universe or the
+Great Spirit in our hearts speaks to our souls, leading first to inward
+dissatisfaction, then to aspiration for and attainment of holiness, and
+now the inner spiritual life, which shall transfigure all outward life,
+and throw its own light and give its own hue to all the outward
+universe, has begun. These two lives are parallel streams; often they
+mingle their waters, and each imparts its own hue and characteristic to
+the other. Sometimes the outer life is the main stream; men live only in
+other men's thoughts and deeds--look only upon the material universe,
+and retire but seldom within: the inner life is but a silver thread--a
+little rill, scarce discoverable save by the eye of God. Again, with
+many the outer life is but little; the passing scene, the din of the
+battle which humanity is ever waging, the one scarce is gazed upon or
+the other heard by those who retire much from the outward world, and
+live almost exclusively upon their own thoughts, and in an ideal realm
+of fancy, or a real one of internal conflict, which is hidden from the
+outer vision. Better is it when the stream of outward and inner life are
+both full and broad--when the glories of the material universe attract
+the gaze, the realm of literature and learning invite the willing feet
+to wander in paths where poetry has planted many flowers, philosophy
+many a sturdy oak of truth, which centuries cannot overthrow--and when,
+on the other hand, men do not forget to retire often within, and find
+their own minds kingdoms, where many a noble thought spontaneously
+grows; their own souls heavens, where, the busy world withdrawn, they
+commune much with their own aspirations, fight many a noble battle with
+whatever hinders their spiritual peace, and where they commune yet more
+with that Comforter, the Divine Spirit, and Christ, that Friend and
+Helper of all who are seeking to make the life of thought and desire, as
+well as outward word and deed, high and holy.
+
+It is not a brother's part to pass critical judgment upon a sister's
+literary attainments, or mental and spiritual gifts, nor is it needful
+in reference to Madame Ossoli. The world never has questioned her great
+learning or rich and varied culture; these have been uniformly
+acknowledged. As a keen and sagacious critic of literature, as an
+admirer of whatever was noble, an abhorrer of all low and mean, this
+she was early, and is, so far as we know, without any question regarded.
+That her judgments have always been acquiesced in is far from true; but
+the public has ever believed them alike sincere and fearless. The life
+without,--that of culture and intelligent, careful observation,--all
+know _that_ stream to have been full to overflowing.
+
+More and more, too, every year, the public are beginning to recognize
+and appreciate the richness and the beauty of her inner life. The very
+keenness of her critical acumen,--the very boldness of her rebuke of all
+she deemed petty and base--the very truthfulness of her conformity to
+her own standard--her very abhorrence of all cant and mere conformity,
+long prevented, and even yet somewhat hinder, many from adequately
+recognizing the loving spirit, the sympathetic nature, the Christian
+faith, and spiritual devoutness which made her domestic and social life,
+her action amid her own kindred and nation, and in Rome, for those not
+allied to her by birth and lineage, at once kindly, noble, and full of
+holy self-sacrifice. Yet continually the world is learning these things:
+the history of her life, as her memoirs reveal it, the testimony of so
+many witnesses here and in other lands, a more careful study and a wider
+reading of her works, are leading, perhaps rapidly enough, to a true
+appreciation of the spiritual beauty of her soul, and men see that the
+waters of her inner life form a stream at once clear and pure, deep and
+broad.
+
+In presenting to the public the last volume of Margaret Fuller's works,
+the Editor is encouraged to hope for them a candid, cordial reception.
+It has been a work of love on his part, for which he has ever felt
+inadequate, and from it for a time shrunk. But each volume has had a
+wider and more cordial welcome than its predecessor, and works received
+by the great public almost with coldness when first published, have,
+when republished, had a large and cheering circulation, and, what is far
+better, a kindly appreciation not only by the few, but even by the many.
+This is evidence enough that the progress of time has brought the public
+and my sister into closer sympathy and agreement, and a better
+understanding on its part of her true views and character.
+
+The present volume is less than any of its predecessors a republication.
+_Only one of its articles has ever appeared before in book form._ As a
+book, it is, then, essentially new, though some of its reviews and
+essays have appeared in the columns of the Tribune and Dial. A large
+portion of it has never appeared at all in print, especially its
+poetical portions. The work of collecting these essays, reviews, and
+poems has been a difficult one, much more than attended the preparation
+of the previous volumes. Unable, of course, to consult their author as
+to any of them, the revision I have given is doubtless very imperfect,
+and requires large allowance. It is even possible that among the poems
+one or more written by friends and sent her, or copied from some other
+author, may have crept in unawares; but this all possible pains have
+been taken to prevent. Such as it is, the volume is now before the
+public; it truly reveals her inner and outer life, and is doubtless the
+last of the volumes containing the writings of MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+PART I.--REVIEWS.
+
+                                                                    Page.
+
+MENZEL'S VIEW OF GOETHE                                               13
+
+GOETHE                                                                23
+
+THOMAS HOOD                                                           61
+
+LETTERS FROM A LANDSCAPE PAINTER                                      69
+
+BEETHOVEN                                                             71
+
+BROWN'S NOVELS                                                        83
+
+EDGAR A. POE                                                          87
+
+ALFIERI AND CELLINI                                                   93
+
+ITALY.--CARY'S DANTE                                                 102
+
+AMERICAN FACTS                                                       108
+
+NAPOLEON AND HIS MARSHALS                                            110
+
+PHYSICAL EDUCATION                                                   116
+
+FREDERICK DOUGLASS                                                   121
+
+PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE                                                 127
+
+UNITED STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION                                   141
+
+STORY BOOKS FOR THE HOT WEATHER                                      143
+
+SHELLEY'S POEMS                                                      149
+
+FESTUS                                                               153
+
+FRENCH NOVELISTS OF THE DAY                                          158
+
+THE NEW SCIENCE, OR THE PHILOSOPHY OF MESMERISM OR ANIMAL MAGNETISM  168
+
+DEUTSCHE SCHNELLPOST                                                 174
+
+OLIVER CROMWELL                                                      179
+
+EMERSON'S ESSAYS                                                     191
+
+CAPITAL PUNISHMENT                                                   199
+
+
+PART II.--MISCELLANEOUS.
+
+FIRST OF JANUARY                                                     207
+
+NEW YEAR'S DAY                                                       219
+
+ST. VALENTINE'S DAY                                                  226
+
+FOURTH OF JULY                                                       232
+
+FIRST OF AUGUST                                                      236
+
+THANKSGIVING                                                         243
+
+CHRISTMAS                                                            250
+
+MARIANA                                                              258
+
+SUNDAY MEDITATIONS ON VARIOUS TEXTS.--FIRST                          277
+
+"           "            "            SECOND                         280
+
+APPEAL FOR AN ASYLUM FOR DISCHARGED FEMALE CONVICTS                  283
+
+THE RICH MAN.--AN IDEAL SKETCH                                       287
+
+THE POOR MAN.--AN IDEAL SKETCH                                       297
+
+THE CELESTIAL EMPIRE                                                 304
+
+KLOPSTOCK AND META                                                   308
+
+WHAT FITS A MAN TO BE A VOTER.--A FABLE                              314
+
+DISCOVERIES                                                          319
+
+POLITENESS TOO GREAT A LUXURY TO BE GIVEN TO THE POOR                322
+
+CASSIUS M. CLAY                                                      326
+
+THE MAGNOLIA OF LAKE PONTCHARTRAIN                                   330
+
+CONSECRATION OF GRACE CHURCH                                         337
+
+LATE ASPIRATIONS                                                     344
+
+FRAGMENTARY THOUGHTS, FROM MARGARET FULLER'S JOURNAL                 348
+
+FAREWELL TO NEW YORK                                                 354
+
+
+PART III.--POEMS.
+
+FREEDOM AND TRUTH                                                    357
+
+DESCRIPTION OF A PORTION   OF THE   JOURNEY TO   TRENTON FALLS       357
+
+JOURNEY TO TRENTON FALLS                                             361
+
+SUE ROSA CRUX                                                        365
+
+THE DAHLIA, THE ROSE, AND THE HELIOTROPE                             367
+
+TO MY FRIENDS, (TRANSLATION.)                                        368
+
+STANZAS WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN                              370
+
+FLAXMAN                                                              371
+
+THOUGHTS ON SUNDAY MORNING, WHEN PREVENTED BY A SNOWSTORM
+FROM GOING TO CHURCH                                                 371
+
+TO A GOLDEN HEART WORN ROUND THE NECK                                374
+
+LINES ACCOMPANYING A BOUQUET OF WILD COLUMBINE                       375
+
+DISSATISFACTION, (TRANSLATION.)                                      377
+
+MY SEAL-RING                                                         378
+
+THE CONSOLERS, (TRANSLATION.)                                        379
+
+ABSENCE OF LOVE                                                      380
+
+MEDITATIONS                                                          381
+
+RICHTER                                                              383
+
+THE THANKFUL AND THE THANKLESS                                       384
+
+PROPHECY AND FULFILMENT                                              385
+
+VERSES GIVEN TO W. C., WITH A BLANK BOOK                             385
+
+EAGLES AND DOVES, (TRANSLATION.)                                     387
+
+TO A FRIEND, WITH HEARTSEASE                                         388
+
+ASPIRATION                                                           389
+
+THE ONE IN ALL                                                       390
+
+A GREETING                                                           393
+
+LINES TO EDITH, ON HER BIRTHDAY                                      394
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN HER BROTHER R.F.F.'S JOURNAL                        395
+
+ON A PICTURE REPRESENTING THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS                 396
+
+THE CAPTURED WILD HORSE                                              397
+
+EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OF ESSEX, (TRANSLATION.)                     400
+
+HYMN WRITTEN FOR A SUNDAY SCHOOL                                     404
+
+DESERTION, (TRANSLATION.)                                            405
+
+SONG WRITTEN FOR A MAY-DAY FESTIVAL                                  406
+
+CARADORI SINGING                                                     409
+
+LINES IN ANSWER TO STANZAS CONTAINING SEVERAL PASSAGES OF
+DISTINGUISHED BEAUTY                                                 409
+
+INFLUENCE OF THE OUTWARD                                             410
+
+TO MISS R.B.                                                         411
+
+SISTRUM                                                              413
+
+IMPERFECT THOUGHTS                                                   414
+
+SADNESS                                                              414
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM                                            416
+
+TO S.C.                                                              417
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN BOSTON ON A BEAUTIFUL AUTUMNAL DAY                  420
+
+TO E.C., WITH HERBERT'S POEMS                                        422
+
+
+
+
+Life without and Life within.
+
+PART   I.
+
+REVIEWS.
+
+
+
+
+MENZEL'S VIEW OF GOETHE.
+
+
+Menzel's view of Goethe is that of a Philistine, in the least
+opprobrious sense of the term. It is one which has long been applied in
+Germany to petty cavillers and incompetent critics. I do not wish to
+convey a sense so disrespectful in speaking of Menzel. He has a vigorous
+and brilliant mind, and a wide, though imperfect, culture. He is a man
+of talent, but talent cannot comprehend genius. He judges of Goethe as
+a Philistine, inasmuch as he does not enter into Canaan, and read the
+prophet by the light of his own law, but looks at him from without, and
+tries him by a rule beneath which he never lived. That there _was_
+something Menzel saw; what that something was _not_ he saw, but _what_
+it _was_ he could not see; none could _see_; it was something to be felt
+and known at the time of its apparition, but the clear sight of it was
+reserved to a day far enough removed from its sphere to get a commanding
+point of view. Has that day come? A little while ago it seemed so;
+certain features of Goethe's personality, certain results of his
+tendency, had become so manifest. But as the plants he planted mature,
+they shed a new seed for a yet more noble growth. A wider experience, a
+deeper insight, make rejected words come true, and bring a more refined
+perception of meaning already discerned. Like all his elder brothers of
+the elect band, the forlorn hope of humanity, he obliges us to live and
+grow, that we may walk by his side; vainly we strive to leave him behind
+in some niche of the hall of our ancestors; a few steps onward and we
+find him again, of yet serener eye and more towering mien than on his
+other pedestal. Former measurements of his size have, like the girdle
+bound by the nymphs round the infant Apollo, only served to make him
+outgrow the unworthy compass. The still rising sun, with its broader
+light, shows us it is not yet noon. In him is soon perceived a prophet
+of our own age, as well as a representative of his own; and we doubt
+whether the revolutions of the century be not required to interpret the
+quiet depths of his _Saga_.
+
+Sure it is that none has yet found Goethe's place, as sure that none
+can claim to be his peer, who has not some time, ay, and for a long
+time, been his pupil!
+
+Yet much truth has been spoken of him in detail, some by Menzel, but in
+so superficial a spirit, and with so narrow a view of its bearings, as
+to have all the effect of falsehood. Such denials of the crown can only
+fix it more firmly on the head of the "Old Heathen." To such the best
+answer may be given in the words of Bettina Brentan: "The others
+criticise thy works; I only know that they lead us on and on till we
+live in them." And thus will all criticism end in making more men and
+women read these works, and "on and on," till they forget whether the
+author be a patriot or a moralist, in the deep humanity of the thought,
+the breathing nature of the scene. While words they have accepted with
+immediate approval fade from memory, these oft-denied words of keen,
+cold truth return with ever new force and significance.
+
+Men should be true, wise, beautiful, pure, and aspiring. This man was
+true and wise, capable of all things. Because he did not in one short
+life complete his circle, can we afford to lose him out of sight? Can
+we, in a world where so few men have in any degree redeemed their
+inheritance, neglect a nature so rich and so manifestly progressive?
+
+Historically considered, Goethe needs no apology. His so-called faults
+fitted him all the better for the part he had to play. In cool
+possession of his wide-ranging genius, he taught the imagination of
+Germany, that the highest flight should be associated with the steady
+sweep and undazzled eye of the eagle. Was he too much the connoisseur,
+did he attach too great an importance to the cultivation of taste, where
+just then German literature so much needed to be refined, polished, and
+harmonized? Was he too sceptical, too much an experimentalist,--how else
+could he have formed himself to be the keenest, and, at the same time,
+most nearly universal of observers, teaching theologians, philosophers,
+and patriots that nature comprehends them all, commands them all, and
+that no one development of life must exclude the rest? Do you talk, in
+the easy cant of the day, of German obscurity, extravagance, pedantry,
+and bad taste,--and will you blame this man, whose Greek, English,
+Italian, German mind steered so clear of these rocks and shoals,
+clearing, adjusting, and calming on each side, wherever he turned his
+prow? Was he not just enough of an idealist, just enough of a realist,
+for his peculiar task? If you want a moral enthusiast, is not there
+Schiller? If piety, of purest, mystic sweetness, who but Novalis?
+Exuberant sentiment, that treasures each withered leaf in a tender
+breast, look to your Richter. Would you have men to find plausible
+meaning for the deepest enigma, or to hang up each map of literature,
+well painted and dotted on its proper roller,--there are the Schlegels.
+Men of ideas were numerous as migratory crows in autumn, and Jacobi
+wrote the heart into philosophy, as well as he could. Who could fill
+Goethe's place to Germany, and to the world, of which she is now the
+teacher? His much-reviled aristocratic turn was at that time a
+reconciling element. It is plain why he was what he was, for his country
+and his age.
+
+Whoever looks into the history of his youth, will be struck by a
+peculiar force with which all things worked together to prepare him for
+his office of artist-critic to the then chaotic world of thought in his
+country. What an unusually varied scene of childhood and of youth! What
+endless change and contrast of circumstances and influences! Father and
+mother, life and literature, world and nature,--playing into one
+another's hands, always by antagonism! Never was a child so carefully
+guarded by fate against prejudice, against undue bias, against any
+engrossing sentiment. Nature having given him power of poetical sympathy
+to know every situation, would not permit him to make himself at home in
+any. And how early what was most peculiar in his character manifested
+itself, may be seen in these anecdotes related by his mother to Bettina.
+
+Of Goethe's childhood.--"He was not willing to play with other little
+children, unless they were very fair. In a circle he began suddenly to
+weep, screaming, 'Take away the black, ugly child; I cannot bear to have
+it here.' He could not be pacified; they were obliged to take him home,
+and there the mother could hardly console him for the child's ugliness.
+He was then only three years old."
+
+"His mother was surprised, that when his brother Jacob died, who had
+been his playmate, he shed no tear, but rather seemed annoyed by the
+lamentations of those around him. But afterwards, when his mother asked
+whether he had not loved his brother, he ran into his room and brought
+from under his bed a bundle of papers, all written over, and said he had
+done all this for Jacob."
+
+Even so in later years, had he been asked if he had not loved his
+country and his fellow-men, he would not have answered by tears and
+vows, but pointed to his works.
+
+In the first anecdote is observable that love of symmetry in external
+relations which, in manhood, made him give up the woman he loved,
+because she would not have been in place among the old-fashioned
+furniture of his father's house; and dictated the course which, at the
+crisis of his life, led him to choose an outward peace rather than an
+inward joy. In the second, he displays, at the earliest age, a sense of
+his vocation as a recorder, the same which drew him afterwards to write
+his life into verse, rather than clothe it in action. His indirectness,
+his aversion to the frankness of heroic meetings, is repulsive and
+suspicious to generous and flowing natures; yet many of the more
+delicate products of the mind seem to need these sheaths, lest bird and
+insect rifle them in the bud.
+
+And if this subtlety, isolation, and distance be the dictate of nature,
+we submit, even as we are not vexed that the wild bee should hide its
+honey in some old moss-grown tree, rather than in the glass hives of our
+gardens. We believe it will repay the pains we take in seeking for it,
+by some peculiar flavor from unknown flowers. Was Goethe the wild bee?
+We see that even in his boyhood he showed himself a very Egyptian, in
+his love for disguises; forever expressing his thought in roundabout
+ways, which seem idle mummery to a mind of Spartan or Roman mould. Had
+he some simple thing to tell his friend, he read it from the newspaper,
+or wrote it into a parable. Did he make a visit, he put on the hat or
+wig of some other man, and made his bow as Schmidt or Schlosser, that
+they might stare, when he spoke as Goethe. He gives as the highest
+instance of passionate grief, that he gave up for one day watching the
+tedious ceremonies of the imperial coronation. In daily life many of
+these carefully recorded passages have an air of platitude, at which no
+wonder the Edinburgh Review laughed. Yet, on examination, they are full
+of meaning. And when we see the same propensity writing itself into
+Ganymede, Mahomet's song, the Bayadere, and Faust, telling all
+Goethe's religion in Mignon and Makana, all his wisdom in the
+Western-Eastern Divan, we respect it, accept, all but love it.
+
+This theme is for a volume, and I must quit it now. A brief summary of
+what Goethe was suffices to vindicate his existence, as an agent in
+history and a part of nature, but will not meet the objections of those
+who measure him, as they have a right to do, by the standard of ideal
+manhood.
+
+Most men, in judging another man, ask, Did he live up to our standard?
+
+But to me it seems desirable to ask rather, Did he live up to his own?
+
+So possible is it that our consciences may be more enlightened than that
+of the Gentile under consideration. And if we can find out how much was
+given him, we are told, in a pure evangelium, to judge thereby how much
+shall be required.
+
+Now, Goethe has given us both his own standard and the way to apply
+it. "To appreciate any man, learn first what object he proposed to
+himself; next, what degree of earnestness he showed with regard to
+attaining that object."
+
+And this is part of his hymn for man made in the divine image, "THE
+GODLIKE."
+
+    "Hail to the Unknown, the
+    Higher Being
+    Felt within us!
+
+                    "Unfeeling
+                As nature,
+    Still shineth the sun
+    Over good and evil;
+    And on the sinner,
+    Smile as on the best,
+    Moon and stars.
+      Fate too, &c.
+
+    "There can none but man
+    Perform the Impossible.
+    He understandeth,
+    Chooseth, and judgeth;
+    He can impart to the
+      Moment duration.
+
+    "He alone may
+    The good reward,
+    The guilty punish,
+    Mend and deliver;
+    All the wayward, anomalous
+      Bind in the useful.
+
+    "And the Immortals,
+    Them we reverence
+    As if they were men, and
+    Did, on a grand scale,
+    What the best man in little
+      Does, or fain would do.
+
+    "Let noble man
+    Be helpful and good;
+    Ever creating
+    The Right and the Useful;
+    Type of those loftier
+      Beings of whom the heart whispers."
+
+This standard is high enough. It is what every man should express in
+action, the poet in music!
+
+And this office of a judge, who is of purer eyes than to behold
+iniquity, and of a sacred oracle, to whom other men may go to ask when
+they should choose a friend, when face a foe, this great genius does not
+adequately fulfil. Too often has the priest left the shrine to go and
+gather simples by the aid of spells whose might no pure power needs.
+Glimpses are found in his works of the highest spirituality, but it is
+blue sky seen through chinks in a roof which should never have been
+builded. He has used life to excess. He is too rich for his nobleness,
+too judicious for his inspiration, too humanly wise for his divine
+mission. He might have been a priest; he is only a sage.
+
+An Epicurean sage, say the multitude. This seems to me unjust. He is
+also called a debauchee. There may be reason for such terms, but it is
+partial, and received, as they will be, by the unthinking, they are as
+false as Menzel's abuse, in the impression they convey. Did Goethe
+value the present too much? It was not for the Epicurean aim of
+pleasure, but for use. He, in this, was but an instance of reaction, in
+an age of painful doubt and restless striving as to the future. Was his
+private life stained by profligacy? That far largest portion of his
+life, which is ours, and which is expressed in his works, is an unbroken
+series of efforts to develop the higher elements of our being. I cannot
+speak to private gossip on this subject, nor even to well-authenticated
+versions of his private life. Here are sixty volumes, by himself and
+others, which contain sufficient evidence of a life of severe labor,
+steadfast forbearance, and an intellectual growth almost unparalleled.
+That he has failed of the highest fulfilment of his high vocation is
+certain, but he was neither Epicurean nor sensualist, if we consider his
+life as a whole.
+
+Yet he had failed to reach his highest development; and how was it that
+he was so content with this incompleteness, nay, the serenest of men?
+His serenity alone, in such a time of scepticism and sorrowful seeking,
+gives him a claim to all our study. See how he rides at anchor, lordly,
+rich in freight, every white sail ready to be unfurled at a moment's
+warning! And it must be a very slight survey which can confound this
+calm self-trust with selfish indifference of temperament. Indeed, he, in
+various ways, lets us see how little he was helped in this respect by
+temperament. But we need not his declaration,--the case speaks for
+itself. Of all that perpetual accomplishment, that unwearied
+constructiveness, the basis must be sunk deeper than in temperament. He
+never halts, never repines, never is puzzled, like other men; that
+tranquillity, full of life, that ceaseless but graceful motion, "without
+haste, without rest," for which we all are striving, he has attained.
+And is not his love of the noblest kind? Reverence the highest, have
+patience with the lowest. Let this day's performance of the meanest duty
+be thy religion. Are the stars too distant, pick up that pebble that
+lies at thy foot, and from it learn the all. Go out like Saul, the son
+of Kish, look earnestly after the meanest of thy father's goods, and a
+kingdom shall be brought thee. The least act of pure self-renunciation
+hallows, for the moment, all within its sphere. The philosopher may
+mislead, the devil tempt, yet innocence, though wounded and bleeding as
+it goes, must reach at last the holy city. The power of sustaining
+himself and guiding others rewards man sufficiently for the longest
+apprenticeship. Is not this lore the noblest?
+
+Yes, yes, but still I doubt. 'Tis true, he says all this in a thousand
+beautiful forms, but he does not warm, he does not inspire me. In his
+certainty is no bliss, in his hope no love, in his faith no glow. How is
+this?
+
+A friend, of a delicate penetration, observed, "His atmosphere was so
+calm, so full of light, that I hoped he would teach me his secret of
+cheerfulness. But I found, after long search, that he had no better way,
+if he wished to check emotion or clear thought, than to go to work. As
+his mother tells us, 'My son, if he had a grief, made it into a poem,
+and so got rid of it.' This mode is founded in truth, but does not
+involve the whole truth. I want the method which is indicated by the
+phrase, 'Perseverance of the saints.'"
+
+This touched the very point. Goethe attained only the perseverance of
+a man. He was true, for he knew that nothing can be false to him who is
+true, and that to genius nature has pledged her protection. Had he but
+seen a little farther, he would have given this covenant a higher
+expression, and been more deeply true to a diviner nature.
+
+In another article on Goethe, I shall give some account of that
+period, when a too determined action of the intellect limited and
+blinded him for the rest of his life; I mean only in comparison with
+what he should have been. Had it been otherwise, what would he not have
+attained, who, even thus self-enchained, rose to Ulyssean stature.
+Connected with this is the fact, of which he spoke with such sarcastic
+solemnity to Eckermann--"My works will never be popular."
+
+I wish, also, to consider the Faust, Elective Affinities, Apprenticeship
+and Pilgrimages of Wilhelm Meister, and Iphigenia, as affording
+indications of the progress of his genius here, of its wants and
+prospects in future spheres of activity. For the present I bid him
+farewell, as his friends always have done, in hope and trust of a better
+meeting.
+
+
+
+
+GOETHE.
+
+    "Nemo contra Deum nisi Deus ipse."
+
+    "Wer Grosses will muss sich zusammen raffen;
+    In der Beschrankung zeigt sich erst der Meister,
+    Und der Gesetz nur Kann uns Freikeit geben."[1]
+
+
+The first of these mottoes is that prefixed by Goethe to the last
+books of "Dichtung und Wahrheit." These books record the hour of turning
+tide in his life, the time when he was called on for a choice at the
+"Parting of the Ways." From these months, which gave the sun of his
+youth, the crisis of his manhood, date the birth of Egmont, and of Faust
+too, though the latter was not published so early. They saw the rise and
+decline of his love for Lili, apparently the truest love he ever knew.
+That he was not himself dissatisfied with the results to which the
+decisions of this era led him, we may infer from his choice of a motto,
+and from the calm beauty with which he has invested the record.
+
+The Parting of the Ways! The way he took led to court-favor, wealth,
+celebrity, and an independence of celebrity. It led to large
+performance, and a wonderful economical management of intellect. It led
+Faust, the Seeker, from the heights of his own mind to the trodden ways
+of the world. There, indeed, he did not lose sight of the mountains, but
+he never breathed their keen air again.
+
+After this period we find in him rather a wide and deep Wisdom, than the
+inspiration of Genius. His faith, that all _must_ issue well, wants the
+sweetness of piety, and the God he manifests to us is one of law or
+necessity, rather than of intelligent love. As this God makes because he
+must, so Goethe, his instrument, observes and re-creates because he
+must, observing with minutest fidelity the outward exposition of Nature;
+never blinded by a sham, or detained by a fear, he yet makes us feel
+that he wants insight to her sacred secret. The calmest of writers does
+not give us repose, because it is too difficult to find his centre.
+Those flame-like natures, which he undervalues, give us more peace and
+hope, through their restless aspirations, than he with his
+hearth-enclosed fires of steady fulfilment. For, true as it is, that God
+is every where, we must not only see him, but see him acknowledged.
+Through the consciousness of man, "shall not Nature interpret God?" We
+wander in diversity, and with each new turning of the path, long anew to
+be referred to the One.
+
+Of Goethe, as of other natures, where the intellect is too much
+developed in proportion to the moral nature, it is difficult to speak
+without seeming narrow, blind, and impertinent. For such men _see_ all
+that others _live_, and, if you feel a want of a faculty in them, it is
+hard to say they have it not, lest, next moment, they puzzle you by
+giving some indication of it. Yet they are not, nay, _know_ not; they
+only discern. The difference is that between sight and life, prescience
+and being, wisdom and love. Thus with Goethe. Naturally of a deep mind
+and shallow heart, he felt the sway of the affections enough to
+appreciate their workings in other men, but never enough to receive
+their inmost regenerating influence.
+
+How this might have been had he ever once abandoned himself entirely to
+a sentiment, it is impossible to say. But the education of his youth
+seconded, rather than balanced, his natural tendency. His father was a
+gentlemanly martinet; dull, sour, well-informed, and of great ambition
+as to externals. His influence on the son was wholly artificial. He was
+always turning his powerful mind from side to side in search of
+information, for the attainment of what are called accomplishments. The
+mother was a delightful person in her way; open, genial, playful, full
+of lively talent, but without earnestness of soul. She was one of those
+charming, but not noble persons, who take the day and the man as they
+find them, seeing the best that is there already, but never making the
+better grow in its stead. His sister, though of graver kind, was social
+and intellectual, not religious or tender. The mortifying repulse of his
+early love checked the few pale buds of faith and tenderness that his
+heart put forth. His friends were friends of the intellect merely;
+altogether, he seemed led by destiny to the place he was to fill.
+
+Pardon him, World, that he was too worldly. Do not wonder, Heart, that
+he was so heartless. Believe, Soul, that one so true, as far as he went,
+must yet be initiated into the deeper mysteries of Soul. Perhaps even
+now he sees that we must accept limitations only to transcend them; work
+in processes only to detect the organizing power which supersedes them;
+and that Sphinxes of fifty-five volumes might well be cast into the
+abyss before the single word that solves them all.
+
+Now, when I think of Goethe, I seem to see his soul, all the
+variegated plumes of knowledge, artistic form "und so weiter," burnt
+from it by the fires of divine love, wingless, motionless, unable to
+hide from itself in any subterfuge of labor, saying again and again, the
+simple words which he would never distinctly say on earth--God beyond
+Nature--Faith beyond Sight--the Seeker nobler than the _Meister_.
+
+For this mastery that Goethe prizes seems to consist rather in the
+skilful use of means than in the clear manifestation of ends. His
+Master, indeed, makes acknowledgment of a divine order, but the temporal
+uses are always uppermost in the mind of the reader. But of this, more
+at large in reference to his works.
+
+Apart from this want felt in his works, there is a littleness in his
+aspect as a character. Why waste his time in Weimar court
+entertainments? His duties as minister were not unworthy of him, though
+it would have been, perhaps, finer, if he had not spent so large a
+portion of that prime of intellectual life, from five and twenty to
+forty, upon them.
+
+But granted that the exercise these gave his faculties, the various lore
+they brought, and the good they did to the community, made them worth
+his doing,--why that perpetual dangling after the royal family? Why all
+that verse-making for the albums of serene highnesses, and those pretty
+poetical entertainments for the young princesses, and that cold setting
+himself apart from his true peers, the real sovereigns of
+Weimar--Herder, Wieland, and the others? The excuse must be found in
+circumstances of his time and temperament, which made the character of
+man of the world and man of affairs more attractive to him than the
+children of nature can conceive it to be in the eyes of one who is
+capable of being a consecrated bard.
+
+The man of genius feels that literature has become too much a craft by
+itself. No man should live by or for his pen. Writing is worthless
+except as the record of life; and no great man ever was satisfied thus
+to express all his being. His book should be only an indication of
+himself. The obelisk should point to a scene of conquest. In the present
+state of division of labor, the literary man finds himself condemned to
+be nothing else. Does he write a good book? it is not received as
+evidence of his ability to live and act, but rather the reverse. Men do
+not offer him the care of embassies, as an earlier age did to Petrarca;
+they would be surprised if he left his study to go forth to battle like
+Cervantes. We have the swordsman, and statesman, and penman, but it is
+not considered that the same mind which can rule the destiny of a poem,
+may as well that of an army or an empire.[2] Yet surely it should be so.
+The scientific man may need seclusion from the common affairs of life,
+for he has his materials before him; but the man of letters must seek
+them in life, and he who cannot act will but imperfectly appreciate
+action.
+
+The literary man is impatient at being set apart. He feels that monks
+and troubadours, though in a similar position, were brought into more
+healthy connection with man and nature, than he who is supposed to look
+at them merely to write them down. So he rebels; and Sir Walter Scott is
+prouder of being a good sheriff and farmer, than of his reputation as
+the Great Unknown. Byron piques himself on his skill in shooting and
+swimming. Sir H. Davy and Schlegel would be admired as dandies, and
+Goethe, who had received an order from a publisher "for a dozen more
+dramas in the same style as Goetz von Berlichingen," and though (in
+sadder sooth) he had already Faust in his head asking to be written out,
+thought it no degradation to become premier in the little Duchy of
+Weimar.
+
+"Straws show which way the wind blows," and a comment may be drawn from
+the popular novels, where the literary man is obliged to wash off the
+ink in a violet bath, attest his courage in the duel, and hide his
+idealism beneath the vulgar nonchalance and coxcombry of the man of
+fashion.
+
+If this tendency of his time had some influence in making Goethe find
+pleasure in tangible power and decided relations with society, there
+were other causes which worked deeper. The growth of genius in its
+relations to men around must always be attended with daily pain. The
+enchanted eye turns from the far-off star it has detected to the
+short-sighted bystander, and the seer is mocked for pretending to see
+what others cannot. The large and generalizing mind infers the whole
+from a single circumstance, and is reproved by all around for its
+presumptuous judgment. Its Ithuriel temper pierces shams, creeds,
+covenants, and chases the phantoms which others embrace, till the lovers
+of the false Florimels hurl the true knight to the ground. Little men
+are indignant that Hercules, yet an infant, declares he has strangled
+the serpent; they demand a proof; they send him out into scenes of labor
+to bring thence the voucher that his father is a god. What the ancients
+meant to express by Apollo's continual disappointment in his loves, is
+felt daily in the youth of genius. The sympathy he seeks flies his
+touch, the objects of his affection sneer at his sublime credulity, his
+self-reliance is arrogance, his far sight infatuation, and his ready
+detection of fallacy fickleness and inconsistency. Such is the youth of
+genius, before the soul has given that sign of itself which an
+unbelieving generation cannot controvert. Even then he is little
+benefited by the transformation of the mockers into worshippers. For the
+soul seeks not adorers, but peers; not blind worship, but intelligent
+sympathy. The best consolation even then is that which Goethe puts
+into the mouth of Tasso: "To me gave a God to tell what I suffer." In
+"Tasso" Goethe has described the position of the poetical mind in its
+prose relations with equal depth and fulness. We see what he felt must
+be the result of entire abandonment to the highest nature. We see why he
+valued himself on being able to understand the Alphonsos, and meet as an
+equal the Antonios of every-day life.
+
+But, you say, there is no likeness between Goethe and Tasso. Never
+believe it; such pictures are not painted from observation merely. That
+deep coloring which fills them with light and life is given by dipping
+the brush in one's own life-blood. Goethe had not from nature that
+character of self-reliance and self-control in which he so long appeared
+to the world. It was wholly acquired, and so highly valued because he
+was conscious of the opposite tendency. He was by nature as impetuous,
+though not as tender, as Tasso, and the disadvantage at which this
+constantly placed him was keenly felt by a mind made to appreciate the
+subtlest harmonies in all relations. Therefore was it that when he at
+last cast anchor, he was so reluctant again to trust himself to wave and
+breeze.
+
+I have before spoken of the antagonistic influences under which he was
+educated. He was driven from the severity of study into the world, and
+then again drawn back, many times in the course of his crowded youth.
+Both the world and the study he used with unceasing ardor, but not with
+the sweetness of a peaceful hope. Most of the traits which are
+considered to mark his character at a later period were wanting to him
+in youth. He was very social, and continually perturbed by his social
+sympathies. He was deficient both in outward self-possession and mental
+self-trust. "I was always," he says, "either _too volatile or too
+infatuated_, so that those who looked kindly on me did by no means
+always honor me with their esteem." He wrote much and with great
+freedom. The pen came naturally to his hand, but he had no confidence in
+the merit of what he wrote, and much inferior persons to Merck and
+Herder might have induced him to throw aside as worthless what it had
+given him sincere pleasure to compose. It was hard for him to isolate
+himself, to console himself, and, though his mind was always busy with
+important thoughts, they did not free him from the pressure of other
+minds. His youth was as sympathetic and impetuous as any on record.
+
+The effect of all this outward pressure on the poet is recorded in
+Werther--a production that he afterwards under-valued, and to which he
+even felt positive aversion. It was natural that this should be. In the
+calm air of the cultivated plain he attained, the remembrance of the
+miasma of sentimentality was odious to him. Yet sentimentality is but
+sentiment diseased, which to be cured must be patiently observed by the
+wise physician; so are the morbid desire and despair of Werther, the
+sickness of a soul aspiring to a purer, freer state, but mistaking the
+way.
+
+The best or the worst occasion in man's life is precisely that misused
+in Werther, when he longs for more love, more freedom, and a larger
+development of genius than the limitations of this terrene sphere
+permit. Sad is it indeed if, persisting to grasp too much at once, he
+lose all, as Werther did. He must accept limitation, must consent to do
+his work in time, must let his affections be baffled by the barriers of
+convention. Tantalus-like, he makes this world a Tartarus, or, like
+Hercules, rises in fires to heaven, according as he knows how to
+interpret his lot. But he must only use, not adopt it. The boundaries of
+the man must never be confounded with the destiny of the soul. If he
+does not decline his destiny, as Werther did, it is his honor to have
+felt its unfitness for his eternal scope. He was born for wings; he is
+held to walk in leading-strings; nothing lower than faith must make him
+resigned, and only in hope should he find content--a hope not of some
+slight improvement in his own condition or that of other men, but a hope
+justified by the divine justice, which is bound in due time to satisfy
+every want of his nature.
+
+Schiller's great command is, "Keep true to the dream of thy youth." The
+great problem is how to make the dream real, through the exercise of the
+waking will.
+
+This was not exactly the problem Goethe tried to solve. To _do_
+somewhat, became too important, as is indicated both by the second motto
+to this essay, and by his maxim, "It is not the knowledge of what _might
+be_, but what _is_, that forms us."
+
+Werther, like his early essays now republished from the Frankfort
+Journal, is characterized by a fervid eloquence of Italian glow, which
+betrays a part of his character almost lost sight of in the quiet
+transparency of his later productions, and may give us some idea of the
+mental conflicts through which he passed to manhood.
+
+The acting out the mystery into life, the calmness of survey, and the
+passionateness of feeling, above all the ironical baffling at the end,
+and want of point to a tale got up with such an eye to effect as he goes
+along, mark well the man that was to be. Even so did he demand in
+Werther; even so resolutely open the door in the first part of Faust;
+even so seem to play with himself and his contemporaries in the second
+part of Faust and Wilhelm Meister.
+
+Yet was he deeply earnest in his play, not for men, but for himself. To
+himself as a part of nature it was important to grow, to lift his head
+to the light. In nature he had all confidence; for man, as a part of
+nature, infinite hope; but in him as an individual will, seemingly, not
+much trust at the earliest age.
+
+The history of his intimacies marks his course; they were entered into
+with passionate eagerness, but always ended in an observation of the
+intellect, and he left them on his road, as the snake leaves his skin.
+The first man he met of sufficient force to command a large share of his
+attention was Herder, and the benefit of this intercourse was critical,
+not genial. Of the good Lavater he soon perceived the weakness. Merck,
+again, commanded his respect; but the force of Merck also was cold.
+
+But in the Grand Duke of Weimar he seems to have met a character strong
+enough to exercise a decisive influence upon his own. Goethe was not
+so politic and worldly that a little man could ever have become his
+Maecenas. In the Duchess Amelia and her son he found that practical
+sagacity, large knowledge of things as they are, active force, and
+genial feeling, which he had never before seen combined.
+
+The wise mind of the duchess gave the first impulse to the noble course
+of Weimar. But that her son should have availed himself of the
+foundation she laid is praise enough, in a world where there is such a
+rebound from parental influence that it generally seems that the child
+makes use of the directions given by the parent only to avoid the
+prescribed path. The duke availed himself of guidance, though with a
+perfect independence in action. The duchess had the unusual wisdom to
+know the right time for giving up the reins, and thus maintained her
+authority as far as the weight of her character was calculated to give
+it.
+
+Of her Goethe was thinking when he wrote, "The admirable woman is she,
+who, if the husband dies, can be a father to the children."
+
+The duke seems to have been one of those characters which are best known
+by the impression their personal presence makes on us, resembling an
+elemental and pervasive force, rather than wearing the features of an
+individuality. Goethe describes him as "_Daemonische_," that is, gifted
+with an instinctive, spontaneous force, which at once, without
+calculation or foresight, chooses the right means to an end. As these
+beings do not calculate, so is their influence incalculable. Their
+repose has as much influence over other beings as their action, even as
+the thunder cloud, lying black and distant in the summer sky, is not
+less imposing than when it bursts and gives forth its quick lightnings.
+Such men were Mirabeau and Swift. They had also distinct talents, but
+their influence was from a perception in the minds of men of this
+spontaneous energy in their natures. Sometimes, though rarely, we see
+such a man in an obscure position; circumstances have not led him to a
+large sphere; he may not have expressed in words a single thought worth
+recording; but by his eye and voice he rules all around him.
+
+He stands upon his feet with a firmness and calm security which make
+other men seem to halt and totter in their gait. In his deep eye is seen
+an infinite comprehension, an infinite reserve of power. No accent of
+his sonorous voice is lost on any ear within hearing; and, when he
+speaks, men hate or fear perhaps the disturbing power they feel, but
+never dream of disobeying. But hear Goethe himself.
+
+"The boy believed in nature, in the animate and inanimate the
+intelligent and unconscious, to discover somewhat which manifested
+itself only through contradiction, and therefore could not be
+comprehended by any conception, much less defined by a word. It was not
+divine, for it seemed without reason; not human, because without
+understanding; not devilish, because it worked to good; not angelic,
+because it often betrayed a petulant love of mischief. It was like
+chance, in that it proved no sequence; it suggested the thought of
+Providence, because it indicated connection. To this all our limitations
+seem penetrable; it seemed to play at will with all the elements of our
+being; it compressed time and dilated space. Only in the impossible did
+it seem to delight, and to cast the possible aside with disdain.
+
+"This existence which seemed to mingle with others, sometimes to
+separate, sometimes to unite, I called the Daemonische, after the example
+of the ancients, and others who have observed somewhat similar."--_Dichtung
+und Wahrheit._
+
+"The Daemonische is that which cannot be explained by reason or
+understanding; it lies not in my nature, but I am subject to it.
+
+"Napoleon was a being of this class, and in so high a degree that scarce
+any one is to be compared with him. Also our late grand duke was such a
+nature, full of unlimited power of action and unrest, so that his own
+dominion was too little for him, and the greatest would have been too
+little. Demoniac beings of this sort the Greeks reckoned among their
+demigods."--_Conversations with Eckermann._[3]
+
+This great force of will, this instinctive directness of action, gave
+the duke an immediate ascendency over Goethe which no other person had
+ever possessed. It was by no means mere sycophancy that made him give up
+the next ten years, the prime of his manhood, to accompanying the grand
+duke in his revels, or aiding him in his schemes of practical utility,
+or to contriving elegant amusements for the ladies of the court. It was
+a real admiration for the character of the genial man of the world and
+its environment.
+
+Whoever is turned from his natural path may, if he will, gain in
+largeness and depth what he loses in simple beauty; and so it was with
+Goethe. Faust became a wiser if not a nobler being. Werther, who must
+die because life was not wide enough and rich enough in love for him,
+ends as the Meister of the Wanderjahre, well content to be one never
+inadequate to the occasion, "help-full, comfort-full."
+
+A great change was, during these years, perceptible to his friends in
+the character of Goethe. From being always "either too volatile or
+infatuated," he retreated into a self-collected state, which seemed at
+first even icy to those around him. No longer he darted about him the
+lightnings of his genius, but sat Jove-like and calm, with the
+thunderbolts grasped in his hand, and the eagle gathered to his feet.
+His freakish wit was subdued into a calm and even cold irony; his
+multiplied relations no longer permitted him to abandon himself to any;
+the minister and courtier could not expatiate in the free regions of
+invention, and bring upon paper the signs of his higher life, without
+subjecting himself to an artificial process of isolation. Obliged to
+economy of time and means, he made of his intimates not objects of
+devout tenderness, of disinterested care, but the crammers and feeders
+of his intellect. The world was to him an arena or a studio, but not a
+temple.
+
+"Ye cannot serve God and Mammon."
+
+Had Goethe entered upon practical life from the dictate of his spirit,
+which bade him not be a mere author, but a living, loving man, that had
+all been well. But he must also be a man of the world, and nothing can
+be more unfavorable to true manhood than this ambition. The citizen, the
+hero, the general, the poet, all these are in true relations; but what
+is called being a man of the world is to truckle to it, not truly to
+serve it.
+
+Thus fettered in false relations, detained from retirement upon the
+centre of his being, yet so relieved from the early pressure of his
+great thoughts as to pity more pious souls for being restless seekers,
+no wonder that he wrote,--
+
+"Es ist dafuer gesorgt dass die Baeume nicht in den Himmel wachsen."
+
+"Care is taken that the trees grow not up into the heavens." Ay, Goethe,
+but in proportion to their force of aspiration is their height.
+
+Yet never let him be confounded with those who sell all their
+birthright. He became blind to the more generous virtues, the nobler
+impulses, but ever in self-respect was busy to develop his nature. He
+was kind, industrious, wise, gentlemanly, if not manly. If his genius
+lost sight of the highest aim, he is the best instructor in the use of
+means; ceasing to be a prophet poet, he was still a poetic artist. From
+this time forward he seems a listener to nature, but not himself the
+highest product of nature,--a priest to the soul of nature. His works
+grow out of life, but are not instinct with the peculiar life of human
+resolve, as are Shakspeare's or Dante's.
+
+Faust contains the great idea of his life, as indeed there is but one
+great poetic idea possible to man--the progress of a soul through the
+various forms of existence.
+
+All his other works, whatever their miraculous beauty of execution, are
+mere chapters to this poem, illustrative of particular points. Faust,
+had it been completed in the spirit in which it was begun, would have
+been the Divina Commedia of its age.
+
+But nothing can better show the difference of result between a stern and
+earnest life, and one of partial accommodation, than a comparison
+between the Paridiso and that of the second part of Faust. In both a
+soul, gradually educated and led back to God, is received at last not
+through merit, but grace. But O the difference between the grandly
+humble reliance of old Catholicism, and the loophole redemption of
+modern sagacity! Dante was a _man_, of vehement passions, many
+prejudices, bitter as much as sweet. His knowledge was scanty, his
+sphere of observation narrow, the objects of his active life petty,
+compared with those of Goethe. But, constantly retiring to his deepest
+self, clearsighted to the limitations of man, but no less so to the
+illimitable energy of the soul, the sharpest details in his work convey
+a largest sense, as his strongest and steadiest flights only direct the
+eye to heavens yet beyond.
+
+Yet perhaps he had not so hard a battle to wage, as this other great
+poet. The fiercest passions are not so dangerous foes to the soul as the
+cold scepticism of the understanding. The Jewish demon assailed the man
+of Uz with physical ills, the Lucifer of the middle ages tempted his
+passions; but the Mephistopheles of the eighteenth century bade the
+finite strive to compass the infinite, and the intellect attempt to
+solve all the problems of the soul.
+
+This path Faust had taken: it is that of modern necromancy. Not willing
+to grow into God by the steady worship of a life, men would enforce his
+presence by a spell; not willing to learn his existence by the slow
+processes of their own, they strive to bind it in a word, that they may
+wear it about the neck as a talisman.
+
+Faust, bent upon reaching the centre of the universe through the
+intellect alone, naturally, after a length of trial, which has prevented
+the harmonious unfolding of his nature, falls into despair. He has
+striven for one object, and that object eludes him. Returning upon
+himself, he finds large tracts of his nature lying waste and cheerless.
+He is too noble for apathy, too wise for vulgar content with the animal
+enjoyments of life. Yet the thirst he has been so many years increasing
+is not to be borne. Give me, he cries, but a drop of water to cool my
+burning tongue. Yet, in casting himself with a wild recklessness upon
+the impulses of his nature yet untried, there is a disbelief that any
+thing short of the All can satisfy the immortal spirit. His first
+attempt was noble, though mistaken, and under the saving influence of
+it, he makes the compact, whose condition cheats the fiend at last.
+
+    Kannst du mich schmeichelnd je beluegen
+    Dass ich mir selbst gefallen mag,
+    Kannst du mich mit Genuss betruegen:
+    Das sey fuer mich der letzte Tag.
+
+    Werd ich zum Augenblicke sagen:
+    Verweile doch! du bist so schoen!
+    Dann magst du mich in Fesseln schlagen,
+    Dann will ich gern zu Grunde gehen.
+
+    Canst thou by falsehood or by flattery
+    Make me one moment with myself at peace,
+    Cheat me into tranquillity? Come then
+    And welcome, life's last day.
+    Make me but to the moment say,
+    O fly not yet, thou art so fair,
+    Then let me perish, &c.
+
+But this condition is never fulfilled. Faust cannot be content with
+sensuality, with the charlatanry of ambition, nor with riches. His heart
+never becomes callous, nor his moral and intellectual perceptions
+obtuse. He is saved at last.
+
+With the progress of an individual soul is shadowed forth that of the
+soul of the age; beginning in intellectual scepticism; sinking into
+license; cheating itself with dreams of perfect bliss, to be at once
+attained by means no surer than a spurious paper currency; longing
+itself back from conflict between the spirit and the flesh, induced by
+Christianity, to the Greek era with its harmonious development of body
+and mind; striving to reembody the loved phantom of classical beauty in
+the heroism of the middle age; flying from the Byron despair of those
+who die because they cannot soar without wings, to schemes however
+narrow, of practical utility,--redeemed at last through mercy alone.
+
+The second part of Faust is full of meaning, resplendent with beauty;
+but it is rather an appendix to the first part than a fulfilment of its
+promise. The world, remembering the powerful stamp of individual
+feeling, universal indeed in its application, but individual in its
+life, which had conquered all its scruples in the first part, was vexed
+to find, instead of the man Faust, the spirit of the age,--discontented
+with the shadowy manifestation of truths it longed to embrace, and,
+above all, disappointed that the author no longer met us face to face,
+or riveted the ear by his deep tones of grief and resolve.
+
+When the world shall have got rid of the still overpowering influence of
+the first part, it will be seen that the fundamental idea is never lost
+sight of in the second. The change is that Goethe, though the same
+thinker, is no longer the same person.
+
+The continuation of Faust in the practical sense of the education of a
+man is to be found in Wilhelm Meister. Here we see the change by
+strongest contrast. The mainspring of action is no longer the
+impassioned and noble seeker, but a disciple of circumstance, whose most
+marked characteristic is a taste for virtue and knowledge. Wilhelm
+certainly prefers these conditions of existence to their opposites, but
+there is nothing so decided in his character as to prevent his turning a
+clear eye on every part of that variegated world-scene which the writer
+wished to place before us.
+
+To see all till he knows all sufficiently to put objects into their
+relations, then to concentrate his powers and use his knowledge under
+recognized conditions,--such is the progress of man from Apprentice to
+Master.
+
+'Tis pity that the volumes of the Wanderjahre have not been translated
+entire, as well as those of the Lehrjahre, for many, who have read the
+latter only, fancy that Wilhelm becomes a master in that work. Far from
+it; he has but just become conscious of the higher powers that have
+ceaselessly been weaving his fate. Far from being as yet a Master, he
+but now begins to be a Knower. In the Wanderjahre we find him gradually
+learning the duties of citizenship, and hardening into manhood, by
+applying what he has learned for himself to the education of his child.
+He converses on equal terms with the wise and beneficent; he is no
+longer duped and played with for his good, but met directly mind to
+mind.
+
+Wilhelm is a master when he can command his actions, yet keep his mind
+always open to new means of knowledge; when he has looked at various
+ways of living, various forms of religion and of character, till he has
+learned to be tolerant of all, discerning of good in all; when the
+astronomer imparts to his equal ear his highest thoughts, and the poor
+cottager seeks his aid as a patron and counsellor.
+
+To be capable of all duties, limited by none, with an open eye, a
+skilful and ready hand, an assured step, a mind deep, calm, foreseeing
+without anxiety, hopeful without the aid of illusion,--such is the ripe
+state of manhood. This attained, the great soul should still seek and
+labor, but strive and battle never more.
+
+The reason for Goethe's choosing so negative a character as Wilhelm,
+and leading him through scenes of vulgarity and low vice, would be
+obvious enough to a person of any depth of thought, even if he himself
+had not announced it. He thus obtained room to paint life as it really
+is, and bring forward those slides in the magic lantern which are always
+known to exist, though they may not be spoken of to ears polite.
+
+Wilhelm cannot abide in tradition, nor do as his fathers did before him,
+merely for the sake of money or a standing in society. The stage, here
+an emblem of the ideal life as it gleams before unpractised eyes,
+offers, he fancies, opportunity for a life of thought as distinguished
+from one of routine. Here, no longer the simple citizen, but Man, all
+Men, he will rightly take upon himself the different aspects of life,
+till poet-wise, he shall have learned them all.
+
+No doubt the attraction of the stage to young persons of a vulgar
+character is merely the brilliancy of its trappings; but to Wilhelm, as
+to Goethe, it was this poetic freedom and daily suggestion which
+seemed likely to offer such an agreeable studio in the greenroom.
+
+But the ideal must be rooted in the real, else the poet's life
+degenerates into buffoonery or vice. Wilhelm finds the characters formed
+by this would-be ideal existence more despicable than those which grew
+up on the track, dusty and bustling and dull as it had seemed, of common
+life. He is prepared by disappointment for a higher ambition.
+
+In the house of the count he finds genuine elegance, genuine sentiment,
+but not sustained by wisdom, or a devotion to important objects. This
+love, this life, is also inadequate.
+
+Now, with Teresa he sees the blessings of domestic peace. He sees a mind
+sufficient for itself, finding employment and education in the perfect
+economy of a little world. The lesson is pertinent to the state of mind
+in which his former experiences have left him, as indeed our deepest
+lore is won from reaction. But a sudden change of scene introduces him
+to the society of the sage and learned uncle, the sage and beneficent
+Natalia. Here he finds the same virtues as with Teresa, and enlightened
+by a larger wisdom.
+
+A friend of mine says that his ideal of a friend is a worthy aunt, one
+who has the tenderness without the blindness of a mother, and takes the
+same charge of the child's mind as the mother of its body. I don't know
+but this may have a foundation in truth, though, if so, auntism, like
+other grand professions, has sadly degenerated. At any rate, Goethe
+seems to be possessed with a similar feeling. The Count de Thorane, a
+man of powerful character, who made a deep impression on his childhood,
+was, he says, "reverenced by me as an uncle." And the ideal wise man of
+this common life epic stands before us as "The Uncle."
+
+After seeing the working of just views in the establishment of the
+uncle, learning piety from the Confessions of a Beautiful Soul, and
+religious beneficence from the beautiful life of Natalia, Wilhelm is
+deemed worthy of admission to the society of the Illuminati, that is,
+those who have pierced the secret of life, and know what it is to be and
+to do.
+
+Here he finds the scroll of his life "drawn with large, sharp strokes,"
+that is, these truly wise read his character for him, and "mind and
+destiny are but two names for one idea."
+
+He now knows enough to enter on the Wanderjahre.
+
+Goethe always represents the highest principle in the feminine form.
+Woman is the Minerva, man the Mars. As in the Faust, the purity of
+Gretchen, resisting the demon always, even after all her faults, is
+announced to have saved her soul to heaven; and in the second part she
+appears, not only redeemed herself, but by her innocence and forgiving
+tenderness hallowed to redeem the being who had injured her.
+
+So in the Meister, these women hover around the narrative, each
+embodying the spirit of the scene. The frail Philina, graceful though
+contemptible, represents the degradation incident to an attempt at
+leading an exclusively poetic life. Mignon, gift divine as ever the Muse
+bestowed on the passionate heart of man, with her soft, mysterious
+inspiration, her pining for perpetual youth, represents the high desire
+that leads to this mistake, as Aurelia, the desire for excitement;
+Teresa, practical wisdom, gentle tranquillity, which seem most desirable
+after the Aurelia glare. Of the beautiful soul and Natalia we have
+already spoken. The former embodies what was suggested to Goethe by
+the most spiritual person he knew in youth--Mademoiselle von
+Klettenberg, over whom, as he said, in her invalid loneliness the Holy
+Ghost brooded like a dove.
+
+Entering on the Wanderjahre, Wilhelm becomes acquainted with another
+woman, who seems the complement of all the former, and represents the
+idea which is to guide and mould him in the realization of all the past
+experience.
+
+This person, long before we see her, is announced in various ways as a
+ruling power. She is the last hope in cases of difficulty, and, though
+an invalid, and living in absolute retirement, is consulted by her
+connections and acquaintance as an unerring judge in all their affairs.
+
+All things tend towards her as a centre; she knows all, governs all, but
+never goes forth from herself.
+
+Wilhelm at last visits her. He finds her infirm in body, but equal to
+all she has to do. Charity and counsel to men who need her are her
+business, astronomy her pleasure.
+
+After a while, Wilhelm ascertains from the Astronomer, her companion,
+what he had before suspected, that she really belongs to the solar
+system, and only appears on earth to give men a feeling of the planetary
+harmony. From her youth up, says the Astronomer, till she knew me,
+though all recognized in her an unfolding of the highest moral and
+intellectual qualities, she was supposed to be sick at her times of
+clear vision. When her thoughts were not in the heavens, she returned
+and acted in obedience to them on earth; she was then said to be well.
+
+When the Astronomer had observed her long enough, he confirmed her
+inward consciousness of a separate existence and peculiar union with the
+heavenly bodies.
+
+Her picture is painted with many delicate traits, and a gradual
+preparation leads the reader to acknowledge the truth; but, even in the
+slight indication here given, who does not recognize thee, divine
+Philosophy, sure as the planetary orbits, and inexhaustible as the
+fountain of light, crowning the faithful Seeker at last with the
+privilege to possess his own soul.
+
+In all that is said of Macaria,[4] we recognize that no thought is too
+religious for the mind of Goethe. It was indeed so; you can deny him
+nothing, but only feel that his works are not instinct and glowing with
+the central fire, and, after catching a glimpse pf the highest truth,
+are forced again to find him too much afraid of losing sight of the
+limitations of nature to overflow you or himself with the creative
+spirit.
+
+While the apparition of the celestial Macaria seems to announce the
+ultimate destiny of the soul of man, the practical application of all
+Wilhelm has thus painfully acquired is not of pure Delphian strain.
+Goethe draws, as he passes, a dart from the quiver of Phoebus, but
+ends as AEsculapius or Mercury. Wilhelm, at the school of the Three
+Reverences, thinks out what can be done for man in his temporal
+relations. He learns to practise moderation, and even painful
+renunciation. The book ends, simply indicating what the course of his
+life will be, by making him perform an act of kindness, with good
+judgment and at the right moment.
+
+Surely the simple soberness of Goethe should please at least those who
+style themselves, preeminently, people of common sense.
+
+The following remarks are by the celebrated Rahel von Ense, whose
+discernment as to his works was highly prized by Goethe.
+
+
+      "_Don Quixote and Wilhelm Meister_!
+
+     "Embrace one another, Cervantes and Goethe!
+
+     "Both, using their own clear eyes, vindicated human nature. They
+     saw the champions through their errors and follies, looking down
+     into the deepest soul, seeing there the true form. _Respectable_
+     people call the Don as well as Meister a fool, wandering hither and
+     thither, transacting no business of real life, bringing nothing to
+     pass, scarce even knowing what he ought to think on any subject,
+     very unfit for the hero of a romance. Yet has our sage known how to
+     paint the good and honest mind in perpetual toil and conflict with
+     the world, as it is embodied; never sharing one moment the impure
+     confusion; always striving to find fault with and improve itself,
+     always so innocent as to see others far better than they are, and
+     generally preferring them to itself, learning from all, indulging
+     all except the manifestly base; the more you understand, the more
+     you respect and love this character. Cervantes has painted the
+     knight, Goethe the culture of the entire man,--both their own
+     time."
+
+But those who demand from him a life-long continuance of the early ardor
+of Faust, who wish to see, throughout his works, not only such manifold
+beauty and subtle wisdom, but the clear assurance of divinity, the pure
+white light of Macaria, wish that he had not so variously unfolded his
+nature, and concentred it more. They would see him slaying the serpent
+with the divine wrath of Apollo, rather than taming it to his service,
+like AEsculapius. They wish that he had never gone to Weimar, had never
+become a universal connoisseur and dilettante in science, and courtier
+as "graceful as a born nobleman," but had endured the burden of life
+with the suffering crowd, and deepened his nature in loneliness and
+privation, till Faust had conquered, rather than cheated the devil, and
+the music of heavenly faith superseded the grave and mild eloquence of
+human wisdom.
+
+The expansive genius which moved so gracefully in its self imposed
+fetters, is constantly surprising us by its content with a choice low,
+in so far as it was not the highest of which the mind was capable. The
+secret may be found in the second motto of this slight essay.
+
+"He who would do great things must quickly draw together his forces. The
+master can only show himself such through limitation, and the law alone
+can give us freedom."
+
+But there is a higher spiritual law always ready to supersede the
+temporal laws at the call of the human soul. The soul that is too
+content with usual limitations will never call forth this unusual
+manifestation.
+
+If there be a tide in the affairs of men, which must be taken at the
+right moment to lead on to fortune, it is the same with inward as with
+outward life. He who, in the crisis hour of youth, has stopped short of
+himself, is not likely to find again what he has missed in one life, for
+there are a great number of blanks to a prize in each lottery.
+
+But the pang we feel that "those who are so much are not more," seems to
+promise new spheres, new ages, new crises to enable these beings to
+complete their circle.
+
+Perhaps Goethe is even now sensible that he should not have stopped at
+Weimar as his home, but made it one station on the way to Paradise; not
+stopped at humanity, but regarded it as symbolical of the divine, and
+given to others to feel more distinctly the centre of the universe, as
+well as the harmony in its parts. It is great to be an Artist, a Master,
+greater still to be a Seeker till the Man has found all himself.
+
+What Goethe meant by self-collection was a collection of means for
+work, rather than to divine the deepest truths of being. Thus are these
+truths always indicated, never declared; and the religious hope awakened
+by his subtle discernment of the workings of nature never gratified,
+except through the intellect.
+
+He whose prayer is only work will not leave his treasure in the secret
+shrine.
+
+One is ashamed when finding any fault with one like Goethe, who is so
+great. It seems the only criticism should be to do all he omitted to do,
+and that none who cannot is entitled to say a word. Let that one speak
+who was all Goethe was not,--noble, true, virtuous, but neither wise
+nor subtle in his generation, a divine ministrant, a baffled man, ruled
+and imposed on by the pygmies whom he spurned, an heroic artist, a
+democrat to the tune of Burns:
+
+    "The rank is but the guinea's stamp;
+    The man's the gowd for a' that."
+
+Hear Beethoven speak of Goethe on an occasion which brought out the
+two characters in strong contrast.
+
+Extract from a letter of Beethoven to Bettina Brentano Toeplitz, 1812.
+
+"Kings and princes can indeed make professors and privy councillors, and
+hang upon them titles; but great men they cannot make; souls that rise
+above the mud of the world, these they must let be made by other means
+than theirs, and should therefore show them respect. When two such as I
+and Goethe come together, then must great lords observe what is
+esteemed great by one of us. Coming home yesterday we met the whole
+imperial family. We saw them coming, and Goethe left me and insisted
+on standing one side; let me say what I would, I could not make him come
+on one step. I pressed my hat upon my head, buttoned my surtout, and
+passed on through the thickest crowd. Princes and parasites made way;
+the Archduke Rudolph took off his hat; the empress greeted me first.
+Their highnesses KNOW ME. I was well amused to see the crowd pass by
+Goethe. At the side stood he, hat in hand, low bowed in reverence till
+all had gone by. Then I scolded him well; I gave no pardon, but
+reproached him with all his sins, most of all those towards you, dearest
+Bettina; we had just been talking of you."
+
+If Beethoven appears, in this scene, somewhat arrogant and bearish, yet
+how noble his extreme compared with the opposite! Goethe's friendship
+with the grand duke we respect, for Karl August was a strong man. But we
+regret to see at the command of any and all members of the ducal
+family, and their connections, who had nothing but rank to recommend
+them, his time and thoughts, of which he was so chary to private
+friends. Beethoven could not endure to teach the Archduke Rudolph, who
+had the soul duly to revere his genius, because he felt it to be
+"hofdienst," court service. He received with perfect nonchalance the
+homage of the sovereigns of Europe. Only the Empress of Russia and the
+Archduke Karl, whom he esteemed as individuals, had power to gratify him
+by their attentions. Compare with, Goethe's obsequious pleasure at
+being able gracefully to compliment such high personages, Beethoven's
+conduct with regard to the famous Heroic Symphony. This was composed at
+the suggestion of Bernadotte, while Napoleon was still in his first
+glory. He was then the hero of Beethoven's imagination, who hoped from
+him the liberation of Europe. With delight the great artist expressed in
+his eternal harmonies the progress of the Hero's soul. The symphony was
+finished, and even dedicated to Bonaparte, when the news came of his
+declaring himself Emperor of the French. The first act of the indignant
+artist was to tear off his dedication and trample it under foot; nor
+could he endure again even the mention of Napoleon until the time of his
+fall.
+
+Admit that Goethe had a natural taste for the trappings of rank and
+wealth, from which the musician was quite free, yet we cannot doubt that
+both saw through these externals to man as a nature; there can be no
+doubt on whose side was the simple greatness, the noble truth. We pardon
+thee, Goethe,--but thee, Beethoven, we revere, for thou hast
+maintained the worship of the Manly, the Permanent, the True!
+
+The clear perception which was in Goethe's better nature of the beauty
+of that steadfastness, of that singleness and simple melody of soul,
+which he too much sacrificed to become "the many-sided One," is shown
+most distinctly in his two surpassingly beautiful works, The Elective
+Affinities and Iphigenia.
+
+Not Werther, not the Nouvelle Heloise, have been assailed with such a
+storm of indignation as the first-named of these works, on the score of
+gross immorality.
+
+The reason probably is the subject; any discussion of the validity of
+the marriage vow making society tremble to its foundation; and,
+secondly, the cold manner in which it is done. All that is in the book
+would be bearable to most minds if the writer had had less the air of a
+spectator, and had larded his work here and there with ejaculations of
+horror and surprise.
+
+These declarations of sentiment on the part of the author seem to be
+required by the majority of readers, in order to an interpretation of
+his purpose, as sixthly, seventhly, and eighthly were, in an
+old-fashioned sermon, to rouse the audience to a perception of the
+method made use of by the preacher.
+
+But it has always seemed to me that those who need not such helps to
+their discriminating faculties, but read a work so thoroughly as to
+apprehend its whole scope and tendency, rather than hear what the author
+says it means, will regard the Elective Affinities as a work especially
+what is called moral in its outward effect, and religious even to piety
+in its spirit. The mental aberrations of the consorts from their
+plighted faith, though in the one case never indulged, and though in the
+other no veil of sophistry is cast over the weakness of passion, but all
+that is felt expressed with the openness of one who desires to
+legitimate what he feels, are punished by terrible griefs and a fatal
+catastrophe. Ottilia, that being of exquisite purity, with intellect and
+character so harmonized in feminine beauty, as they never before were
+found in any portrait of woman painted by the hand of man, perishes, on
+finding she has been breathed on by unhallowed passion, and led to err
+even by her ignorant wishes against what is held sacred. The only
+personage whom we do not pity is Edward, for he is the only one who
+stifles the voice of conscience.
+
+There is indeed a sadness, as of an irresistible fatality, brooding over
+the whole. It seems as if only a ray of angelic truth could have enabled
+these men to walk wisely in this twilight, at first so soft and
+alluring, then deepening into blind horror.
+
+But if no such ray came to prevent their earthly errors, it seems to
+point heavenward in the saintly sweetness of Ottilia. Her nature, too
+fair for vice, too finely wrought even for error, comes lonely, intense,
+and pale, like the evening star on the cold, wintry night. It tells of
+other worlds, where the meaning of such strange passages as this must be
+read to those faithful and pure like her, victims perishing in the green
+garlands of a spotless youth to atone for the unworthiness of others.
+
+An unspeakable pathos is felt from the minutest trait of this character,
+and deepens with every new study of it. Not even in Shakspeare have I so
+felt the organizing power of genius. Through dead words I find the least
+gestures of this person, stamping themselves on my memory, betraying to
+the heart the secret of her life, which she herself, like all these
+divine beings, knew not. I feel myself familiarized with all beings of
+her order. I see not only what she was, but what she might have been,
+and live with her in yet untrodden realms.
+
+Here is the glorious privilege of a form known only in the world of
+genius. There is on it no stain of usage or calculation to dull our
+sense of its immeasurable life. What in our daily walk, mid common faces
+and common places, fleets across us at moments from glances of the eye,
+or tones of the voice, is felt from the whole being of one of these
+children of genius.
+
+This precious gem is set in a ring complete in its enamel. I cannot hope
+to express my sense of the beauty of this book as a work of art. I
+would not attempt it if I had elsewhere met any testimony to the same.
+The perfect picture, always before the mind, of the chateau, the moss
+hut, the park, the garden, the lake, with its boat and the landing
+beneath the platan trees; the gradual manner in which both localities
+and persons grow upon us, more living than life, inasmuch as we are,
+unconsciously, kept at our best temperature by the atmosphere of genius,
+and thereby more delicate in our perceptions than amid our customary
+fogs; the gentle unfolding of the central thought, as a flower in the
+morning sun; then the conclusion, rising like a cloud, first soft and
+white, but darkening as it comes, till with a sudden wind it bursts
+above our heads; the ease with which we every where find points of view
+all different, yet all bearing on the same circle, for, though we feel
+every hour new worlds, still before our eye lie the same objects, new,
+yet the same, unchangeable, yet always changing their aspects as we
+proceed, till at last we find we ourselves have traversed the circle,
+and know all we overlooked at first,--these things are worthy of our
+highest admiration.
+
+For myself, I never felt so completely that very thing which genius
+should always make us feel--that I was in its circle, and could not get
+out till its spell was done, and its last spirit permitted to depart. I
+was not carried away, instructed, delighted more than by other works,
+but I was _there_, living there, whether as the platan tree, or the
+architect, or any other observing part of the scene. The personages live
+too intensely to let us live in them; they draw around themselves
+circles within the circle; we can only see them close, not be
+themselves.
+
+Others, it would seem, on closing the book, exclaim, "What an immoral
+book!" I well remember my own thought, "It is a work of art!" At last I
+understood that world within a world, that ripest fruit of human nature,
+which is called art. With each perusal of the book my surprise and
+delight at this wonderful fulfilment of design grew. I understood why
+Goethe was well content to be called Artist, and his works, works of
+Art, rather than revelations. At this moment, remembering what I then
+felt, I am inclined to class all my negations just written on this paper
+as stuff, and to look upon myself, for thinking them, with as much
+contempt as Mr. Carlyle, or Mrs. Austin, or Mrs. Jameson might do, to
+say nothing of the German Goetheans.
+
+Yet that they were not without foundation I feel again when I turn to
+the Iphigenia--a work beyond the possibility of negation; a work where a
+religious meaning not only pierces but enfolds the whole; a work as
+admirable in art, still higher in significance, more single in
+expression.
+
+There is an English translation (I know not how good) of Goethe's
+Iphigenia. But as it may not be generally known, I will give a sketch of
+the drama. Iphigenia, saved, at the moment of the sacrifice made by
+Agamemnon in behalf of the Greeks, by the goddess, and transferred to
+the temple at Tauris, appears alone in the consecrated grove. Many years
+have passed since she was severed from the home of such a tragic fate,
+the palace of Mycenae. Troy had fallen, Agamemnon been murdered, Orestes
+had grown up to avenge his death. All these events were unknown to the
+exiled Iphigenia. The priestess of Diana in a barbarous land, she had
+passed the years in the duties of the sanctuary, and in acts of
+beneficence. She had acquired great power over the mind of Thoas, king
+of Tauris, and used it to protect strangers, whom it had previously been
+the custom of the country to sacrifice to the goddess.
+
+She salutes us with a soliloquy, of which I give a rude translation:--
+
+    Beneath your shade, living summits
+    Of this ancient, holy, thick-leaved grove,
+    As in the silent sanctuary of the Goddess,
+    Still I walk with those same shuddering feelings,
+    As when I trod these walks for the first time.
+    My spirit cannot accustom itself to these places;
+    Many years now has kept me here concealed
+    A higher will, to which I am submissive;
+    Yet ever am I, as at first, the stranger;
+    For ah! the sea divides me from my beloved ones,
+    And on the shore whole days I stand,
+    Seeking with my soul the land of the Greeks,
+    And to my sighs brings the rushing wave only
+    Its hollow tones in answer.
+    Woe to him who, far from parents, and brothers, and sisters,
+    Drags on a lonely life. Grief consumes
+    The nearest happiness away from his lips;
+    His thoughts crowd downwards--
+    Seeking the hall of his fathers, where the Sun
+    First opened heaven to him, and kindred-born
+    In their first plays knit daily firmer and firmer
+    The bond from heart to heart--I question not the Gods,
+    Only the lot of woman is one of sorrow;
+    In the house and in the war man rules,
+    Knows how to help himself in foreign lands,
+    Possessions gladden and victory crowns him,
+    And an honorable death stands ready to end his days.
+    Within what narrow limits is bounded the luck of woman!
+    To obey a rude husband even is duty and comfort; how sad
+    When, instead, a hostile fate drives her out of her sphere!
+    So holds me Thoas, indeed a noble man, fast
+    In solemn, sacred, but slavish bonds.
+    O, with shame I confess that with secret reluctance
+    I serve thee, Goddess, thee, my deliverer.
+      My life should freely have been dedicate to thee,
+    But I have always been hoping in thee, O Diana,
+    Who didst take in thy soft arms me, the rejected daughter
+    Of the greatest king! Yes, daughter of Zeus,
+    I thought if thou gavest such anguish to him, the high hero,
+    The godlike Agamemnon;
+    Since he brought his dearest, a victim, to thy altar,
+    That, when he should return, crowned with glory, from Ilium,
+    At the same time thou would'st give to his arms his other treasures,
+    His spouse, Electra, and the princely son;
+    Me also, thou would'st restore to mine own,
+    Saving a second time me, whom from death thou didst save,
+    From this worse death,--the life of exile here.
+
+These are the words and thoughts; but how give an idea of the sweet
+simplicity of expression in the original, where every word has the grace
+and softness of a flower petal?
+
+She is interrupted by a messenger from the king, who prepares her for a
+visit from himself of a sort she has dreaded. Thoas, who has always
+loved her, now left childless by the calamities of war, can no longer
+resist his desire to reanimate by her presence his desert house. He
+begins by urging her to tell him the story of her race, which she does
+in a way that makes us feel as if that most famous tragedy had never
+before found a voice, so simple, so fresh in its naivete is the recital.
+
+Thoas urges his suit undismayed by the fate that hangs over the race of
+Tantalus.
+
+    THOAS.
+
+    Was it the same Tantalus,
+    Whom Jupiter called to his council and banquets,
+    In whose talk so deeply experienced, full of various learning,
+    The Gods delighted as in the speech of oracles?
+
+    IPHIGENIA.
+
+    It is the same, but the Gods should not
+    Converse with men, as with their equals.
+    The mortal race is much too weak
+    Not to turn giddy on unaccustomed heights.
+    He was not ignoble, neither a traitor,
+    But for a servant too great, and as a companion
+    Of the great Thunderer only a man. So was
+    His fault also that of a man, its penalty
+    Severe, and poets sing--Presumption
+    And faithlessness cast him down from the throne of Jove,
+    Into the anguish of ancient Tartarus;
+    Ah, and all his race bore their hate.
+
+    THOAS.
+
+    Bore it the blame of the ancestor, or its own?
+
+    IPHIGENIA.
+
+    Truly the vehement breast and powerful life of the Titan
+    Were the assured inheritance of son and grandchild;
+    But the Gods bound their brows with a brazen band,
+    Moderation, counsel, wisdom, and patience
+    Were hid from their wild, gloomy glance,
+    Each desire grew to fury,
+    And limitless ranged their passionate thoughts.
+
+Iphigenia refuses with gentle firmness to give to gratitude what was not
+due. Thoas leaves her in anger, and, to make her feel it, orders that
+the old, barbarous custom be renewed, and two strangers just arrived be
+immolated at Diana's altar.
+
+Iphigenia, though distressed, is not shaken by this piece of tyranny.
+She trusts her heavenly protectress will find some way for her to save
+these unfortunates without violating her truth.
+
+The strangers are Orestes and Pylades, sent thither by the oracle of
+Apollo, who bade them go to Tauris and bring back "The Sister;" thus
+shall the heaven-ordained parricide of Orestes be expiated, and the
+Furies cease to pursue him.
+
+The Sister they interpret to be Dian, Apollo's sister; but Iphigenia,
+sister to Orestes, is really meant.
+
+The next act contains scenes of most delicate workmanship, first between
+the light-hearted Pylades, full of worldly resource and ready
+tenderness, and the suffering Orestes, of far nobler, indeed heroic
+nature, but less fit for the day and more for the ages. In the first
+scene the characters of both are brought out with great skill, and the
+nature of the bond between "the butterfly and the dark flower,"
+distinctly shown in few words.
+
+The next scene is between Iphigenia and Pylades. Pylades, though he
+truly answers the questions of the priestess about the fate of Troy and
+the house of Agamemnon, does not hesitate to conceal from her who
+Orestes really is, and manufactures a tissue of useless falsehoods with
+the same readiness that the wise Ulysses showed in exercising his
+ingenuity on similar occasions.
+
+It is said, I know not how truly, that the modern Greeks are Ulyssean in
+this respect, never telling straightforward truth, when deceit will
+answer the purpose; and if they tell any truth, practising the economy
+of the King of Ithaca, in always reserving a part for their own use. The
+character which this denotes is admirably hit off with few strokes in
+Pylades, the fair side of whom Iphigenia thus paints in a later scene.
+
+    Bless, ye Gods, our Pylades,
+    And whatever he may undertake;
+    He is the arm of the youth in battle,
+    The light-giving eye of the aged man in the council.
+    For his soul is still; it preserves
+    The holy possession of Repose unexhausted,
+    And from its depths still reaches
+    Help and advice to those tossed to and fro.
+
+Iphigenia leaves him in sudden agitation, when informed of the death of
+Agamemnon. Returning, she finds in his place Orestes, whom she had not
+before seen, and draws from him by her artless questions the sequel to
+this terrible drama wrought by his hand. After he has concluded his
+narrative, in the deep tones of cold anguish, she cries,--
+
+    Immortals, you who through your bright days
+    Live in bliss, throned on clouds ever renewed,
+    Only for this have you all these years
+    Kept me separate from men, and so near yourselves,
+    Given me the child-like employment to cherish the fires on your altars,
+    That my soul might, in like pious clearness,
+    Be ever aspiring towards your abodes,
+    That only later and deeper I might feel
+    The anguish and horror that have darkened my house.
+                                      O Stranger,
+    Speak to me of the unhappy one, tell me of Orestes.
+
+           ORESTES.
+
+                  O, might I speak of his death!
+    Vehement flew up from the reeking blood
+    His Mother's Soul!
+    And called to the ancient daughters of Night,
+    Let not the parricide escape;
+    Pursue that man of crime; he is yours!
+    They obey, their hollow eyes
+    Darting about with vulture eagerness;
+    They stir themselves in their black dens,
+    From corners their companions
+    Doubt and Remorse steal out to join them.
+    Before them roll the mists of Acheron;
+    In its cloudy volumes rolls
+    The eternal contemplation of the irrevocable
+    Permitted now in their love of ruin they tread
+    The beautiful fields of a God-planted earth,
+    From which they had long been banished by an early curse,
+    Their swift feet follow the fugitive,
+    They pause never except to gather more power to dismay.
+
+           IPHIGENIA.
+
+    Unhappy man, thou art in like manner tortured,
+    And feelest truly what he, the poor fugitive, suffers!
+
+           ORESTES.
+
+    What sayest thou? what meanest by "like manner"?
+
+           IPHIGENIA.
+
+    Thee, too, the weight of a fratricide crushes to earth; the tale
+    I had from thy younger brother.
+
+           ORESTES.
+
+    I cannot suffer that thou, great soul,
+    Shouldst be deceived by a false tale;
+    A web of lies let stranger weave for stranger
+    Subtle with many thoughts, accustomed to craft,
+    Guarding his feet against a trap.
+                                  But between us
+    Be Truth;--
+    I am Orestes,--and this guilty head
+    Bent downward to the grave seeks death;
+    In any shape were he welcome.
+    Whoever thou art, I wish thou mightst be saved,
+    Thou and my friend; for myself I wish it not.
+    Thou seem'st against thy will here to remain;
+    Invent a way to fly and leave me here.
+
+Like all pure productions of genius, this may be injured by the
+slightest change, and I dare not flatter myself that the English words
+give an idea of the heroic dignity expressed in the cadence of the
+original, by the words
+
+              "Twischen uns
+    Seg Wahrheit!
+    Ich bin Orest!"
+
+where the Greek seems to fold his robe around him in the full strength
+of classic manhood, prepared for worst and best, not like a cold Stoic,
+but a hero, who can feel all, know all, and endure all. The name of two
+syllables in the German is much more forcible for the pause, than the
+three-syllable Orestes.
+
+                  "Between us
+    Be Truth,"
+
+is fine to my ear, on which our word Truth also pauses with a large
+dignity.
+
+The scenes go on more and more full of breathing beauty. The lovely joy
+of Iphigenia, the meditative softness with which the religiously
+educated mind perpetually draws the inference from the most agitating
+events, impress us more and more. At last the hour of trial comes. She
+is to keep off Thoas by a cunningly devised tale, while her brother and
+Pylades contrive their escape. Orestes has received to his heart the
+sister long lost, divinely restored, and in the embrace the curse falls
+from him, he is well, and Pylades more than happy. The ship waits to
+carry her to the palace home she is to free from a century's weight of
+pollution; and already the blue heavens of her adored Greece gleam
+before her fancy.
+
+But, O, the step before all this can be obtained;--to deceive Thoas, a
+savage and a tyrant indeed, but long her protector,--in his barbarous
+fashion, her benefactor! How can she buy life, happiness, or even the
+safety of those dear ones at such a price?
+
+                                      "Woe,
+    O Woe upon the lie! It frees not the breast,
+    Like the true-spoken word; it comforts not, but tortures
+    Him who devised it, and returns,
+    An arrow once let fly, God-repelled, back,
+    On the bosom of the Archer!"
+
+    O, must I then resign the silent hope
+    Which gave a beauty to my loneliness?
+    Must the curse dwell forever, and our race
+    Never be raised to life by a new blessing?
+    All things decay, the fairest bliss is transient,
+    The powers most full of life grow faint at last;
+    And shall a curse alone boast an incessant life?
+
+    Then have I idly hoped that here kept pure,
+    So strangely severed from my kindred's lot,
+    I was designed to come at the right moment,
+    And with pure hand and heart to expiate
+    The many sins that stain my native home.
+    To lie, to steal the sacred image!
+    Olympians, let not these vulture talons
+    Seize on the tender breast. O, save me,
+    And save your image in my soul!
+
+    Within my ears resounds the ancient lay,--
+    I had forgotten it, and would so gladly,--
+    The lay of the Parcae, which they awful sung;
+    As Tantalus fell from his golden seat
+    They suffered with the noble friend. Wrathful
+    Was their heart, and fearful was the song.
+    In our childhood the nurse was wont to sing it
+    To me, and my brother and sister. I marked it well.
+
+Then follows the sublime song of the Parcae, well known through
+translations.
+
+But Iphigenia is not a victim of fate, for she listens steadfastly to
+the god in her breast. Her lips are incapable of subterfuge. She obeys
+her own heart, tells all to the king, calls up his better nature, wins,
+hallows, and purifies all around her, till the heaven-prepared way is
+cleared by the obedient child of heaven, and the great trespass of
+Tantalus cancelled by a woman's reliance on the voice of her innocent
+soul.
+
+If it be not possible to enhance the beauty with which such ideal
+figures as the Iphigenia and the Antigone appeared to the Greek mind,
+yet Goethe has unfolded a part of the life of this being, unknown
+elsewhere in the records of literature. The character of the priestess,
+the full beauty of virgin womanhood, solitary, but tender, wise and
+innocent, sensitive and self-collected, sweet as spring, dignified as
+becomes the chosen servant of God, each gesture and word of deep and
+delicate significance,--where else is such a picture to be found?
+
+It was not the courtier, nor the man of the world, nor the connoisseur,
+nor the friend of Mephistopheles, nor Wilhelm the Master, nor Egmont the
+generous, free liver, that saw Iphigenia in the world of spirits, but
+Goethe, in his first-born glory; G[o]ethe, the poet; Goethe,
+designed to be the brightest star in a new constellation. Let us not, in
+surveying his works and life, abide with him too much in the suburbs and
+outskirts of himself. Let us enter into his higher tendency, thank him
+for such angels as Iphigenia, whose simple truth mocks at all his wise
+"Beschrankungen," and hope the hour when, girt about with many such, he
+will confess, contrary to his opinion, given in his latest days, that it
+is well worth while to live seventy years, if only to find that they are
+nothing in the sight of God.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS HOOD.
+
+
+Now almost the last light has gone out of the galaxy that made the first
+thirty years of this age so bright. And the dynasty that now reigns over
+the world of wit and poetry is poor and pale, indeed, in comparison.
+
+We are anxious to pour due libations to the departed; we need not
+economize our wine; it will not be so often needed now.
+
+Hood has closed the most fatiguing career in the world--that of a
+professed wit; and we may say with deeper feeling than of others who
+shuffle off the load of care, May he rest in peace! The fatigues of a
+conqueror, a missionary preacher, even of an active philanthropist, like
+Howard, are nothing to those of a professed wit. Bad enough is it when
+he is only a man of society, by whom every one expects to be enlivened
+and relieved; who can never talk gravely in a corner, without those
+around observing that he must have heard some bad news to be so out of
+spirits; who can never make a simple remark, while eating a peaceful
+dinner, without the table being set in a roar of laughter, as when
+Sheridan, on such an occasion, opened his lips for the first time to say
+that "he liked currant jelly." For these unhappy men there are no
+intervals of social repose, no long silences fed by the mere feeling of
+sympathy or gently entertained by observation, no warm quietude in the
+mild liveries of green or brown, for the world has made up its mind that
+motley is their only wear, and teases them to jingle their bells
+forever.
+
+But far worse is it when the professed wit is also by profession a
+writer, and finds himself obliged to coin for bread those jokes which,
+in the frolic exuberance of youth, he so easily coined for fun. We can
+conceive of no existence more cruel, so tormenting, and at the same time
+so dull. We hear that Hood was forever behindhand with his promises to
+publishers; no wonder! But when we hear that he, in consequence, lost a
+great part of the gains of his hard life, and was, as a result, harassed
+by other cares, we cannot mourn to lose him, if,
+
+    "After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;"
+
+or if, as our deeper knowledge leads us to hope, he is now engaged in a
+better life, where his fancies shall take their natural place, and
+flicker like light on the surface of a profound and full stream flowing
+betwixt rich and peaceful shores, such as, no less than the drawbacks
+upon his earthly existence, are indicated in the following
+
+SONNET.
+
+    The curse of Adam, the old curse of all,
+      Though I inherit in this feverish life
+      Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and hard strife,
+    And fruitless thought in care's eternal thrall,
+    Yet more sweet honey than of bitter gall
+      I taste through thee, my Eva, my sweet wife.
+      Then what was Man's lost Paradise? how rife
+    Of bliss, since love is with him in his fall!
+      Such as our own pure passion still might frame
+    Of this fair earth and its delightful bowers,
+      If no fell sorrow, like the serpent, came
+    To trail its venom o'er the sweetest flowers;
+    But, O! as many and such tears are ours
+      As only should be shed for guilt and shame.
+
+In Hood, as in all true wits, the smile lightens on the verge of a tear.
+True wit and humor show that exquisite sensibility to the relations of
+life, that fine perception as to slight tokens of its fearful, hopeless
+mysteries, which imply pathos to a still higher degree than mirth.
+
+Hood knew and welcomed the dower which nature gave him at his birth,
+when he wrote thus:--
+
+    All things are touched with melancholy
+      Born of the secret soul's mistrust,
+    To feel her fair ethereal wings
+      Weighed down with vile, degraded dust.
+    Even the bright extremes of joy
+      Bring on conclusions of disgust,
+    Like the sweet blossoms of the May,
+      Whose fragrance ends in must.
+    O, give her, then, her tribute just,
+      Her sighs and tears and musings holy;
+    There is no music in the life
+      That sounds with idiot laughter solely;
+    There's not a string attuned to mirth,
+      But has its chord in melancholy.
+
+Hood was true to this vow of acceptance. He vowed to accept willingly
+the pains as well as joys of life for what they could teach. Therefore,
+years expanded and enlarged his sympathies, and gave to his lightest
+jokes an obvious harmony with a great moral design, not obtrusively
+obvious, but enough so to give a sweetness and permanent complacency to
+our laughter. Indeed, what is written in his gayer mood has affected us
+more, as spontaneous productions always do, than what he has written of
+late with grave design, and which has been so much lauded by men too
+obtuse to discern a latent meaning, or to believe in a good purpose
+unless they are formally told that it exists.
+
+The later serious poems of Hood are well known; so are his jest books
+and novel. We have now in view to speak rather of a little volume of
+poems published by him, some years since, republished here, but never
+widely circulated.
+
+When a book or a person comes to us in the best possible circumstances,
+we judge--not too favorably, for all that the book or person can suggest
+is a part of its fate, and what is not seen under the most favorable
+circumstances is never quite truly seen either as to promise or
+performance--but we form a judgment above what can be the average sense
+of the world in general as to its merits, which may be esteemed, after
+time enough has elapsed, a tolerably fair estimate of performance,
+though not of promise or suggestion.
+
+We became acquainted with these poems in one of those country towns
+which would be called, abroad, the most provincial of the province. The
+inhabitants had lost the simplicity of farmers' habits, without gaining
+in its place the refinement, the variety, the enlargement of civic life.
+Their industry had received little impulse from thought; their amusement
+was gossip. All men find amusement from gossip--literary, artistic, or
+social; but the degrees in it are almost infinite. They were at the
+bottom of the scale; they scrutinized their neighbors' characters and
+affairs incessantly, impertinently, and with minds unpurified by higher
+knowledge; consequently the bitter fruits of envy and calumny abounded.
+
+In this atmosphere I was detained two months, and among people very
+uncongenial both to my tastes and notions of right. But I had a retreat
+of great beauty. The town lay on the bank of a noble river; behind it
+towered a high and rocky hill. Thither every afternoon went the lonely
+stranger, to await the fall of the sunset light on the opposite bank of
+the full and rapid stream. It fell like a smile of heavenly joy; the
+white sails on the stream glided along like angel thoughts; the town
+itself looked like a fair nest, whence virtue and happiness might soar
+with sweetest song. So looked the scene _from above_; and that hill was
+the scene of many an aspiration and many an effort to attain as high a
+point of view for the mental prospect, in the hope that little
+discrepancies, or what seemed so when on a level with them, might also,
+from above, be softened into beauty and found subservient to a noble
+design on the whole.
+
+This town boasted few books, and the accident which threw Hood's poems
+in the way of the watcher from the hill, was a very fortunate one. They
+afforded a true companionship to hours which knew no other, and,
+perhaps, have since been overrated from association with what they
+answered to or suggested.
+
+Yet there are surely passages in them which ought to be generally known
+and highly prized. And if their highest value be for a few individuals
+with whom they are especially in concord, unlike the really great poems
+which bring something to all, yet those whom they please will be very
+much pleased.
+
+Hood never became corrupted into a hack writer. This shows great
+strength under his circumstances. Dickens has fallen, and Sue is
+falling; for few men can sell themselves by inches without losing a
+cubit from their stature. But Hood resisted the danger. He never wrote
+when he had nothing to say, he stopped when he had done, and never
+hashed for a second meal old thoughts which had been drained of their
+choicest juices. His heart is truly human, tender, and brave. From the
+absurdities of human nature he argues the possibility of its perfection.
+His black is admirably contrasted with his white, but his love has no
+converse of hate. His descriptions of nature, if not accurately or
+profoundly evidencing insight, are unstudied, fond, and reverential.
+They are fine reveries about nature.
+
+He has tried his powers on themes where he had great rivals--in the
+"Plea of the Midsummer Fairies," and "Hero and Leander." The latter is
+one of the finest subjects in the world, and one, too, which can never
+wear out as long as each mind shall have its separate ideal of what a
+meeting would be between two perfect lovers, in the full bloom of
+beauty and youth, under circumstances the most exalting to passion,
+because the most trying, and with the most romantic accompaniments of
+scenery. There is room here for the finest expression of love and grief,
+for the wildest remonstrance against fate. Why are they made so lovely
+and so beloved? Why was a flower brought to such perfection, and then
+culled for no use? One of the older English writers has written an
+exquisite poem on this subject, painting a youthful pair, fitted to be
+not only a heaven but a world to one another. Hood had not power to
+paint or conceive such fulness of character; but, in a lesser style, he
+has written a fine poem. The best part of it, however, is the innocent
+cruelty and grief of the Sea Siren.
+
+"Lycus the Centaur" is also a poem once read never to be forgotten. The
+hasty trot of the versification, unfit for any other theme, on this
+betokens well the frightened horse. Its mazy and bewildered imagery,
+with its countless glancings and glimpses, expressed powerfully the
+working of the Circean spell, while the note of human sadness, a
+yearning and condemned human love, thrills through the whole and gives
+it unity.
+
+The Sonnets, "It is not death," &c., and that on Silence, are equally
+admirable. Whoever reads these poems will regard Hood as something more
+than a great wit,--as a great poet also.
+
+To express this is our present aim, and therefore we shall leave to
+others, or another time, the retrospect of his comic writings. But
+having, on the late promptings of love for the departed, looked over
+these, we have been especially amused with the "Schoolmistress Abroad,"
+which was new to us. Miss Crane, a "she Mentor, stiff as starch, formal
+as a Dutch ledge, sensitive as a daguerreotype, and so tall, thin, and
+upright, that supposing the Tree of Knowledge to have been a poplar, she
+was the very Dryad to have fitted it," was left, with a sister little
+better endowed with the pliancy and power of adaptation which the
+exigencies of this varied world-scene demand, in attendance upon a sick
+father, in a foreign inn, where she cannot make herself understood,
+because her French is not "French French, but English French," and no
+two things in nature or art can be more unlike. Now look at the position
+of the sisters.
+
+"The younger, Miss Ruth, was somewhat less disconcerted. She had by her
+position the greater share in the active duties of Lebanon House, and
+under ordinary circumstances would not have been utterly at a loss what
+to do for the comfort or relief of her parent. But in every direction in
+which her instinct and habits would have prompted her to look, the
+_materials_ she sought were deficient. There was no easy chair--no fire
+to wheel it to--no cushion to shake up--no cupboard to go to--no female
+friend to consult--no Miss Parfitt--no cook--no John to send for the
+doctor--no English--no French--nothing but that dreadful 'Gefullig,' or
+'Ja Wohl,' and the equally incomprehensible 'Gnadige Frau!'
+
+"'Der herr,' said the German coachman, 'ist sehr krank,' (the gentleman
+is very sick.)
+
+"The last word had occurred so frequently on the organ of the
+Schoolmistress, that it had acquired in her mind some important
+significance.
+
+"'Ruth, what is krank?'
+
+"'How should I know?' retorted Ruth, with an asperity apt to accompany
+intense excitement and perplexity. 'In English, it's a thing that helps
+to pull the bell. But look at papa--do help to support him--you're good
+for nothing.'
+
+"'I am, indeed,' murmured poor Miss Priscilla, with a gentle shake of
+her head, and a low, slow sigh of acquiescence. Alas! as she ran over
+the catalogue of her accomplishments, the more she remembered what she
+_could_ do for her sick parent, the more helpless and useless she
+appeared. For instance, she could have embroidered him a night-cap--or
+knitted him a silk purse--or plaited him a guard-chain--or cut him out a
+watch-paper--or ornamented his braces with bead-work--or embroidered his
+waistcoat--or worked him a pair of slippers--or openworked his pocket
+handkerchief. She could even, if such an operation would have been
+comforting or salutary, have roughcasted him with shell-work--or coated
+him with red or black seals--or encrusted him with blue alum--or stuck
+him all over with colored wafers--or festooned him.
+
+"But alas! what would it have availed her poor dear papa in the
+spasmodics, if she had even festooned him, from top to toe, with little
+rice-paper roses?"
+
+The comments of the female chorus, as the author reads aloud the sorrows
+of Miss Crane, are droll as Hood's drollest. Who can say more?
+
+So farewell, gentle, generous, inventive, genial, and most amusing
+friend. We thank thee for both tears and laughter; tears which were not
+heart-breaking, laughter which was never frivolous or unkind. In thy
+satire was no gall, in the sting of thy winged wit no venom, in the
+pathos of thy sorrow no enfeebling touch! Thou hadst faults as a writer,
+we know not whether as a man; but who cares to name or even to note
+them? Surely there is enough on the sunny side of the peach to feed us
+and make us bless the tree from which it fell.
+
+
+
+
+LETTERS FROM A LANDSCAPE PAINTER.[5]
+
+
+This is a very pleasing book, and if the "Essays of Summer Hours"
+resemble it, we are not surprised at the favor with which they have been
+received, not only in this country, but in England.
+
+The writer is, we believe, very young, and as these Essays have awakened
+in us a friendly expectation which he has time and talent to fulfil, we
+will, at this early hour, proffer our counsel on two points.
+
+First. Avoid details, so directly personal, of emotion. A young and
+generous mind, seeing the deceit and cold reserve which so often palsy
+men who write, no less than those who act, may run into the opposite
+extreme. But frankness must be tempered by delicacy, or elevated into
+the region of poetry. You may tell the world at large what you please,
+if you make it of universal importance by transporting it into the field
+of general human interest. But your private griefs, merely _as_ yours,
+belong to yourself, your nearest friends, to Heaven and to nature. There
+is a limit set by good taste, or the sense of beauty, on such subjects,
+which each, who seeks, may find for himself.
+
+Second. Be more sparing of your praise: above all, of its highest terms.
+We should have a sense of mental as well as moral honor, which, while it
+makes us feel the baseness of uttering merely hasty and ignorant
+censure, will also forbid that hasty and extravagant praise which strict
+truth will not justify. A man of honor wishes to utter no word to which
+he cannot adhere. The offices of Poet--of Hero-worship--are sacred, and
+he who has a heart to appreciate the excellent should call nothing
+excellent which falls short of being so. Leave yourself some incense
+worthy of the _best_; do not lavish it on the merely _good_. It is
+better to be too cool than extravagant in praise; and though mediocrity
+may be elated if it can draw to itself undue honors, true greatness
+shrinks from the least exaggeration of its claims. The truly great are
+too well aware how difficult is the attainment of excellence, what
+labors and sacrifices it requires, even from genius, either to flatter
+themselves as to their works, or to be otherwise than grieved at
+idolatry from others; and so, with best wishes, and a hope to meet
+again, we bid farewell to the "Landscape Painter."
+
+
+
+
+BEETHOVEN.[6]
+
+
+This book bears on its outside the title, "Life of Beethoven, by
+Moscheles." It is really only a translation of Schindler, and it seems
+quite unfair to bring Moscheles so much into the foreground, merely
+because his name is celebrated in England. He has only contributed a few
+notes and a short introduction, giving a most pleasing account of his
+own devotion to the Master. Schindler was the trusty friend of
+Beethoven, and one whom he himself elected to write his biography.
+Inadequate as it is, there is that fidelity in the collection of
+materials which makes it serviceable to our knowledge of Beethoven, and
+we wish it might be reprinted in America. Though there is little
+knowledge of music here, yet so far as any exists in company with a free
+development of mind, the music of Beethoven is _the_ music which
+delights, which awakens, which inspires, an infinite hope.
+
+This influence of these most profound, bold, original and singular
+compositions, even upon the uninitiated, above those of a simpler
+construction and more obvious charms, we have observed with great
+pleasure. For we think its cause lies deep, far beneath fancy, taste,
+fashion, or any accidental cause.
+
+It is because there is a real and steady unfolding of certain thoughts
+which pervade the civilized world. They strike their roots through to us
+beneath the broad Atlantic; and these roots shoot stems upward to the
+light wherever the soil allows them free course.
+
+Our era, which permits of freer inquiry, of bolder experiment, than ever
+before, and a firmer, broader, basis, may also, we sincerely trust, be
+depended on for nobler discovery and a grander scope of thought.
+
+Although we sympathize with the sadness of those who lament the decay of
+forms and methods round which so many associations have wound their
+tendrils, and understand the sufferings which gentle, tender natures
+undergo from the forlorn homelessness of a period of doubt, speculation,
+reconstruction in every way, yet we cannot disjoin ourselves, by one
+moment's fear or regret, from the advance corps. That body, leagued by
+an invisible tie, has received too deep an assurance that the spirit is
+not dead nor sleeping, to look back to the past, even if they must
+advance uniformly through scenes of decay and the rubbish of falling
+edifices.
+
+But how far it is from being so! How many developments, in various ways,
+of truth! How manifold the aspirations of love! In the church the
+attempt is now to reconstruct on the basis proposed by its
+founder--"Love one another;" in the philosophy of mind, if completeness
+of system is, as yet, far from being attained, yet mistakes and vain
+dogmas are set aside, and examinations conducted with intelligence and
+an enlarged discernment of what is due both to God and man. Science
+advances, in some route with colossal strides; new glimpses are daily
+gained into the arcana of natural history, and the mysteries attendant
+on the modes of growth, are laid open to our observation; while in
+chemistry, electricity, magnetism, we seem to be getting nearer to the
+law of life which governs them, and in astronomy "fathoming the
+heavens," to use the sublime expression of Herschel, daily to greater
+depths, we find ourselves admitted to a perception of the universal laws
+and causes, where harmony, permanence and perfection leave us no excuse
+for a moment of despondency, while under the guidance of a Power who has
+ordered all so well.
+
+Then, if the other arts suffer a temporary paralysis, and
+notwithstanding the many proofs of talent and genius, we consider that
+is the case with architecture, painting, and sculpture, music is not
+only thoroughly vital, but in a state of rapid development. The last
+hundred years have witnessed a succession of triumphs in this art, the
+removal of obstructions, the transcending of limits, and the opening new
+realms of thought, to an extent that makes the infinity of promise and
+hope very present with us. And take notice that the prominent means of
+excellence now are not in those ways which give form to thought already
+existent, but which open new realms to thought. Those who live most with
+the life of their age, feel that it is one not only beautiful, positive,
+full of suggestion, but vast, flowing, of infinite promise. It is
+dynamics that interest us now, and from electricity and music we borrow
+the best illustrations of what we know.
+
+Let no one doubt that these grand efforts at synthesis are capable of as
+strict analysis. Indeed, it is wonderful with what celerity and
+precision the one process follows up the other.
+
+Of this great life which has risen from the stalk and the leaf into bud,
+and will in the course of this age be in full flower, Beethoven is the
+last and greatest exponent. His music is felt, by every soul whom it
+affects, to be the explanation of the past and the prophecy of the
+future. It contains the thoughts of the time. A dynasty of great men
+preceded him, each of whom made conquests and accumulated treasures
+which prepared the way for his successor. Bach, Handel, Hadyn, Mozart,
+were corner-stones of the glorious temple. Who shall succeed Beethoven?
+A host of musicians, full of talent, even of genius, live now he is
+dead; but the greatest among them is confessed by all men to be but of
+Lilliputian size compared with this demigod. Indeed, it should be so! As
+copious draughts of soul have been given to the earth, as she can quaff
+for a century or more. Disciples and critics must follow, to gather up
+the gleanings of the golden grain.
+
+It is observable as an earnest of the great Future which opens for this
+country, that such a genius is so easily and so much appreciated here,
+by those who have not gone through the steps that prepared the way for
+him in Europe. He is felt, because he expresses, in full tones, the
+thoughts that lie at the heart of our own existence, though we have not
+found means to stammer them as yet. To those who have obtained some clew
+to all this,--and their number is daily on the increase,--this biography
+of Beethoven will be very interesting. They will here find a picture of
+the great man, as he looked and moved in actual life, though imperfectly
+painted,--as by one who saw the figure from too low a stand-point.
+
+It will require the united labors of a constellation of minds to paint
+the portrait of Beethoven. That of his face, as seen in life, prefixed
+to these volumes, is better than any we have seen. It bears tokens of
+the force, the grandeur, the grotesqueness of his genius, and at the
+same time shows the melancholy that came to him from the great
+misfortune of his life--his deafness; and the affectionateness of his
+deep heart.
+
+Moscheles thus gives a very pleasing account of his first cognizance of
+Beethoven:--
+
+"I had been placed under the guidance and tuition of Dionysius Weber,
+the founder and present director of the Prague Musical Conservatory; and
+he, fearing that in my eagerness to read new music, I might injure the
+systematic development of my piano-forte playing, prohibited the
+library, a circulating musical library, and in a plan for my musical
+education which he laid before my parents, made it an express condition
+that for three years I should study no other authors but Mozart,
+Clemente, and S. Bach. I must confess, however, that in spite of such
+prohibition, I visited the library, gaining access to it through my
+pocket money. It was about this time that I learned from some
+schoolfellows that a young composer had appeared in Vienna, who wrote
+the oddest stuff possible, such as no one could either play or
+understand--crazy music, in opposition to all rule; and that this
+composer's name was Beethoven. On repairing to the library to satisfy my
+curiosity as to this so-called eccentric genius, I found there
+Beethoven's 'Sonate Pathetique.' This was in the year 1804. My pocket
+money would not suffice for the purchase of it, so I secretly copied it.
+The novelty of its style was so attractive to me, and I became so
+enthusiastic in my admiration of it, that I forgot myself so far as to
+mention my new acquisition to my master, who reminded me of his
+injunction, and warned me not to play or study any eccentric productions
+until I had based my style upon more solid models. Without, however,
+minding his injunction, I seized upon the piano-forte works of Beethoven
+as they successively appeared, and in them found a solace and delight
+such as no other composer afforded me.
+
+"In the year 1809, my studies with my master, Weber, closed; and being
+then also fatherless, I chose Vienna for my residence, to work out my
+future musical career. Above all, I longed to see and become acquainted
+with that man who had exercised so powerful an influence over my whole
+being; whom, though I scarcely understood, I blindly worshipped. I
+learned that Beethoven was most difficult of access, and would admit no
+pupil but Ries; and for a long time my anxiety to see him remained
+ungratified. In the year 1810, however, the longed-for opportunity
+presented itself. I happened to be one morning in the music shop of
+Domenico Artaria, who had just been publishing some of my early attempts
+at composition, when a man entered with short and hasty steps, and
+gliding through the circle of ladies and professors assembled on
+business, or talking over musical matters, without looking up, as though
+he wished to pass unnoticed, made his way direct for Artaria's private
+office at the bottom of the shop. Presently Artaria called me in, and
+said, 'This is Beethoven,'--and to the composer, 'This is the youth of
+whom I have been speaking to you.' Beethoven gave me a friendly nod, and
+said he had just been hearing a favorable account of me. To some modest
+and humble expressions which I stammered forth he made no reply, and
+seemed to wish to break off the conversation. I stole away with a
+greater longing for that which I had sought, than before this meeting,
+thinking to myself, 'Am I then, indeed, such a nobody that he could not
+put one musical question to me? nor express one wish to know who had
+been my master, or whether I had any acquaintance with his works?' My
+only satisfactory mode of explaining the matter, and comforting myself
+for the omission, was in Beethoven's tendency to deafness; for I had
+seen Artaria speaking close to his ear. But I made up my mind that the
+more I was excluded from the private intercourse which I so earnestly
+coveted, the closer I would follow Beethoven in all the productions of
+his mind."
+
+If Moscheles had never seen more of Beethoven, how rejoiced he would
+have been on reading his pathetic expressions recorded in those volumes,
+as to the misconstructions he knew his fellow-men must put on conduct
+caused by his calamity, at having detected the true cause of coldness in
+his own instance, and that no mean suggestions of offended vanity made
+him false to the genius, because repelled by the man!
+
+Moscheles did see him further, and learned a great deal from this
+intercourse, though it never became intimate. He closes with these
+excellent remarks:--
+
+"My feelings with respect to Beethoven's music have undergone no
+variation, save to become warmer. In my first half score of years of
+acquaintance with his works, he was repulsive to me, as well as
+attractive. In each of them, while I felt my mind fascinated by the
+prominent idea, and my enthusiasm kindled by the flashes of his genius,
+his unlooked-for episodes, shrill dissonances, and bold modulations gave
+me an unpleasant sensation. But how soon did I become reconciled to
+them! all that had appeared hard I soon found indispensable. The
+gnome-like pleasantries, which at first appeared too distorted, the
+stormy masses of sound which I found too chaotic, I have in after times
+learned to love. But while retracting my early critical exceptions, I
+must still maintain as my creed that eccentricities like those of
+Beethoven are reconcilable with his works alone, and are dangerous
+models to other composers, many of whom have been wrecked in their
+attempts at imitation."
+
+No doubt the peculiarities of Beethoven are inimitable, though as great
+would be as welcome in a mind of equal greatness. The natural office of
+such a genius is to rouse others to a use and knowledge of their own
+faculties; never to induce imitation of its own individuality.
+
+As an instance of the justice and undoubting clearness of such a mind,
+as to its own methods, take the following anecdote from Beethoven's
+"Pupil Ries":--
+
+"All the initiated must be interested in the striking fact which
+occurred respecting one of Beethoven's last solo sonatas, (in B major,
+with the great fugue, Op. 106,) a sonata which has _forty-one pages of
+print_. Beethoven had sent it to me, to London, for sale, that it might
+appear there at the same time as in Germany. The engraving was
+completed, and I in daily expectation of the letter naming the day of
+publication. This arrived at last, but with this extraordinary request:
+'Prefix the following two notes, as a first bar, to the beginning of the
+adagio.' This adagio has from nine to ten pages of print. I own the
+thought struck me involuntarily that all might not be right with my dear
+old master, a rumor to that effect having often been spread. What! add
+two notes to a composition already worked out and out, and completed
+months ago? But my astonishment was yet to be heightened by the
+_effect_ of these two notes. Never could such be found again--so
+striking--so important; no, not even if contemplated at the very
+beginning of the composition. I would advise every true lover of the art
+to play this adagio first _without_, and then with these two notes which
+now form the first bar, and I have no doubt he will share in my
+opinion."
+
+No instance could more forcibly show how in the case of Beethoven, as in
+that of other transcendent geniuses, the cry of insanity is raised by
+vulgar minds on witnessing extraordinary manifestations of power. Such
+geniuses perceive results so remote, are alive to combinations so
+subtle, that common men cannot rise high enough to see why they think or
+do as they do, and settle the matter easily to their own satisfaction,
+crying, "He is mad"--"He hath a devil." Genius perceives the efficacy of
+slight signs of thought, and loves best the simplest symbols; coarser
+minds demand coarse work, long preparations, long explanations.
+
+But genius heeds them not, but fills the atmosphere with irresistible
+purity, till they also are pervaded by the delicate influence, which,
+too subtile for their ears and eyes, enters with the air they breathe,
+or through the pores of the skin.
+
+The life of a Beethoven is written in his works; and all that can be
+told of his life beside, is but as marginal notes on that broad page.
+Yet since we have these notes, it is pleasant to have them in harmony
+with the page. The acts and words of Beethoven are what we should
+expect,--noble, leonine, impetuous,--yet tender. His faults are the
+faults of one so great that he found few paths wide enough for his
+tread, and knew not how to moderate it. They are not faults in
+themselves, but only in relation to the men who surrounded him. Among
+his peers he would not have had faults. As it is, they hardly deserve
+the name. His acts were generally great and benignant; only in
+transports of sudden passion at what he thought base did he ever injure
+any one. If he found himself mistaken, he could not humble himself
+enough,--but far outwent, in his contrition, what was due to those whom
+he had offended. So it is apt to be with magnanimous and tender natures;
+they will humble themselves in a way that those of a coarser or colder
+make think shows weakness or want of pride. But they do so because a
+little discord and a little wrong is as painful to them as a great deal
+to others.
+
+In one of his letters to a young friend, Beethoven thus magnanimously
+confesses his errors:--
+
+"I could not converse with you and yours with that peace of mind which I
+could have desired, for the late wretched altercation was hovering
+before me, showing me my own despicable conduct. But so it was; and what
+would I not give could I obliterate from the page of my life this last
+action, so degrading to my character, and so unlike my usual
+proceedings!"
+
+It seems this action of his was not of importance in the eyes of others.
+Of the causes which acted upon him at such times he gives intimations in
+another letter.
+
+"I had been wrought into this burst of passion by many an unpleasant
+circumstance of an earlier date. I have the gift of concealing and
+restraining my irritability on many subjects; but if I happen to be
+touched at any time when I am more than usually susceptible of anger, I
+burst forth more violently than any one else. B. has doubtless most
+excellent qualities, but he thinks himself utterly without faults, and
+yet is most open to blame for those for which he censures others. He has
+a littleness of mind which I have held in contempt since my infancy."
+
+As a correspondent example of the manner in which true greatness
+apologizes for its errors, we must quote a letter, lately made public,
+from Sir Isaac Newton to Mr. Locke.
+
+     "Sir: Being of opinion that you endeavored to embroil me with
+     women, and by other means, I was so much affected with it as that,
+     when one told me you were sickly, and would not live, I answered,
+     ''Twere better if you were dead.' I desire you to forgive me this
+     uncharitableness, for I am now satisfied that what you have done is
+     just, and I beg your pardon for having had hard thoughts of you for
+     it, and for representing that you struck at the root of morality in
+     a principle you laid down in your book of ideas, and designed to
+     pursue in another book, and that I took you for a Hobbist. I beg
+     your pardon also for saying or thinking that there was a design to
+     sell me an office, or to embroil me.
+
+     "I am your most humble and unfortunate servant,
+
+      "ISAAC NEWTON."
+
+
+
+
+And this letter, observe, was quoted as proof of insanity in Newton.
+Locke, however, shows by his reply that _he_ did not think the power of
+full sincerity and elevation above self-love proved a man to be insane.
+
+At a happy period Beethoven thus unveils the generous sympathies of his
+heart.
+
+"My compositions are well paid, and I may say I have more orders than I
+can well execute; six or seven publishers, and more, being ready to take
+any of my works. I need no longer submit to being bargained with; I ask
+my terms, and am paid. You see this is an excellent thing; as, for
+instance, I see a friend in want, and my purse does not at the moment
+permit me to assist him; I have but to sit down and write, and my friend
+is no longer in need."
+
+Some additional particulars are given, in the letters collected by
+Moscheles, of the struggles of his mind during the coming on of
+deafness. This calamity, falling upon the greatest genius of his time,
+in the prime of manhood,--a calamity which threatened to destroy not
+only all enjoyment of life, but the power of using the vast treasure
+with which he had been endowed for the use of all men,--casts common
+ills so into the shade that they can scarcely be seen. Who dares
+complain, since Beethoven could resign himself, to such an ill at such a
+time as this?
+
+"This beautiful country of mine, what was my lot in it? The hope of a
+happy futurity. This might now be realized if I were freed from my
+affliction. O, freed from that, I should compass the world! I feel
+it--my youth is but beginning; have I not been hitherto but a sickly
+creature? My physical powers have for some time been materially
+increasing--those of my mind likewise. I feel myself nearer and nearer
+the mark; I feel but cannot describe it; this alone is the vital
+principle of your Beethoven. No rest for me: I know of none but in
+sleep, and I grieve at having to sacrifice to that more time than I have
+hitherto deemed necessary. Take but one half of my disease from me, and
+I will return to you a matured and accomplished man, renewing the ties
+of our friendship; for you shall see me as happy as I may be in this
+sublunary world; not as a sufferer; no, that would be more than I could
+bear; I will blunt the sword of fate; it shall not utterly destroy me.
+How beautiful it is to live a thousand lives in one! No; I am not made
+for a retired life--I feel it."
+
+He _did_ blunt the sword of fate; he _did_ live a thousand lives in one;
+but that sword had power to inflict a deep and poisoned wound; those
+thousand lives cost him the pangs of a thousand deaths. He, born for
+perpetual conquest, was condemned through life to "resignation." Let any
+man, disposed to complain of his own ills, read the "Will" of Beethoven;
+and see if he dares speak of himself above a whisper, after.
+
+The matter of interest new to us in this English book is in notes and
+appendix. Schindler's biography, whose plain and _naive_ style is fit
+for the subject, is ironed out and plaited afresh to suit the "genteel"
+English, in this translation. Elsewhere we have given in brief the
+strong lineaments and piquant anecdotes from this biography;[7] here
+there is not room: smooth and shorn as it is, we wish the translation
+might be reprinted here.
+
+We may give, at parting, two directions for the study of Beethoven's
+genius and the perusal of his biography in two sayings of his own. For
+the biography, "The limits have never yet been discovered which genius
+and industry could not transcend." For the music, "From the depths of
+the soul brought forth, she (Poesy) can only by the depths of the soul
+be received or understood."
+
+
+
+
+BROWN'S NOVELS.[8]
+
+
+We rejoice to see these reprints of Brown's novels, as we have long been
+ashamed that one who ought to be the pride of the country, and who is,
+in the higher qualities of the mind, so far in advance of our other
+novelists, should have become almost inaccessible to the public.
+
+It has been the custom to liken Brown to Godwin. But there was no
+imitation, no second hand in the matter. They were congenial natures,
+and whichever had come first might have lent an impulse to the other.
+Either mind might have been conscious of the possession of that peculiar
+vein of ore, without thinking of working it for the mint of the world,
+till the other, led by accident, or overflow of feeling, showed him how
+easy it was to put the reveries of his solitary hours into words, and
+upon paper, for the benefit of his fellow-men.
+
+    "My mind to me a kingdom is."
+
+Such a man as Brown or Godwin has a right to say that. Their mind is no
+scanty, turbid rill, rejoicing to be daily fed from a thousand others,
+or from the clouds. Its plenteous source rushes from a high mountain
+between bulwarks of stone. Its course, even and full, keeps ever green
+its banks, and affords the means of life and joy to a million gliding
+shapes, that fill its deep waters, and twinkle above its golden sands.
+
+Life and Joy! Yes, Joy! These two have been called the dark Masters,
+because they disclose the twilight recesses of the human heart. Yet the
+gravest page in the history of such men is joy, compared with the mixed,
+shallow, uncertain pleasures of vulgar minds. Joy! because they were all
+alive, and fulfilled the purposes of being. No sham, no imitation, no
+convention deformed or veiled their native lineaments, or checked the
+use of their natural force. All alive themselves, they understood that
+there is no happiness without truth, no perception of it without real
+life. Unlike most men, existence was to them not a tissue of words and
+seemings, but a substantial possession.
+
+Born Hegelians, without the pretensions of science, they sought God in
+their own consciousness, and found him. The heart, because it saw itself
+so fearfully and wonderfully made, did not disown its Maker. With the
+highest idea of the dignity, power, and beauty of which human nature is
+capable, they had courage to see by what an oblique course it proceeds,
+yet never lose faith that it would reach its destined aim. Thus their
+darkest disclosures are not hobgoblin shows, but precious revelations.
+
+Brown is great as ever human writer was in showing the self-sustaining
+force of which a lonely mind is capable. He takes one person, makes him
+brood like the bee, and extract from the common life before him all its
+sweetness, its bitterness, and its nourishment.
+
+We say makes _him_, but it increases our own interest in Brown, that, a
+prophet in this respect of a better era, he has usually placed this
+thinking, royal mind in the body of a woman. This personage, too, is
+always feminine, both in her character and circumstances, but a
+conclusive proof that the term _feminine_ is not a synonyme for _weak_.
+Constantia, Clara Wieland, have loving hearts, graceful and plastic
+natures, but they have also noble, thinking minds, full of resource,
+constancy, courage. The Marguerite of Godwin, no less, is all refinement
+and the purest tenderness; but she is also the soul of honor, capable of
+deep discernment, and of acting in conformity with the inferences she
+draws. The Man of Brown and Godwin has not eaten of the fruit of the
+tree of knowledge, and been driven to sustain himself by the sweat of
+his brow for nothing, but has learned the structure and laws of things,
+and become a being, natural, benignant, various, and desirous of
+supplying the loss of innocence by the attainment of virtue. So his
+Woman need not be quite so weak as Eve, the slave of feeling or of
+flattery; she also has learned to guide her helm amid the storm across
+the troubled waters.
+
+The horrors which mysteriously beset these persons, and against which,
+so far as outward facts go, they often strive in vain, are but a
+representation of those powers permitted to work in the same way
+throughout the affairs of this world. Their demoniacal attributes only
+represent a morbid state of the intellect, gone to excess from want of
+balance with the other powers. There is an intellectual as well as a
+physical drunkenness, and which, no less, impels to crime. Carwin, urged
+on to use his ventriloquism till the presence of such a strange agent
+wakened the seeds of fanaticism in the breast of Wieland, is in a state
+no more foreign to nature than that of the wretch executed last week,
+who felt himself drawn as by a spell to murder his victim, because he
+had thought of her money and the pleasures it might bring him, till the
+feeling possessed his brain that hurls the gamester to ruin. The victims
+of such agency are like the soldier of the Rio Grande, who, both legs
+shot off, and his life-blood rushing out with every pulse, replied
+serenely to his pitying comrades, that "he had now that for which the
+soldier enlisted." The end of the drama is not in this world, and the
+fiction which rounds off the whole to harmony and felicity before the
+curtain falls, sins against truth, and deludes the reader. The Nelsons
+of the human race are all the more exposed to the assaults of Fate, that
+they are decorated with the badges of well-earned glory. Who but feels
+as they fall in death, or rise again to a mutilated existence, that the
+end is not yet? Who, that thinks, but must feel that the recompense is,
+where Brown places it, in the accumulation of mental treasure, in the
+severe assay by fire that leaves the gold pure to be used some
+time--somewhere?
+
+Brown,--man of the brooding eye, the teeming brain, the deep and fervent
+heart,--if thy country prize thee not, and had almost lost thee out of
+sight, it is because her heart is made shallow and cold, her eye dim, by
+the pomp of circumstance, the love of gross outward gain. She cannot
+long continue thus, for it takes a great deal of soul to keep a huge
+body from disease and dissolution. As there is more soul, thou wilt be
+more sought; and many will yet sit down with thy Constantia to the meal
+and water on which she sustained her full and thoughtful existence, who
+could not endure the ennui of aldermanic dinners, or find any relish in
+the imitation of French cookery. To-day many will read the words, and
+some have a cup large enough to receive the spirit, before it is lost in
+the sand on which their feet are planted.
+
+Brown's high standard of the delights of intellectual communion and of
+friendship, correspond with the fondest hopes of early days. But in the
+relations of real life, at present, there is rarely more than one of the
+parties ready for such intercourse as he describes. On the one side
+there will be dryness, want of perception, or variety, a stupidity
+unable to appreciate life's richest boon when offered to its grasp; and
+the finer nature is doomed to retrace its steps, unhappy as those who,
+having force to raise a spirit, cannot retain or make it substantial,
+and stretch out their arms only to bring them back empty to the breast.
+
+We were glad to see these reprints, but sorry to see them so carelessly
+done. Under the cheap system, the carelessness in printing and
+translating grows to a greater excess day by day. Please, Public, to
+remonstrate; else very soon all your books will be offered for two
+shillings apiece, and none of them in a fit state to be read.
+
+
+
+
+EDGAR A. POE.[9]
+
+
+Mr. Poe throws down the gauntlet in his preface by what he says of "the
+paltry compensations, or more paltry commendations, of mankind." Some
+champion might be expected to start up from the "somewhat sizable" class
+embraced, or, more properly speaking, boxed on the ear, by this
+defiance, who might try whether the sting of Criticism was as
+indifferent to this knight of the pen as he professes its honey to be.
+
+Were there such a champion, gifted with acumen to dissect, and a
+swift-glancing wit to enliven the operation, he could find no more
+legitimate subject, no fairer game, than Mr. Poe, who has wielded the
+weapons of criticism without relenting, whether with the dagger he rent
+and tore the garment in which some favored Joseph had pranked himself,
+secure of honor in the sight of all men, or whether with uplifted
+tomahawk he rushed upon the new-born children of some hapless genius,
+who had fancied, and persuaded his friends to fancy, that they were
+beautiful, and worthy a long and honored life. A large band of these
+offended dignitaries and aggrieved parents must be on the watch for a
+volume of "Poems by Edgar A. Poe," ready to cut, rend, and slash in
+turn, and hoping to see his own Raven left alone to prey upon the
+slaughter of which it is the herald.
+
+Such joust and tournament we look to see, and, indeed, have some stake
+in the matter, so far as we have friends whose wrongs cry aloud for the
+avenger. Natheless we could not take part in the _melee_, except to
+join the crowd of lookers-on in the cry "heaven speed the right!"
+
+Early we read that fable of Apollo who rewarded the critic, who had
+painfully winnowed the wheat,--with the chaff for his pains. We joined
+the gentle Affirmative School, and have confidence that if we indulge
+ourselves chiefly with the appreciation of good qualities, Time will
+take care of the faults. For Time holds a strainer like that used in the
+diamond mines--have but patience and the water and gravel will all pass
+through, and only the precious stones be left. Yet we are not blind to
+the uses of severe criticism, and of just censure, especially in a time
+and place so degraded by venal and indiscriminate praise as the present.
+That unholy alliance; that shameless sham, whose motto is,
+
+      "Caw me
+    And I'll caw thee;"
+
+that system of mutual adulation and organized puff which was carried to
+such perfection in the time, and may be seen drawn to the life in the
+correspondence, of Miss Hannah More, is fully represented in our day and
+generation. We see that it meets a counter-agency, from the league of
+Truth-tellers, few, but each of them mighty as Fingal or any other hero
+of the sort. Let such tell the whole truth, as well as nothing but the
+truth, but let their sternness be in the spirit of Love. Let them seek
+to understand the purpose and scope of an author, his capacity as well
+as his fulfilments, and how his faults are made to grow by the same
+sunshine that acts upon his virtues, for this is the case with talents
+no less than with character. The rich field requires frequent and
+careful weeding; frequent, lest the weeds exhaust the soil; careful,
+lest the flowers and grain be pulled up along with the weeds.
+
+It has often been our lot to share the mistake of Gil Blas with regard
+to the Archbishop. We have taken people at their word, and while
+rejoicing that women could bear neglect without feeling mean pique, and
+that authors, rising above self-love, could show candor about their
+works, and magnanimously meet both justice and injustice, we have been
+rudely awakened from our dream, and found that chanticleer, who crowed
+so bravely, showed himself at last but a dunghill fowl. Yet Heaven grant
+we never become too worldly-wise thus to trust a generous word, and we
+surely are not so yet, for we believe Mr. Poe to be sincere when he
+says,--
+
+"In defence of my own taste, it is incumbent upon me to say that I think
+nothing in this volume of much value to the public or very creditable to
+myself. Events not to be controlled have prevented me from making, at
+any time, any serious effort, in what, under happier circumstances,
+would have been the field of my choice."
+
+We believe Mr. Poe to be sincere in this declaration; if he is, we
+respect him; if otherwise, we do not. Such things should never be said
+unless in hearty earnest. If in earnest, they are honorable pledges; if
+not, a pitiful fence and foil of vanity. Earnest or not, the words are
+thus far true; the productions in this volume indicate a power to do
+something far better. With the exception of the Raven, which seems
+intended chiefly to show the writer's artistic skill, and is in its way
+a rare and finished specimen, they are all fragments--_fyttes_ upon the
+lyre, almost all of which leave a something to desire or demand. This is
+not the case, however, with these lines:--
+
+    TO ONE IN PARADISE.
+
+    Thou wast all that to me, love,
+      For which my soul did pine--
+    A green isle in the sea, love,
+      A fountain and a shrine,
+    All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
+      And all the flowers were mine.
+
+    Ah, dream too bright to last!
+      Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
+    But to be overcast!
+      A voice from out the Future cries,
+    "On! on!"--but o'er the Past
+      (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
+    Mute, motionless, aghast!
+
+    For, alas! alas! with me
+      The light of life is o'er!
+      No more--no more--no more
+    (Such language holds the solemn sea
+      To the sands upon the shore)
+    Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
+      Or the stricken eagle soar!
+
+    And all my days are trances,
+      And all my nightly dreams
+    Are where thy dark eye glances,
+      And where thy footstep gleams--
+    In what ethereal dances,
+      By what eternal streams.
+
+The poems breathe a passionate sadness, relieved sometimes by touches
+very lovely and tender:--
+
+    "Amid the earnest woes
+      That crowd around my earthly path
+    (Drear path, alas! where grows
+      Not even one lonely rose.") * * *
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
+    The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes--
+    The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes."
+
+This kind of beauty is especially conspicuous, even rising into dignity,
+in the poem called the Haunted Palace.
+
+The imagination of this writer rarely expresses itself in pronounced
+forms, but rather in a sweep of images, thronging and distant like a
+procession of moonlight clouds on the horizon, but like them
+characteristic and harmonious one with another, according to their
+office.
+
+The descriptive power is greatest when it takes a shape not unlike an
+incantation, as in the first part of the Sleeper, where
+
+    "I stand beneath the mystic moon;
+    An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
+    Exhales from out a golden rim,
+    And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
+    Upon the quiet mountain top,
+    Steals drowsily and musically
+    Into the universal valley."
+
+Why _universal_?--"resolve me that, Master Moth."
+
+And farther on, "the lily _lolls_ upon the wave."
+
+This word _lolls_, often made use of in these poems, presents a vulgar
+image to our thought; we know not how it is to that of others.
+
+The lines which follow, about the open window, are highly poetical. So
+is the Bridal Ballad in its power of suggesting a whole tribe and train
+of thoughts and pictures, by few and simple touches.
+
+The poems written in youth, written, indeed, we understand, in
+childhood, before the author was ten years old, are a great
+psychological curiosity. Is it the delirium of a prematurely excited
+brain that causes such a rapture of words? What is to be gathered from
+seeing the future so fully anticipated in the germ? The passions are not
+unfrequently _felt_ in their full shock, if not in their intensity, at
+eight or nine years old, but here they are _reflected upon_:--
+
+    "Sweet was their death--with them to die was rife
+    With the last ecstasy of satiate life."
+
+The scenes from Politian are done with clear, sharp strokes; the power
+is rather metaphysical than dramatic. We must repeat what we have
+heretofore said, that we could wish to see Mr. Poe engaged in a
+metaphysical romance. He needs a sustained flight and far range to show
+what his powers really are. Let us have from him the analysis of the
+Passions, with their appropriate Fates; let us have his speculations
+clarified; let him intersperse dialogue or poem, as the occasion
+prompts, and give us something really good and strong, firmly wrought,
+and fairly blazoned.
+
+
+
+
+ALFIERI AND CELLINI.[10]
+
+
+These two publications have come to hand during the last month--a
+cheering gleam upon the winter of our discontent, as we saw the flood of
+bad translations of worse books which swelled upon the country.
+
+We love our country well. The many false deeds and low thoughts; the
+devotion to interest; the forgetfulness of principle; the indifference
+to high and noble sentiment, which have, in so many ways, darkened her
+history for some years back, have not made us despair of her yet
+fulfilling the great destiny whose promise rose, like a star, only some
+half a century ago upon the hopes of the world.
+
+Should that star be forsaken by its angel, and those hopes set finally
+in clouds of shame, the church which we had built out of the ruins of
+the ancient time must fall to the ground. This church seemed a model of
+divine art. It contained a labyrinth which, when threaded by aid of the
+clew of Faith, presented, re-viewed from its centre, the most admirable
+harmony and depth of meaning in its design, and comprised in its
+decorations all the symbols of permanent interest of which the mind of
+man has made use for the benefit of man. Such was to be our church, a
+church not made with hands, catholic, universal, all whose stones should
+be living stones, its officials the cherubim of Love and Knowledge, its
+worship wiser and purer action than has before been known to men. To
+such a church men do indeed constitute the state, and men indeed we
+hoped from the American church and state, men so truly human that they
+could not live while those made in their own likeness were bound down to
+the condition of brutes.
+
+Should such hopes be baffled, should such a church fall in the building,
+such a state find no realization except to the eye of the poet, God
+would still be in the world, and surely guide each bird, that can be
+patient, on the wing to its home at last. But expectations so noble,
+which find so broad a basis in the past, which link it so harmoniously
+with the future, cannot lightly be abandoned. The same Power leads by a
+pillar of cloud as by a pillar of fire--the Power that deemed even Moses
+worthy only of a distant view of the Promised Land.
+
+And to those who cherish such expectations rational education,
+considered in various ways and bearings, must be the one great topic of
+interest; an enterprise in which the humblest service is precious and
+honorable to any who can inspire its soul. Our thoughts anticipate with
+eager foresight the race that may grow up from this amalgamation of all
+races of the world which our situation induces. It was the pride and
+greatness of ancient nations to keep their blood unmixed; but it must be
+ours to be willing to mingle, to accept in a generous spirit what each
+clime and race has to offer us.
+
+It is, indeed, the case that much diseased substance is offered to form
+this new body; and if there be not in ourselves a nucleus, a heart of
+force and purity to assimilate these strange and various materials into
+a very high form of organic life, they must needs induce one distorted,
+corrupt, and degraded beyond the example of other times and places.
+There will be no medium about it. Our grand scene of action demands
+grandeur and purity; lacking these, one must suffer from so base failure
+in proportion to the success that should have been.
+
+It would be the worthiest occupation of mind to ascertain the
+conditions propitious for this meeting of the nations in their new home,
+and to provide preventions for obvious dangers that attend it. It would
+be occupation for which the broadest and deepest knowledge of human
+nature in its mental, moral, and bodily relations, the noblest freedom
+from prejudice, with the finest discrimination as to differences and
+relations, directed and enlightened by a prophetic sense as to what Man
+is designed by God to become, would all be needed to fit the thinker.
+Yet some portion of these qualities, or of some of these qualities, if
+accompanied by earnestness and aspiration, may enable any one to offer
+useful suggestions. The mass of ignorance and selfishness is such, that
+no grain of leaven must be despised.
+
+And as the men of all countries come hither to find a home, and become
+parts of a new life, so do the books of all countries gravitate towards
+this new centre. Copious infusions from all quarters mingle daily with
+the new thought which is to grow into American mind, and develop
+American literature.
+
+As every ship brings us foreign teachers, a knowledge of living
+contemporary tongues must in the course of fifty years become the
+commonest attainment. There exists no doubt in the minds of those who
+can judge, that the German, French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese
+tongues might, by familiar instruction and _an intelligent method_, be
+taught with perfect ease during the years of childhood, so that the
+child would have as distinct a sense of their several natures, and
+nearly as much expertness in their use, as in his own. The higher uses
+of such knowledge can, of course, be expected only in a more advanced
+state of the faculties; but it is pity that the acquaintance with the
+medium of thought should be deferred to a period when the mind is
+sufficiently grown to bend its chief attention on the thoughts
+themselves. Much of the most precious part of short human lives is now
+wasted from an ignorance of what might easily be done for children, and
+without taking from them the time they need for common life, play, and
+bodily growth, more than at present.
+
+Meanwhile the English begins to vie with the German and French
+literature in the number, though not in the goodness, of the
+translations from other languages. The indefatigable Germans can
+translate, and do other things too; so that geniuses often there apply
+themselves to the work as an amusement: even the all-employed Goethe
+has translated one of the books before us, (Memoirs of Cellini.) But in
+English we know but of one, Coleridge's Wallenstein, where the reader
+will feel the electric current undiminished by the medium through which
+it comes to him. And then the profligate abuse of the power of
+translation has been unparalleled, whether in the choice of books or the
+carelessness in disguising those that were good in a hideous mask. No
+falsehood can be worse than this of deforming the expression of a great
+man's thoughts, of corrupting that form which he has watched, and toiled
+and suffered to make beautiful and true. We know no falsehood that
+should call a more painful blush to the cheek of one engaged in it.
+
+We have no narrowness in our view of the contents of such books. We are
+not afraid of new standards and new examples. Only give enough of them,
+variety enough, and from well-intentioned, generous minds. America can
+choose what she wants, if she has sufficient range of choice; and if
+there is any real reason, any deep root in the tastes and opinions she
+holds at present, she will not lightly yield them. Only give her what is
+good of its kind. Her hope is not in ignorance, but in knowledge. We
+are, indeed, very fond of range, and if there is check, there should be
+countercheck; and in this view we are delighted to see these great
+Italians domesticated here. We have had somewhat too much of the French
+and Germans of late. We value unchangeably our sparkling and rapid
+French friend; still more the searching, honest, and, in highest sense,
+visionary German genius. But there is not on earth, and, we dare to say
+it, will not be again, genius _like_ that of Italy, or that can compare
+with it, in its own way.
+
+Italy and Greece were alike in this; those sunny skies ripened their
+fruits perfectly. The oil and honey of Greece, the wine of Italy, not
+only suggest, but satisfy. _There_ we find fulfilment, elsewhere great
+achievement only.
+
+O, acute, cautious, calculating Yankee; O, graceful, witty, hot-blooded,
+flimsy Southron; and thou, man of the West, going ahead too fast to pick
+up a thought or leave a flower upon thy path,--look at these men with
+their great fiery passions, but will and intellect still greater and
+stronger, perfectly sincere, from a contempt of falsehood. If they had
+acted wrong, they said and felt that they had, and that it was base and
+hateful in them. They were sagacious, as children are, not from
+calculation, but because the fine instincts of nature were unspoiled in
+them. I speak now of Alfieri and Cellini. Dante had all their
+instinctive greatness and deep-seated fire, with the reflective and
+creative faculties besides, to an extent of which they never dreamed.
+
+He who reads these biographies may take them from several points of
+view. As pictures of manners, as sincere transcripts of the men and
+their times, they are not and could not be surpassed. That truth which
+Rousseau sought so painfully and vainly by self-brooding, subtle
+analysis, they attained without an effort. _Why_ they felt they cared
+little, but _what_ they felt they surely knew; and where a fly or worm
+has injured the peach, its passage is exactly marked, so that you are
+sure the rest is fair and sound. Both as physiological and psychical
+histories, they are full of instruction. In Alfieri, especially, the
+nervous disease generated in the frame by any uncongenial tension of the
+brain, the periodical crises in his health, the manner in which his
+accesses of passion came upon him, afford infinite suggestion to one who
+has an eye for the circumstances which fashion the destiny of man. Let
+the physician compare the furies of Alfieri with the silent rages of
+Byron, and give the mother and pedagogue the light in which they are now
+wholly wanting, showing how to treat such noble plants in the early
+stages of growth. We think the "hated cap" would not be put a second
+time on the head so easily diseased.
+
+The biography of Cellini, it is commonly said, is more interesting than
+any romance. It _is_ a romance, with the character of the hero fully
+brought out. Cellini lived in all the fulness of inward vigor, all the
+variety of outward adventure, and passed through all the signs of the
+Zodiac, in his circling course, occasionally raising a little vapor from
+the art magic. He was really the Orlando Furioso turned Goldsmith, and
+Angelicas and all the Peers of France joined in the show. However, he
+never lived deeply; he had not time; the creative energy turned outward
+too easily, and took those forms that still enchant the mind of Europe.
+Alfieri was very different in this. He was like the root of some
+splendid southern plant, buried beneath a heap of rubbish. Above him was
+a glorious sky, fit to develop his form and excite his colors; but he
+was compelled to a long and terrible struggle to get up where he could
+be free to receive its influence. Institutions, language, family, modes
+of education,--all were unfit for him; and perhaps no man was ever
+called to such efforts, after he had reached manly age, to unmake and
+remake himself before he could become what his inward aspiration craved.
+All this deepened his nature, and it _was_ deep. It is his great force
+of will and the compression of Nature within its iron grasp, where
+Nature was so powerful and impulsive, that constitutes the charm of his
+writings. It is the man Alfieri who moves, nay, overpowers us, and not
+his writings, which have no flow nor plastic beauty. But we feel the
+vital dynamics, and imagine it all.
+
+By us Americans, if ever such we really are to be, Alfieri should be
+held sacred as a godfather and holy light. He was a harbinger of what
+most gives this time its character and value. He was the friend of
+liberty, the friend of man, in the sense that Burns was--of the native
+nobleness of man. Soiled and degraded men he hated. He was, indeed, a
+man of pitiless hatred as of boundless love, and he had bitter
+prejudices too, but they were from antipathies too strongly intertwined
+with his sympathies for any hand less powerful than that of Death to
+rend them away.
+
+But our space does not permit us to do any justice to such a life as
+Alfieri's. Let others read it, not from their habitual, but an eternal
+point of view, and they cannot mistake its purport. Some will be most
+touched by the storms of his youth, others by the exploits and conquests
+of his later years; but all will find him, in the words of his friend
+Casella, "sculptured just as he was, lofty, strange, and extreme, not
+only in his natural characteristics, but in every work that did not seem
+to him unworthy of his generous affections. And where he went too far,
+it is easy to perceive his excesses always flowed from some praiseworthy
+sentiment."
+
+Among a crowd of thoughts suggested to the mind by reperusal of this
+book, to us a friend of many years standing, we hastily note the
+following:--
+
+Alfieri knew how to be a friend, and had friends such as his masculine
+and uncompromising temper fitted him to endure and keep. He had even two
+or three of those noble friends. He was a perfect lover in delicacy of
+sentiment, in devotion, in a desire for constancy, in a high ideal,
+growing always higher, and he was, at last, happy in love. Many geniuses
+have spoken worthily of women in their works, but he speaks of woman as
+she wishes to be spoken of, and declares that he met the desire of his
+soul realized in life. This, almost alone, is an instance where a great
+nature was permanently satisfied, and the claims of man and woman
+equally met, where one of the parties had the impatient fire of genius.
+His testimony on this subject is of so rare a sort, we must copy it:--
+
+"My fourth and last passion, fortunately for me, showed itself by
+symptoms entirely different from the three first. In the former, my
+intellect had felt little of the fires of passion; but now my heart and
+my genius were both equally kindled, and if my passion was less
+impetuous, it became more profound and lasting. Such was the flame which
+by degrees absorbed every affection and thought of my being, and it will
+never fade away except with my life. Two months satisfied me that I had
+now found the _true woman_; for, instead of encountering in her, as in
+all common women, an obstacle to literary glory, a hinderance to useful
+occupations, and a damper to thought, she proved a high stimulus, a pure
+solace, and an alluring example to every beautiful work. Prizing a
+treasure so rare, I gave myself away to her irrevocably. And I certainly
+erred not. More than twelve years have passed, and while I am writing
+this chit-chat, having reached that calm season when passion loses its
+blandishments, I cherish her more tenderly than ever; and I love her
+just in proportion as glide from her in the lapse of time those
+little-esteemed toll-gatherers of departing beauty. In her my soul is
+exalted, softened, and made better day by day; and I will dare to say
+and believe she has found in me support and consolation."
+
+We have spoken of the peculiarities in Alfieri's physical condition.
+These naturally led him to seek solace in violent exercise; and as in
+the case of Beckford and Byron, horses were his best friends in the hour
+of danger. This sort of man is the modern Achilles, "the tamer of
+horses." In what degree the health of Alfieri was improved, and his
+sympathies awakened by the society and care of these noble animals, is
+very evident. Almost all persons, perhaps all that are in a natural
+state, need to stand in patriarchal relations with the animals most
+correspondent with their character. We have the highest respect for this
+instinct and sincere belief in the good it brings; if understood, it
+would be cherished, not ridiculed.
+
+
+
+
+ITALY.--CARY'S DANTE.
+
+
+Translating Dante is indeed a labor of love. It is one in which even a
+moderate degree of success is impossible. No great Poet can be well
+translated. The form of his thought is inseparable from his thought. The
+births of his genius are perfect beings: body and soul are in such
+perfect harmony that you cannot at all alter the one without veiling the
+other. The variation in cadence and modulation, even where the words are
+exactly rendered, takes not only from the form of the thought, but from
+the thought itself, its most delicate charm. Translations come to us as
+a message to the lover from the lady of his love through the lips of a
+confidante or menial--we are obliged to imagine what was most vital in
+the utterance.
+
+These difficulties, always insuperable, are accumulated a hundred-fold
+in the case of Dante, both by the extraordinary depth and subtlety of
+his thought, and his no less extraordinary power of concentrating its
+expression, till every verse is like a blade of thoroughly tempered
+steel. You might as well attempt to translate a glance of fire from the
+human eye into any other language--even music cannot do that.
+
+We think, then, that the use of Cary's translation, or any other, can
+never be to diffuse a knowledge of Dante. This is not in its nature
+diffusible; he is one of those to whom others must draw near; he cannot
+be brought to them. He has no superficial charm to cheat the reader into
+a belief that he knows him, without entrance into the same sphere.
+
+These translations can be of use only to the translators, as a means of
+deliberate study of the original, or to others who are studying the
+original, and wish to compare their own version of doubtful passages
+with that of an older disciple, highly qualified, both by devotion and
+mental development, for the study.
+
+We must say a few words as to the pedantic folly with which this study
+has been prosecuted in this country, and, we believe, in England. Not
+only the tragedies of Alfieri and the Faust of Goethe, but the Divina
+Commedia of Dante,--a work which it is not probable there are upon
+earth, at any one time, a hundred minds able to appreciate,--are turned
+into school books for little girls who have just left their hoops and
+dolls, and boys whose highest ambition it is to ride a horse that will
+run away, and brave the tutor in a college frolic.
+
+This is done from the idea that, in order to get acquainted with a
+foreign language, the student must read books that have attained the
+dignity of classics, and also which are "hard." Hard indeed it must be
+for the Muses to see their lyres turned into gridirons for the
+preparation of a school-girl's lunch; harder still for the younglings to
+be called to chew and digest thunderbolts, in lieu of their natural
+bread and butter.
+
+Are there not "classics" enough which would not suffer by being put to
+such uses? In Greek, Homer is a book for a boy; must you give him Plato
+because it is harder? Is there no choice among the Latins? Are all who
+wrote in the Latin tongue equally fit for the appreciation of sixteen
+Yankee years? In Italian, have you not Tasso, Ariosto, and other writers
+who have really a great deal that the immature mind can enjoy, without
+choking it with the stern politics of Alfieri, or piling upon a brain
+still soft the mountainous meanings of Dante? Indeed, they are saved
+from suffering by the perfect ignorance of all meaning in which they
+leave these great authors, fancying, to their life-long misfortune, that
+they have read them. I have been reminded, by the remarks of my young
+friends on these subjects, of the Irish peasant, who, having been
+educated on a book prepared for his use, called "Reading made easy,"
+blesses through life the kindness that taught him his "Radamadasy;" and
+of the child who, hearing her father quote Horace, observed _she_
+"thought Latin was even sillier than French."
+
+No less pedantic is the style in which the grown-up, in stature at
+least, undertakes to become acquainted with Dante. They get the best
+Italian Dictionary, all the notes they can find, amounting in themselves
+to a library, for his countrymen have not been less external and
+benighted in their way of regarding him. Painfully they study through
+the book, seeking with anxious attention to know who Signor This is, and
+who was the cousin of Signora That, and whether any deep papal or
+anti-papal meaning was couched by Dante under the remark that Such-a-one
+wore a great-coat. A mind, whose small chambers look yet smaller by
+being crowded with furniture from all parts of the world, bought by
+labor, not received from inheritance or won by love, asserts that he
+must understand Dante well, better than any other person probably,
+because he has studied him through in this way thirty or forty times. As
+well declare you have a better appreciation of Shakspeare than any one
+else because you have identified the birthplace of Dame Quickly, or
+ascertained the churchyard where the ghost of the royal Dane hid from
+the sight of that far more celestial spirit, his son.
+
+O, painstaking friends! Shut your books, clear your minds from
+artificial nonsense, and feel that only by spirit can spirit be
+discerned. Dante, like each other great one, took the stuff that lay
+around him, and wove it into a garment of light. It is not by ravelling
+that you will best appreciate its tissue or design. It is not by
+studying out the petty strifes or external relations of his time, that
+you can become acquainted with the thought of Dante. To him these things
+were only soil in which to plant himself--figures by which to dramatize
+and evolve his ideas. Would you learn him, go listen in the forest of
+human passions to all the terrible voices he heard with a tormented but
+never-to-be-deafened ear; go down into the hells, where each excess that
+mars the harmony of nature is punished by the sinner finding no food
+except from his own harvest; pass through the purgatories of
+speculation, of struggling hope, and faith, never quite quenched, but
+smouldering often and long beneath the ashes. Soar if thou canst, but if
+thou canst not, clear thine eye to see this great eagle soar into the
+higher region where forms arrange themselves for stellar dance and
+spheral melody,--and thought, with costly-accelerated motion, raises
+itself a spiral which can only end in the heart of the Supreme.
+
+He who finds in himself no fitness to study Dante in this way, should
+regard himself as in the position of a candidate for the ancient
+mysteries, when rejected as unfit for initiation. He should seek in
+other ways to purify, expand, and strengthen his being, and, when he
+feels that he is nobler and stronger, return and try again whether he is
+"grown up to it," as the Germans say.
+
+"The difficulty is in the thoughts;" and this cannot be obviated by the
+most minute acquaintance with the history of the times. Comparison of
+one edition with another is of use, as a guard against obstructions
+through mistake. Still more useful will be the method recommended by Mr.
+Cary, of comparing the Poet with himself; this belongs to the
+intellectual method, and is the way in which to study our intellectual
+friend.
+
+The versions of Cary and Lyell will be found of use to the student, if
+he wants to compare his ideas with those of accomplished
+fellow-students. The poems in the London book would aid much in a full
+appreciation of the comedy; they ought to be read in the original, but
+copies are not easily to be met here, unless in the great libraries. The
+Vita Nuova is the noblest expression extant of the inward life of Love,
+the best preface and comment to every thing else that Dante did.
+
+'Tis pity that the designs of Flaxman are so poorly reproduced in this
+American book. It would have been far better to have had it a little
+dearer, and thus better done. The designs of Flaxman were really a noble
+comment upon Dante, and might help to interpret him; and we are sorry
+that those who can see only a few of them should see them so
+imperfectly. But in some, as in that of the meeting with Farinata, the
+expression cannot be destroyed while one line of the original remained.
+The "lost portrait" we do not like as preface to "La Divina Comedia." To
+that belongs our accustomed object of reverence, the head of Dante, such
+as the Florentine women saw him, when they thought his hair and beard
+were still singed, his face dark and sublime with what he had seen
+_below_.
+
+Prefixed to the other book is a head "from a cast taken after death at
+Ravenna, A. D. 1321." It has the grandeur which death sometimes puts on;
+the fulness of past life is there, but made sacred in Eternity. It is
+also the only front view of Dante we have seen. It is not unworthy to
+mark the point
+
+    "When vigor failed the towering fantasy,
+    But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel
+    In even motion by the love impelled
+    That moves the sun in heaven, and all the stars."
+
+We ought to say, in behalf of this publication, that whosoever wants
+Cary's version will rejoice, at last, as do we, to possess it in so fair
+and legible guise.
+
+Before leaving the Italians, we must mourn over the misprints of our
+homages to the great tragedian in the preceding review. Our manuscripts
+being as illegible as if we were a great genius, we never complain of
+these errata, except when we are made to reverse our meaning on some
+vital point. We did not say that Alfieri was perfect _in person_, nor
+sundry other things that are there; but we do mourn at seeming to say of
+our friends, "_Why_ they felt they care little, but _what_ they felt
+they _scarcely_ knew," when in fact we asserted, "what they felt they
+_surely_ knew."
+
+In the article on the Celestial Empire we had made this assertion of the
+Chinese music: "Like _their_ poetry, the music is of the narrowest
+monotony;" in place of which stands this assertion: "Like _true_ poetry,
+their music is of the narrowest monotony." But we trust the most
+careless reader would not think the merely human mind capable of so
+original a remark, and will put this blasphemy to account of that little
+demon who has so much to answer for in the sufferings of poor writers
+before they can get their thoughts to the eyes of their
+fellow-creatures, in print, that there seems scarcely a chance of his
+being redeemed as long as there is one author in existence to accuse
+him.[11]
+
+
+
+
+AMERICAN FACTS.
+
+
+Such is the title of a volume just issued from the press; a grand title,
+which suggests the epic poet or the philosopher. The purpose of the
+work, however, is modest. It is merely a compilation, from which those
+who have lived at some distance from the great highway may get answers
+to their questions, as to events and circumstances which may have
+escaped them. It is one of those books which will be valued in the
+backwoods.
+
+It would be a great book indeed, and one that would require the eye and
+heart of a great man,--great as a judge, great as a seer, and great as a
+prophet,--that should select for us and present in harmonious outline
+the true American facts. To choose the right point of view supposes
+command of the field.
+
+Such a man must be attentive, a quiet observer of the slighter signs of
+growth. But he must not be one to dwell superstitiously on details, nor
+one to hasten to conclusions. He must have the eye of the eagle, the
+courage of the lion, the patience of the worm, and faith such as is the
+prerogative of man alone, and of man in the highest phase of his
+culture.
+
+We doubt not the destiny of our country--that she is to accomplish great
+things for human nature, and be the mother of a nobler race than the
+world has yet known. But she has been so false to the scheme made out at
+her nativity, that it is now hard to say which way that destiny points.
+We can hardly exhibit the true American facts without some idea of the
+real character of America. Only one thing seems clear--that the energy
+here at work is very great, though the men employed in carrying out its
+purposes may have generally no more individual ambition to understand
+those purposes, or cherish noble ones of their own, than the coral
+insect through whose restless working new continents are upheaved from
+ocean's breast.
+
+Such a man, passing in a boat from one extremity of the Mississippi to
+another, and observing every object on the shore as he passed, would yet
+learn nothing of universal or general value, because he has no
+principles, even in hope, by which to classify them. American facts!
+Why, what has been done that marks individuality? Among men there is
+Franklin. He is a fact, and an American fact. Niagara is another, in a
+different style. The way in which newspapers and other periodicals are
+managed is American; a go-ahead, fearless adroitness is American; so is
+_not_, exclusively, the want of strict honor. But we look about in vain
+for traits as characteristic of what may be individually the character
+of the nation, as we can find at a glance in reference to Spain,
+England, France, or Turkey. America is as yet but a European babe; some
+new ways and motions she has, consequent on a new position; but that
+soul that may shape her mature life scarce begins to know itself yet.
+One thing is certain; we live in a large place, no less morally than
+physically: woe to him who lives meanly here, and knows the exhibitions
+of selfishness and vanity as the only American facts.
+
+
+
+
+NAPOLEON AND HIS MARSHALS.[12]
+
+
+As we pass the old Brick Chapel our eye is sometimes arrested by
+placards that hang side by side. On one is advertised "the Lives of the
+Apostles," on the other "Napoleon and his Marshals."
+
+Surely it is the most monstrous thing the world ever saw, that eighteen
+hundred years' profound devotion to a religious teacher should not
+preclude flagrant and all but universal violation of his most obvious
+precepts; that Napoleon and his Marshals should be some of the best
+ripened fruit of our time; that our own people, so unwearied in building
+up temples of wood and stone to the Prince of Peace, should be at this
+era mad with boyish exultation at the winning of battles, and in a bad
+cause too.
+
+In view of such facts we cannot wonder that Dr. Channing, the editor of
+the Tribune, and others who make Christianity their standard, should
+find little savor in glowing expositions of the great French drama, and
+be disgusted at words of defence, still more of admiration, spoken in
+behalf of its leading actor.
+
+We can easily admit at once that the whole French drama was
+anti-Christian, just as the political conduct of every nation of
+Christendom has been thus far, with rare and brief exceptions. Something
+different might have been expected from our own, because the world has
+now attained a clearer consciousness of right, and in our case our
+position would have made obedience easy. We have not been led into
+temptation; we sought it. It is greed, and not want, that has impelled
+this nation to wrong. The paths of peace would have been for her also
+the paths of wisdom and of pleasantness, but she would not, and has
+preferred the path of the beast of prey in the uncertain forest, to the
+green pastures where "walks the good Shepherd, his meek temples crowned
+with roses red and white."
+
+Since the state of things is such, we see no extremity of censure that
+should fall upon the great French leader, except that he was like the
+majority. He was ruthless and selfish on a larger scale than most
+monarchs; but we see no difference in grain, nor in principles of
+action.
+
+Admit, then, that he was not a good man, and never for one moment acted
+disinterestedly. But do not refuse to do homage to his genius. It is
+well worth your while to learn to appreciate _that_, if you wish to
+understand the work that the spirit of the time did, and is still doing,
+through him; for his mind is still upon the earth, working here through
+the tributary minds it fed. We must say, for our own part, we cannot
+admit the right of men severely to criticise Napoleon, till they are
+able to appreciate what he was, as well as see what he was not. And we
+see no mind of sufficient grasp, or high-placed enough to take this
+estimate duly, nor do we believe this age will furnish one. Many
+problems will have to be worked out first.
+
+We reject the exclusively moral no less than the exclusively
+intellectual view, and find most satisfaction in those who, aiming
+neither at apology nor attack, make their observations upon the great
+phenomenon as partial, and to be received as partial.
+
+Mr. Headley, in his first surprise at finding how falsely John Bull,
+rarely liberal enough to be fully trusted in evidence on any topic, has
+spoken of the acts of a hated and dreaded foe, does indeed rush too much
+on the other side. He mistakes the touches of sentiment in Napoleon for
+genuine feeling. Now we know that Napoleon loved to read Ossian, and
+could appreciate the beauty of tenderness: but we do not believe that he
+had one particle of what is properly termed heart;--that is, he could
+always silence sentiment at once when his projects demanded it. Then Mr.
+Headley finds apologies for acts where apology is out of place. They
+characterize the ruthless nature of the man, and that is all that can be
+said of them. He moved on, like the Juggernaut car, to his end, and
+spilled the blood that was needed for this, whether that blood were
+"ditch-water" or otherwise. Neither is this supposing him to be a
+monster. The human heart is very capable of such uncontrolled
+selfishness, just as it is of angelic love. "'Tis but the first step
+that costs"--_much_. Yet some compassionate hand strewed flowers on
+Nero's grave, and the whole world cried shame when Bonaparte's Mameluke
+forsook his master.
+
+Mr. Headley does not seem to be aware that there is no trust to be put
+in Napoleon's own account of his actions. He seems to have been almost
+incapable of speaking sincerely to those about him. We doubt whether he
+could have forgotten with the woman he loved, that she might become his
+historiographer.
+
+But granting the worst that can be said of ruthless acts in the stern
+Corsican, are we to reserve our anathema for him alone? He is no worse
+than the other crowned ones, against whom he felt himself continually in
+the balance. He has shed a greater quantity of blood, and done mightier
+wrongs, because he had more power, and followed with more fervor a more
+dazzling lure. We see no other difference between his conduct and that
+of the great Frederic of Prussia. He never did any thing so meanly
+wicked as has just been done in stirring up the Polish peasants to
+assassinate the nobles. He never did any thing so atrocious as has been
+done by Nicholas of Russia, who, just after his hypocritical intercourse
+with that "venerable man," the Pope, when he so zealously defended
+himself against the charge of scourging nuns to convert them to the
+Greek church, administers the knout to a noble and beautiful lady
+because she had given shelter for an hour to the patriot Dembinski. Why
+then so zealous against Napoleon only? He is but a specimen of what man
+must become when he _will_ be king over the bodies, where he cannot over
+the souls, of his fellow-men. We doubt if it is any worse in the sight
+of God to drain France of her best blood by the conscription, than to
+tear the flower of Genius from the breast of Italy to perish in a
+dungeon, leaving her overwhelmed and broken-hearted. Leaving all this
+aside, and granting that Napoleon might have done more and better, had
+his heart been pure from ambition, which gave it such electric power to
+animate a vast field of being, there is no reason why we should not
+prize what he did do. And here we think Mr. Headley's style the only one
+in place. We honor him for the power he shows of admiring the genius
+which, in ploughing its gigantic furrow, broke up every artificial
+barrier that hid the nations of Europe one from the other--that has left
+the "career open to talent," by a gap so broad that no "Chinese
+alliance" can ever close it again, and in its vast plans of civic
+improvement half-anticipated Fourier. With him all _thoughts_ became
+_things_; it has been spoken in blame, it has been spoken in praise; for
+ourselves we see not how this most practical age and country can refuse
+to apprehend the designs, and study the instincts of this wonderful
+practical genius.
+
+The characters of the marshals are kept up with the greatest spirit, and
+that power of seizing leading traits that gives these sketches the
+greatness of dramatic poetry. The marshals are majestic figures; men
+vulgar and undeveloped on many sides, but always clear and strong in
+their own way. One mind animates them, and of that mind Napoleon is the
+culminating point. He did not choose them; they were a part of himself,
+a part of the same thought of which he was the most forcible
+expression. If sometimes inclined to disparage them, it was as a man
+might disparage his hand by saying it was not his head. He truly felt
+that he was the central force, though some of them were greater in the
+details of action than himself. Attempts have often been made to darken
+even the military fame of Napoleon and his generals--attempts
+disgraceful enough from a foe whom they so long held in terror. But to
+any unprejudiced mind there is evident in the conduct of their battles,
+the development of the instincts of genius in mighty force, and to
+inevitable results.
+
+With all the haste of hand and inequality of touch they show, these
+sketches are full of strength and brilliancy, an honor to the country
+that produced them. There is no got-up harmony, no attempt at
+originality or acuteness; all is living,--the overflow of the mind; we
+like Mr. Headley; even in his faults he is a most agreeable contrast to
+the made men of the day.
+
+In the sketches of the Marshals we have the men before us, a living
+reality. Massena, at the siege of Genoa, is represented with a great
+deal of simple force. The whole personality of Murat, with his "Oriental
+nature" and Oriental dress, is admirably depicted. Why had nobody ever
+before had the clearness of perception to see just this, _and no more_,
+in the "theatrical" Murat? Of his darling hero, Ney, the writer has
+implied so much all along, that he lays less stress on what he says of
+him directly. He thinks it is all understood, and it is.
+
+Take this book for just what it is; do not look for cool discussion,
+impartial criticism, but take it as a vivacious and feeling
+representation of events and actors in a great era: you will find it
+full of truth, such as only sympathy could teach, and will derive from
+it a pleasure and profit lively and genuine as itself. As to denying or
+correcting its statements, it is very desirable that those who are able
+should do that part of the work; but, in doing it, let them be grateful
+for what _is_ done, and what _they_ could not do; grateful for
+reproduction such as he who throws himself into the genius and the
+persons of the time may hope for; but he never can who keeps himself
+composed in critical distance and self-possession. You cannot have all
+excellences combined in one person; let us then cheerfully work together
+to complete the beautiful whole,--beautiful in its unity,--no less
+beautiful in its variety.
+
+
+
+
+PHYSICAL EDUCATION.[13]
+
+
+This lecture of Dr. Warren is printed in a form suitable for popular
+distribution, while the high reputation of its author insures it
+respect. Readers will expect to find here those rules for daily practice
+taught by that plain common-sense which men possess from nature, but
+strangely lose sight of, amid their many inventions, and are obliged to
+rediscover by aid of experience and science.
+
+Here will be found those general statements as to modes of exercise,
+care of the skin, choice of food, and time, and circumstances required
+for its digestion, which might furnish the ounce of prevention that is
+worth so many pounds of cure. And how much are these needed in this
+country, where the most barbarous ignorance prevails on the subject of
+cleanliness, sleeping accommodations, &c.! On these subjects improvement
+would be easy; that of diet is far more complicated, and is,
+unfortunately, one which requires great knowledge of the ways in which
+the human frame is affected by the changes of climate and various other
+influences, even wisely to discuss. If it is difficult where a race,
+mostly indigenous to the soil, feed upon what Mother Nature has prepared
+expressly for their use, and where excess or want of judgment in its use
+produces disease, it must be far more so where men come from all
+latitudes to live under new circumstances, and need a judicious
+adaptation of the old to the new. The dogmatism and proscription that
+prevail on this topic amuse the observer and distress the patient.
+"Touch no meat for your life," says one. "It is not meat, but sugar,
+that is your ruin," cries another. "No, salt is the destruction of the
+world," sadly and gravely declares a third. Milk, which once conciliated
+all regards, has its denunciators. "Water," say some, "is the bliss that
+shall dissolve all bane. Drink; wash--take to yourself all the water you
+can get." "That is madness--is far worse than useless," cry others,
+"unless the water be pure. You must touch none that has not been tested
+by a chemist." "Yes, you may at any rate drink it," say others, "and in
+large quantities, for the power of water to aid digestion is obvious to
+every observer."
+
+"No," says Dr. Warren, "animals do not drink at the time they eat, but
+some hours after; and they generally take very small quantities of
+liquid, compared with that which is used by man. The savage, in his
+native wilds, takes his solid food, when he can obtain it, to satiety,
+reposes afterwards, and then resuming his chase through the forest,
+stops at the rivulet to allay his thirst. The disadvantage of taking a
+large quantity of liquid must be obvious to all those who consider that
+the digesting liquid is diluted and weakened in proportion to the
+quantity of drink."
+
+What wonder is it, if even the well-disposed among the multitude, seeing
+such dissension among the counsellors, gathering just enough from their
+disputes to infer that they have no true philosophical basis for their
+opinions, and seeing those who would set the example in practice of this
+art without science of dietetics generally among the most morbid and
+ill-developed specimens of humanity, just throw aside all rule upon the
+subject, partake of what is set before them, trust to air, exercise, and
+good intentions to ward off the worst effects of the promiscuous fare?
+
+Yet, while hopeless at present of selecting the right articles, and
+building up, so far as hereditary taint will permit, a pure and
+healthful body from feeding on congenial substances, we know at least
+this much, that stimulants and over-eating--not food--are injurious, and
+may take care enough of ourselves to avoid these.
+
+The other branches we can really act wisely in, Dr. Warren, after giving
+the usual directions (rarely followed as yet) for airing beds, and
+sleeping-rooms, adds,--
+
+"The manner in which children sleep will readily be acknowledged to be
+important; yet very little attention is paid to this matter. Children
+are crowded together in small, unventilated rooms, often two or three in
+a bed, and on beds composed of half prepared feathers, from which issues
+a noxious effluvia, infecting the child at a period when he is least
+able to resist its influence; so that in the morning, instead of feeling
+the full refreshment and vigor natural to his age, he is pale, languid,
+and for some time indisposed to exertion.
+
+"The rooms in which children are brought up should be well aired, by
+having a fireplace, which should be kept open the greater part of the
+year. There never should be more than one in the same bed; and this
+remark may be applied with equal propriety to adults. The substance on
+which they lie should be hair, thoroughly prepared, so that it should
+have no bad smell. In winter it may be of cotton, or of hair and cotton.
+It would be very desirable, however, to place children in separate
+apartments, as well as in separate beds.
+
+"It has been justly said that adults as well as children had better
+employ single instead of double beds; this remark is intended to apply
+universally. The use of double beds has been very generally adopted in
+this country, perhaps in part as a matter of economy; but this practice
+is objectionable, for more reasons than can be stated here."
+
+On the subject of exercise, he mentions particularly the triangle, and
+we copy what he says, because of the perfect ease and convenience with
+which one could be put up and used in every bed-chamber.
+
+"The exercising the upper limbs is too much neglected; and it is
+important to provide the means of bringing them into action, as well to
+develop their powers as to enlarge and invigorate the chest, with which
+they are connected, and which they powerfully influence. The best I know
+of is the use of the triangle. This admirably exerts the upper limbs and
+the muscles of the chest, and, indeed, when adroitly employed, those of
+the whole body. The triangle is made of a stick of walnut wood, four
+feet long, and an inch and a half in diameter. To each end is connected
+a rope, the opposite extremities of which being confined together at
+such height as to allow the motion of swinging by the hands."
+
+We have ourselves derived the greatest benefit from this simple means.
+Gymnastic exercises, and if possible in the open air, are needed by
+every one who is not otherwise led to exercise all parts of the body by
+various kinds of labor. Some, though only partial provision, is made for
+boys by gymnasia and riding-schools. In wiser nations, such have been
+the care of the state. And in despotic governments, the jealousy of a
+tyrant was never more justly awakened than when the youth of the land,
+by a devotion to gymnastic exercises, showed their aspiration to reach
+the healthful stature of manhood. For every one who possesses a strong
+mind in a sane body is heir presumptive to the kingdom of this world; he
+needs no external credentials, but has only to appear and make clear his
+title. But for such a princely form the eye searches the street, the
+mart, and the council-chamber, in vain.
+
+Those who feel that the game of life is so nearly up with them that they
+cannot devote much of the time that is left to the care of wise living
+in their own persons, should, at least, be unwilling to injure the next
+generation by the same ignorance which has blighted so many of us in our
+earliest year. Such should attend to the work of Mr. Combe,[14] among
+other good books. Mr. Combe has done much good already in this country,
+and this book should be circulated every where, for many of its
+suggestions are too obviously just not to be adopted as soon as read.
+
+Dr. Warren bears his testimony against the pernicious effects that
+follow upon the use of tobacco, and we cannot but hope that what he says
+of its tendency to create cancer will have weight with some who are
+given to the detestable habit of chewing. This practice is so odious to
+women, that we must regard its prevalence here as a token of the very
+light regard in which they are held, and the consequent want of
+refinement among men. Dr. Warren seems to favor the practice of
+hydropathy to some extent, but must needs bear his testimony in full
+against homoeopathy. No matter; the little doses will insinuate their
+way, and cure the ills that flesh is heir to,
+
+    "For a' that, and a' that,
+    And mickle mair for a' that."
+
+
+
+
+FREDERICK DOUGLASS.[15]
+
+
+Frederick Douglass has been for some time a prominent member of the
+abolition party. He is said to be an excellent speaker--can speak from a
+thorough personal experience--and has upon the audience, besides, the
+influence of a strong character and uncommon talents. In the book before
+us he has put into the story of his life the thoughts, the feelings, and
+the adventures that have been so affecting through the living voice; nor
+are they less so from the printed page. He has had the courage to name
+persons, times, and places, thus exposing himself to obvious danger, and
+setting the seal on his deep convictions as to the religious need of
+speaking the whole truth. Considered merely as a narrative, we have
+never read one more simple, true, coherent, and warm with genuine
+feeling. It is an excellent piece of writing, and on that score to be
+prized as a specimen of the powers of the black race, which prejudice
+persists in disputing. We prize highly all evidence of this kind, and it
+is becoming more abundant. The cross of the Legion of Honor has just
+been conferred in France on Dumas and Soulie, both celebrated in the
+paths of light literature. Dumas, whose father was a general in the
+French army, is a mulatto; Soulie, a quadroon. He went from New Orleans,
+where, though to the eye a white man, yet, as known to have African
+blood in his veins, he could never have enjoyed the privileges due to a
+human being. Leaving the land of freedom, he found himself free to
+develop the powers that God had given.
+
+Two wise and candid thinkers--the Scotchman Kinmont, prematurely lost to
+this country, of which he was so faithful and generous a student, and
+the late Dr. Channing,--both thought that the African race had in them a
+peculiar element, which, if it could be assimilated with those imported
+among us from Europe, would give to genius a development, and to the
+energies of character a balance and harmony, beyond what has been seen
+heretofore in the history of the world. Such an element is indicated in
+their lowest estate by a talent for melody, a ready skill at imitation
+and adaptation, an almost indestructible elasticity of nature. It is to
+be remarked in the writings both of Soulie and Dumas, full of faults,
+but glowing with plastic life and fertile in invention. The same torrid
+energy and saccharine fulness may be felt in the writings of this
+Douglass, though his life, being one of action or resistance, has been
+less favorable to _such_ powers than one of a more joyous flow might
+have been.
+
+The book is prefaced by two communications--one from Garrison, and one
+from Wendell Phillips. That from the former is in his usual
+over-emphatic style. His motives and his course have been noble and
+generous; we look upon him with high respect; but he has indulged in
+violent invective and denunciation till he has spoiled the temper of his
+mind. Like a man who has been in the habit of screaming himself hoarse
+to make the deaf hear, he can no longer pitch his voice on a key
+agreeable to common ears. Mr. Phillips's remarks are equally decided,
+without this exaggeration in the tone. Douglass himself seems very just
+and temperate. We feel that his view, even of those who have injured him
+most, may be relied upon. He knows how to allow for motives and
+influences. Upon the subject of religion, he speaks with great force,
+and not more than our own sympathies can respond to. The inconsistencies
+of slaveholding professors of religion cry to Heaven. We are not
+disposed to detest, or refuse communion with them. Their blindness is
+but one form of that prevalent fallacy which substitutes a creed for a
+faith, a ritual for a life. We have seen too much of this system of
+atonement not to know that those who adopt it often began with good
+intentions, and are, at any rate, in their mistakes worthy of the
+deepest pity. But that is no reason why the truth should not be uttered,
+trumpet-tongued, about the thing. "Bring no more vain oblations;"
+sermons must daily be preached anew on that text. Kings, five hundred
+years ago, built churches with the spoils of war; clergymen to-day
+command slaves to obey a gospel which they will not allow them to read,
+and call themselves Christians amid the curses of their fellow-men. The
+world ought to get on a little faster than this, if there be really any
+principle of improvement in it. The kingdom of heaven may not at the
+beginning have dropped seed larger than a mustard-seed, but even from
+that we had a right to expect a fuller growth than we can believe to
+exist, when we read such a book as this of Douglass. Unspeakably
+affecting is the fact that he never saw his mother at all by daylight.
+
+"I do not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light of day. She
+was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to
+sleep, but long before I waked she was gone."
+
+The following extract presents a suitable answer to the hackneyed
+argument drawn by the defender of slavery from the songs of the slave,
+and is also a good specimen of the powers of observation and manly heart
+of the writer. We wish that every one may read his book, and see what a
+mind might have been stifled in bondage--what a man may be subjected to
+the insults of spendthrift dandies, or the blows of mercenary brutes, in
+whom there is no whiteness except of the skin, no humanity except in the
+outward form, and of whom the Avenger will not fail yet to demand,
+"Where is thy brother?"
+
+"The Home Plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appeaance of a country
+village. All the mechanical operations for all the farms were performed
+here. The shoemaking and mending, the blacksmithing, cartwrighting,
+coopering, weaving, and grain-grinding, were all performed by the slaves
+on the Home Plantation. The whole place wore a business-like aspect very
+unlike the neighboring farms. The number of houses, too, conspired to
+give it advantage over the neighboring farms. It was called by the
+slaves the _Great House Farm_. Few privileges were esteemed higher, by
+the slaves of the out-farms, than that of being selected to do errands
+at the Great House Farm. It was associated in their minds with
+greatness. A representative could not be prouder of his election to a
+seat in the American Congress, than a slave on one of the out-farms
+would be of his election to do errands at the Great House Farm. They
+regarded it as evidence of great confidence reposed in them by their
+overseers; and it was on this account, as well as a constant desire to
+be out of the field, from under the driver's lash, that they esteemed it
+a high privilege, one worth careful living for. He was called the
+smartest and most trusty fellow who had this honor conferred upon him
+the most frequently. The competitors for this office sought as
+diligently to please their overseers as the office-seekers in the
+political parties seek to please and deceive the people. The same traits
+of character might be seen in Colonel Lloyd's slaves, as are seen in the
+slaves of the political parties.
+
+"The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the monthly
+allowance for themselves and their fellow-slaves, were peculiarly
+enthusiastic. While on their way, they would make the dense old woods,
+for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once
+the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as
+they went along, consulting neither time nor tune. The thought that came
+up came out,--if not in the word, in the sound,--and as frequently in
+the one as in the other. They would sometimes sing the most pathetic
+sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous sentiment
+in the most pathetic tone. Into all their songs they would manage to
+weave something of the Great House Farm. Especially would they do this
+when leaving home. They would then sing most exultingly the following
+words:--
+
+    'I am going away to the Great House Farm!
+          O, yea! O, yea! O!'
+
+This they would sing as a chorus to words which to many would seem
+unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to
+themselves. I have sometimes thought that the mere hearing of those
+songs would do more to impress some minds with the horrible character of
+slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the subject
+could do.
+
+"I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and
+apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I
+neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a
+tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension;
+they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and
+complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone
+was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance
+from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit,
+and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in
+tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now,
+afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of
+feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace
+my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery.
+I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still follow me, to
+deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren
+in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing
+effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on
+allowance day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him,
+in silence, analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of
+his soul; and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be because
+'there is no flesh in his obdurate heart.'
+
+"I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north, to
+find persons who could speak of the singing among slaves as evidence of
+their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceive of a
+greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs
+of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by
+them only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least, such is
+my experience. I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to
+express my happiness. Crying for joy and singing for joy were alike
+uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. The singing of a man cast
+away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as
+evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the
+songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion."
+
+
+
+
+PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE.[16]
+
+
+These volumes have met with as warm a reception "as ever unripe author's
+quick conceit," to use Mr. Taylor's own language, could hope or wish;
+and so deservedly, that the critic's happy task, in examining them, is
+to point out, not what is most to be blamed, but what is most to be
+praised.
+
+With joy we hail a new poet. Star after star has been withdrawn from our
+firmament, and when that of Coleridge set, we seemed in danger of being
+left, at best, to a gray and confounding twilight; but, lo! a "ray of
+pure white light" darts across the obscured depths of ether, and allures
+our eyes and hearts towards the rising orb from which it emanates. Let
+us tremble no more lest our summer pass away without its roses, but
+receive our present visitor as the harbinger of a harvest of delights.
+
+The natural process of the mind in forming a judgment is comparison. The
+office of sound criticism is to teach that this comparison should be
+made, not between the productions of differently-constituted minds, but
+between any one of these and a fixed standard of perfection.
+Nevertheless it is not contrary to the canon to take a survey of the
+labors of many artists with reference to one, if we value them, not
+according to the degree of pleasure we have experienced from them, which
+must always depend upon our then age, the state of the passions and
+relations with life, but according to the success of the artist in
+attaining the object he himself had in view. To illustrate: In the same
+room hang two pictures, Raphael's Madonna and Martin's Destruction of
+Nineveh. A person enters, capable of admiring both, but young,
+excitable; he is delighted with the Madonna, but probably far more so
+with the other, because his imagination is at that time more developed
+than the pure love for beauty which is the characteristic of a taste in
+a higher state of cultivation. He prefers the Martin, because it excites
+in his mind a thousand images of sublimity and terror, recalls the
+brilliancy of Oriental history, and the stern pomp of the old prophetic
+day, and rouses his mind to a high state of action, _then_ as congenial
+with its wants as at a later day would be the feeling of contented
+absorption, of perfect satisfaction with a production of the human soul,
+which one of Raphael's calmly beautiful creations is fitted to cause.
+Now, it would be very unfair for this person to pronounce the Martin
+superior to the Raphael, because it then gave him more pleasure. But if
+he said, the one is intended to excite the imagination, the other to
+gratify the taste, that which fulfils its object most completely must be
+the best, whether it give me most pleasure or no; he would be on the
+right ground, and might consider the two pictures relatively to one
+another, without danger of straying very far from the truth.
+
+_This_ is the ground we would assume in a hasty sketch, which will not,
+we hope, be deemed irrelevant, of the most prominent essays to which the
+last sixty years have given rise in the department of the work now
+before us, previous to stating our opinion of its merits. Many, we are
+aware, ridicule the idea of filling reviews with long dissertations, and
+say they only want brief accounts of such books as are coming out, by
+way of saving time. With such we cannot agree. We think the office of
+the reviewer is, indeed, in part, to point out to the public attention
+deserving works, which might otherwise slumber too long unknown on the
+bookseller's shelves, but still more to present to the reader as large a
+cluster of objects round one point as possible, thus, by suggestion,
+stimulating him to take a broader or more careful view of the subject
+than his indolence or his business would have permitted.
+
+The terms Classical and Romantic, which have so long divided European
+critics, and exercised so powerful an influence upon their decisions,
+are not much known or heeded among us,--as, indeed, _belles-lettres_
+cannot, generally, in our busy state of things, be important or
+influential, as among a less free and more luxurious people, to whom the
+more important truths are proffered through those indirect but alluring
+mediums. Here, where every thing may be spoken or written, and the
+powers that be, abused without ceremony on the very highway, the Muse
+has nothing to do with dagger or bowl; hardly is the censor's wand
+permitted to her hand. Yet is her lyre by no means unheeded, and if it
+is rather by refining our tastes than by modelling our opinions that she
+influences us, yet is that influence far from unimportant. And the time
+is coming, perhaps in our day, we may (if war do not untimely check the
+national progress) even see and temper its beginning, when the broad
+West shall swarm with an active, happy, and cultivated population; when
+the South, freed from the incubus which now oppresses her best energies,
+shall be able to do justice to the resources of her soil and of her
+mind; when the East, gathering from every breeze the riches of the old
+world, shall be the unwearied and loving agent to those regions which
+lie far away from the great deep, our bulwark and our minister. Then
+will the division of labor be more complete; then will a surplus of
+talent be spared from the mart, the forum, and the pulpit; then will the
+fine arts assume their proper dignity, as the expression of what is
+highest and most ethereal in the mind of a people. Then will our
+quarries be thoroughly explored, and furnish materials for stately
+fabrics to adorn the face of all the land, while our ports shall be
+crowded with foreign artists flocking to take lessons in the school of
+American architecture. Then will our floral treasures be arranged into
+harmonious gardens, which, environing tasteful homes, shall dimple all
+the landscape. Then will our Allstons and our Greenoughs preside over
+great academies, and be raised far above any need, except of giving
+outward form to the beautiful ideas which animate them; and ornament
+from the exhaustless stores of genius the marble halls where the people
+meet to rejoice, or to mourn, or where dwell those wise and good whom
+the people delight to honor. Then shall music answer to and exalt the
+national spirit, and the poet's brows shall be graced with the civic as
+well as the myrtle crown. Then shall we have an American mind, as well
+as an American system, and, no longer under the sad necessity of
+exchanging money for thoughts, traffic on perfectly equal terms with the
+other hemisphere. Then--ah, not yet!--shall our literature make its own
+laws, and give its own watchwords; till then we must learn and borrow
+from that of nations who possess a higher degree of cultivation though a
+much lower one of happiness.
+
+The term Classical, used in its narrow sense, implies a servile
+adherence to the Unities, but in its wide and best sense, it means such
+a simplicity of plan, selection of actors and events, such judicious
+limitations on time and range of subject, as may concentrate the
+interest, perfect the illusion, and make the impression most distinct
+and forcible. Although no advocates for the old French school, with its
+slavish obedience to rule, which introduces follies greater than those
+it would guard against, we lay the blame, not on their view of the
+drama, but on the then bigoted nationality of the French mind, which
+converted the Mussulman prophet into a De Retz, the Roman princess into
+a French grisette, and infected the clear and buoyant atmosphere of
+Greece with the vapors of the Seine. We speak of the old French Drama:
+with the modern we do not profess to be acquainted, having met with
+scarcely any specimens in our own bookstores or libraries; but if it
+has been revolutionized with the rest of their literature, it is
+probably as unlike as possible to the former models.
+
+We shall speak of productions in the classical spirit first; because Mr.
+Taylor is a disciple of the other school, though otherwise we should
+have adopted a contrary course.
+
+The most perfect specimens of this style with which we are acquainted
+are the Filippo, the Saul, and the Myrrha of Alfieri; the Wallenstein of
+Schiller; the Tasso and the Iphigenia of Goethe. England furnishes
+nothing of the sort. She is thoroughly Shakspearian.
+
+There is no higher pleasure than to see a genius of a wild, impassioned,
+many-sided eagerness, restraining its exuberance by its sense of
+fitness, taming its extravagance beneath the rule its taste approves,
+exhibiting the soul within soul, and the force of the will over all that
+we inherit. The _abandon_ of genius has its beauty--far more beautiful
+its voluntary submission to wise law. A picture, a description, has
+beauty, the beauty of life; these pictures, these descriptions, arranged
+upon a plan, made subservient to a purpose, have a higher beauty--that
+of the mind of man acting upon life. Art is nature, but nature
+new-modelled, condensed, and harmonized. We are not merely like mirrors,
+to reflect our own times to those more distant. The mind has a light of
+its own, and by it illumines what it re-creates.
+
+This is the ground of our preference for the classical school, and for
+Alfieri beyond all pupils of that school. We hold that if a vagrant bud
+of poesy here and there be blighted by conforming to its rules, our loss
+is more than made up to us by our enjoyment of plan, of symmetry, of the
+triumph of genius over multiplied obstacles.
+
+It has been often said that the dramas of Alfieri contrast directly with
+his character. This is, perhaps, not true; we do but see the depths of
+that volcano which in early days boiled over so fiercely. The wild,
+infatuated youth often becomes the stern, pitiless old man. Alfieri did
+but bend his surplus strength upon literature, and became a despot to
+his own haughty spirit, instead of domineering over those of others.
+
+We have selected his three masterpieces, though he, to himself an
+inexorable critic, has shown no indulgence to his own works, and the
+least successful of those which remain to us, Maria Stuarda, is marked
+by great excellence.
+
+Filippo has been so ably depicted in a work now well known, "Carlyle's
+Life of Schiller," that we need not dwell upon it. All the light of the
+picture, the softer feelings of the hapless Carlos and Elizabeth, is so
+cast, as to make more visible the awing darkness of the tyrant's
+perverted mind, deadened to all virtue by a false religion, cold and
+hopeless as the dungeons of his own Inquisition, and relentless as
+death. Forced by the magic wand of genius into the stifling precincts of
+this mind, horror-struck that we must sympathize with such a state as
+possible to humanity, we rush from the contemplation of the picture, and
+would gladly curtain it over in our hall of imagery forever. Yet
+stigmatize not our poet as a dark master, courting the shade, and hating
+the glad lights which love and hope cast upon human nature. The drama
+has a holy meaning, a patriot moral, and we, above all, should reverence
+him, the aristocrat by birth, by education, and by tastes, whose love of
+liberty could lead him to such conclusions.
+
+In "Saul," a bright rainbow rises, by the aid of the Sun of
+Righteousness, above the commotion of the tempest. David, the faithful,
+the hopeful, combining the aesthetic culture, the winged inspiration of
+the poet with the noble pride of Israel's chosen warrior, contrasts
+finely with the unfortunate Saul, his mind darkened and convulsed by
+jealousy, vain regrets, and fear of the God he has forgotten how to
+love. The other three actors shade in the picture without attracting our
+attention from the two principal personages. The Hebrew spirit breathes
+through the whole. The beauty of the lyric effusions is so generally
+felt, that encomium is needless; we shall only observe that in them
+Alfieri's style, usually so severe, becomes flexible, melodious, and
+glowing; thus we may easily perceive what he might have done, had not
+the simplicity of his genius disdained the foreign aid of ornament upon
+its Doric proportions.
+
+Myrrha is, however, the highest exertion of his genius. The remoteness
+of time and manners, the subject, at once so hackneyed and so revolting,
+these great obstacles he seizes with giant grasp, and moulds them to his
+purpose. Our souls are shaken to the foundation; all every-day barriers
+fall with the great convulsion of passion. We sorrow, we sicken, we die
+with the miserable girl, so pure under her involuntary crime of feeling,
+pursued by a malignant deity in her soul's most sacred recesses, torn
+from all communion with humanity, and the virtue she was framed to
+adore. The perfection of plan, the matchless skill with which every
+circumstance is brought out! The agonizing rapidity with which her
+misery "va camminando al fine"! No! never was higher tragic power
+exhibited; never were love, terror, pity, fused into a more penetrating
+draught! Myrrha is a favorite acting-play in Italy--a fact inconceivable
+to an English or American mind; for (to say nothing of other objections)
+we should think such excess of emotion unbearable. But in those meridian
+climes they drink deep draughts of passion too frequently to taste them
+as we do.
+
+We pass to works of far inferior power, but of greater beauty. We have
+selected Iphigenia and Tasso as the most finished results of their
+author's mature views of art. On his plays in the Romantic style, we
+shall touch in another place. If any one ask why we do not class Faust
+with either, we reply, that is a work without a parallel; one of those
+few originals which have their laws within themselves, and should always
+be discussed singly.
+
+The unity of plan in Iphigenia is perfect. There is one pervading idea.
+The purity of Iphigenia's mind must be kept unsullied, that she may be a
+fit intercessor to the gods in behalf of her polluted family. Goethe,
+in his travels through Italy, saw a picture of a youthful Christian
+saint--Agatha, we think; struck by the radiant purity of her expression,
+he resolved his heathen priestess should not have one thought which
+could revolt the saint of the true religion. This idea is wonderfully
+preserved throughout a drama so classic in its coloring and manners. The
+happiest development of character, an interest in the denouement which
+is only so far tempered by our trust in the lovely heroine, as to permit
+us to enjoy all the minuter beauties on our way, (this the breathless
+interest of Alfieri's dramas hardly allows, on a fourth or fifth
+reading,) exquisite descriptive touches, and expressions of sentiment,
+unequalled softness and harmony of style, distinguish a drama not to be
+surpassed in its own department. Torquato Tasso[17] is of inferior
+general, but greater particular beauty. The two worldly, the two higher
+characters, with that of Alphonso halting between, are shaded with equal
+delicacy and distinctness. The inward-turning imagination of the
+ill-fated bard, and the fantastic tricks it plays with life, are painted
+as only a poet's soul of equal depth, of greater versatility, could have
+painted them. In analysis of the passions, and eloquent descriptions of
+their more hidden workings, some parts may vie with Rousseau; while
+several effusions of feeling are worthy of Tasso's own lyre, with its
+"breaking heartstring's tone." The conduct of the piece being in perfect
+accordance with the plan, gives the satisfaction we have mentioned in
+speaking of Raphael's Madonna.
+
+Schiller's Wallenstein does not strictly belong to this class, yet we
+are disposed to claim it as observing the unities of time and interest;
+the latter especially is entire, notwithstanding the many actors and
+side-scenes which are introduced. Numberless touches of nature arrest
+our attention, bright lights are flashed across many characters, but our
+interest, momently increasing, is for Wallenstein--for the perversion,
+the danger, the ruin of that monarch soul, that falling son of the
+morning. Even that we feel in Max, with his celestial bloom of heart, in
+Thekla's sweet trustfulness, is subsidiary. This work, generally known
+to the reader through Mr. Coleridge's translation, affords an imperfect
+illustration of our meaning. Miss Baillie's plays on the passions hold a
+middle place. Unity of purpose there is--no unity of plan or conduct.
+Bold, fine outline--very bad coloring. Profound, beautifully-expressed
+reflections on the passions--utter want of skill in showing them out; a
+thorough feeling, indeed, of the elements of tragedy,--had but the
+vitalizing energy been added. Her plays are failures; but since she has
+given us nothing else, we cannot but rejoice in having these. 'Tis great
+pity that the authoress of De Montfort and Basil should not have
+attempted a narrative poem.
+
+Coleridge and Byron are signal instances how peculiar is the kind of
+talent required for the drama; one a philosopher, both men of great
+genius and uncommon mastery over language, both conversant with each
+side of human nature, both considering the drama in its true light as
+one of the highest departments of literature, both utterly wanting in
+simplicity, pathos, truth of passion and liveliness of action--in that
+thrilling utterance of heart to heart, whose absence _here_, no other
+excellence can atone for. Of Maturin and Knowles we do not speak,
+because theirs, though very good acting plays, are not, like Mr.
+Taylor's, written for the closet; of Milman, because not sufficiently
+acquainted with his plays. We would here pay a tribute to our countryman
+Hillhouse, whose Hadad, read at a very early age, we remember with much
+delight. Probably our judgment now might be different; but a work which
+could make so deep an impression on any age, must have genius. We are
+sorry we have never since met it in any library or parlor, and are not
+competent to speak of it more particularly.
+
+It will be seen that Mr. Taylor has not attempted the sort of dramatic
+poetry which we consider the highest, but has labored in that which the
+great wizard of Avon adopted, because it lay nearest at hand to clothe
+his spells withal, and consecrated it, with his world-embracing genius,
+to the (in our judgment) no small detriment of his country's taste.
+Having thus declared that we cannot grant him our very highest meed of
+admiration, (though we will not say that he might not win it if he made
+the essay,) we hasten to meet him on his own ground. "Dramatica Poesis
+est veluti Historia spectabilis," is his motto, taken from Bacon, who
+formed his taste on Shakspeare. We would here mention that Goethe's
+earlier works, Goetz von Berlichingen and Egmont are of this
+school--brilliant fragments of past days, ballads acted out, historical
+scenes and personages clustered round a hero; and we have seen that his
+ripened taste preferred the form of Iphigenia and Tasso.
+
+We cannot too strongly express our approbation of the opinions
+maintained in his short preface to this work. We rejoice to see a leader
+coming forward who is likely to un-Hemansize and un-Cornwallize
+literature. We too have been sick, we too have been intoxicated with
+_words_ till we could hardly appreciate thoughts; perhaps our present
+writing shows traces of this Lower-Empire taste; but we have sense
+enough left to welcome the English Phocion, who would regenerate public
+feeling. The candor and modest dignity with which these opinions are
+offered charm us. The remarks upon Shelley, whom we have loved, and do
+still love passing well, brought truth home to us in a definite shape.
+With regard to the lowness of Lord Byron's standard of character, every
+thing indeed has been said which could be but not as Mr. Taylor has
+said it; and we opine that his refined and gentle remarks will find
+their way to ears which have always been deaf to the harsh sarcasms
+unseasoned by wit, which have been current on this topic.
+
+Our author too, notwithstanding his modest caveat, has acted upon his
+principles, and furnished a forcible illustration of their justice. For
+dignity of sentiment, for simplicity of manner, for truth to life, never
+infringing upon respect for the ideal, we look to such a critic, and we
+are not disappointed.
+
+The scene is laid in Ghent, in the fourteenth century. The Flemish
+mobocracy are brought before us with a fidelity and animation surpassing
+those displayed in Egmont. Their barbarism, and the dissimilar, but not
+inferior barbarism of their would-be lords, the bold, bad men, the
+shameless crime and brainless tumult of those days, live before us. Amid
+these clashing elements moves Philip Van Artevelde, with the presence,
+not of a god, but of a great man, too superior to be shaken, too wise to
+be shocked by their rude jarrings. He becomes the leader of his people,
+and despite pestilence, famine, and their own untutored passions, he
+leads them on to victory and power.
+
+In the second part we follow Van Artevelde from his zenith of glory to
+his decline. The tarnishing influence of prosperity on his spirit, and
+its clear radiance again in adversity, are managed as the noble and
+well-defined conception of the character deserves.
+
+The boy king and his courtly, intriguing counsellors are as happily
+portrayed as Vauclaire and the fierce commonalty he ruled, or resisted
+with rope or sword, as the case might demand.
+
+The two loves of Van Artevelde are finely imagined, as types of the two
+states of his character. Both are lovely; the one how elevated! the
+other how pity-moving in her loveliness! On the interlude of Elena we
+must be allowed to linger fondly, though the author's self condemn our
+taste.
+
+We are no longer partial to the machinery of portents and presentiments.
+Wallenstein's were the last we liked, but Van Artevelde's make good
+poetry, and have historical vouchers. They remind us of those of Fergus
+Mac Ivor.
+
+We shall extract a speech of Van Artevelde's, in which a leading idea of
+the work is expressed.
+
+                                                Father,--
+
+    So! with the chivalry of Christendom
+    I wage my war,--no nation for my friend,
+    Yet in each nation having hosts of friends.
+    The bondsmen of the world, that to their lords
+    Are bound with chains of iron, unto me
+    Are knit by their affections. Be it so.
+    From kings and nobles will I seek no more
+    Aid, friendship, or alliance. With the poor
+    I make my treaty; and the heart of man
+    Sets the broad seal of its allegiance there,
+    And ratifies the compact. Vassals, serfs,
+    Ye that are bent with unrequited toil,
+    Ye that have whitened in the dungeon's darkness,
+    Through years that know not change of night nor day,
+    Tatterdemalions, lodgers in the hedge,
+    Lean beggars with raw backs, and rumbling maws,
+    Whose poverty was whipped for starving you,--
+    I hail you my auxiliars and allies,
+    The only potentates whose help I crave!
+    Richard of England, thou hast slain Jack Straw,
+    But thou hast left unquenched the vital spark
+    That set Jack Straw on fire.   The spirit lives;
+    And as when he of Canterbury fell,
+    His seat was filled by some no better clerk,
+    So shall John Ball, that slew him, be replaced.
+
+Fain would we extract Van Artevelde's reply to the French envoy--the
+oration of the dying Van den Bosch in the market-place of Ypres, the
+last scene between the hero and the double-dyed dastard and traitor, Sir
+Heurant of Heurlee, and many, many more, had we but space enough.
+
+We have purposely avoided telling the story, as is usual in an article
+of this kind, because we wish that every one should buy and read Van
+Artevelde, instead of resting content with the canvas side of the
+carpet.
+
+A few words more, and we shall conclude these, we fear, already too
+prolonged remarks. We would compare Mr. Taylor with the most applauded
+of living dramatists, the Italian Alessandro Manzoni.
+
+To wide and accurate historical knowledge, to purity of taste, to the
+greatest elevation of sentiment, Manzoni unites uncommon lyric power,
+and a beautiful style in the most beautiful language of the modern
+world. The conception of both his plays is striking, the detached
+beauties of thought and imagery are many; but where are the life, the
+glow, the exciting march of action, the thorough display of character
+which charm us in Van Artevelde? We _live_ at Ghent and Senlis; we
+_think_ of Italy. Van Artevelde dies,--and our hearts die with him. When
+Elena says, "The body,--O!" we could echo that "long, funereal note,"
+and weep as if the sun of heroic nobleness were quenched from our own
+horizon. "Carmagnola, Adelchis die,"--we calmly shut the book, and think
+how much we have enjoyed it. Manzoni can deeply feel goodness and
+greatness, but he cannot localize them in the contours of life before
+our eyes. His are capital sketches, poems of a deep meaning,--but this,
+yes! this _is_ a drama.
+
+We cannot conclude more fitly, nor inculcate a precept on the reader
+more forcibly, than in Mr. Taylor's own words, with a slight alteration:
+"To say that I admire him is to admit that I owe him much; for
+admiration is never thrown away upon the mind of him who feels it,
+except when it is misdirected or blindly indulged. There is perhaps
+nothing which more enlarges or enriches the mind than the disposition to
+lay it genially open to impressions of pleasure, from the exercise of
+every species of talent; nothing by which it is more impoverished than
+the habit of undue depreciation. What is puerile, pusillanimous, or
+wicked, it can do us no good to admire; but let us admire all that can
+be admired without debasing the dispositions or stultifying the
+understanding."
+
+
+
+
+UNITED STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION.
+
+
+Slight as the intercourse held by the Voyager with the South Sea Islands
+is, his narrative is always more prized by us than those of the
+missionary and traders, who, though they have better opportunity for
+full and candid observation, rarely use it so well, because their minds
+are biased towards their special objects. It is deeply interesting to us
+to know how much and how little God has accomplished for the various
+nations of the larger portion of the earth, before they are brought into
+contact with the civilization of Europe and the Christian religion. To
+suppose it so little as most people do, is to impugn the justice of
+Providence. We see not how any one can contentedly think that such vast
+multitudes of living souls have been left for thousands of years without
+manifold and great means of instruction and happiness. To appreciate
+justly how much these have availed them, to know how far they are
+competent to receive new benefits, is essential to the philanthropist as
+a means of aiding them, no less than it is important to one philosopher
+who wishes to see the universe as God made it, not as some men think he
+OUGHT TO have made it.
+
+The want of correct knowledge, and a fair appreciation of the
+uncultivated man as he stands, is a cause why even the good and generous
+fail to aid him, and contact with Europe has proved so generally more of
+a curse than a blessing. It is easy enough to see why our red man, to
+whom the white extends the Bible or crucifix with one hand, and the
+rum-bottle with the other, should look upon Jesus as only one more
+Manitou, and learn nothing from his precepts or the civilization
+connected with them. The Hindoo, the South American Indian, who knew
+their teachers first as powerful robbers, and found themselves called
+upon to yield to violence not only their property, personal freedom, and
+peace, but also the convictions and ideas that had been rooted and
+growing in their race for ages, could not be otherwise than degraded and
+stupefied by a change effected through such violence and convulsion. But
+not only those who came with fire and sword, crying, "Believe or die;"
+"Understand or we will scourge you;" "Understand _and_ we will only
+plunder and tyrannize over you,"--not only these ignorant despots,
+self-deceiving robbers, have failed to benefit the people they dared
+esteem more savage than themselves, but the worthy and generous have
+failed from want of patience and an expanded intelligence. Would you
+speak to a man? first learn his language. Would you have the tree grow?
+learn the nature of the soil and climate in which you plant it. Better
+days are coming, we do hope, as to these matters--days in which the new
+shall be harmonized with the old, rather than violently rent asunder
+from it; when progress shall be accomplished by gentle evolution, as the
+stem of the plant grows up, rather than by the blasting of rocks, and
+blindness or death of the miners.
+
+The knowledge which can lead to such results must be collected, as all
+true knowledge is, from the love of it. In the healthy state of the
+mind, the state of elastic youth, which would be perpetual in the mind
+if it were nobly disciplined and animated by immortal hopes, it likes to
+learn just how the facts are, seeking truth for its own sake, not
+doubting that the design and cause will be made clear in time. A mind in
+such a state will find many facts ready for its use in these volumes
+relative to the South Sea Islanders, and other objects of interest.
+
+
+
+
+STORY-BOOKS FOR THE HOT WEATHER.
+
+
+Does any shame still haunt the age of bronze--a shame, the lingering
+blush of an heroic age, at being caught in doing any thing merely for
+amusement? Is there a public still extant which needs to excuse its
+delinquencies by the story of a man who liked to lie on the sofa all day
+and read novels, though he could, at time of need, write the gravest
+didactics? Live they still, those reverend seigniors, the object of
+secret smiles to our childish years, who were obliged to apologize for
+midnight oil spent in conning story-books by the "historic bearing" of
+the novel, or the "correct and admirable descriptions of certain
+countries, with climate, scenery, and manners therein contained," wheat,
+for which they, industrious students, were willing to winnow bushels of
+frivolous love-adventures? We know not, but incline to think the world
+is now given over to frivolity so far as to replace by the novel the
+minstrel's ballad, the drama, and even those games of agility and
+strength in which it once sought pastime. For, indeed, _mere_ pass-time
+is sometimes needed; the nursery legend comprised a primitive truth of
+the understanding and the wisdom of nations in the lines,--
+
+    "All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy,
+    But all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
+
+We have reversed the order of arrangement to suit our present purpose.
+For we, O useful reader! being ourselves so far of the useful class as
+to be always wanted somewhere, have also to fight a good fight for our
+amusements, either with the foils of excuse, like the reverend seigniors
+above mentioned, or with the sharp weapons of argument, or maintenance
+of a view of our own without argument, which we take to be the sharpest
+weapon of all.
+
+Thus far do we defer to the claims of the human race, with its myriad of
+useful errands to be done, that we read most of our novels in the long
+sunny days, which call all beings to chirp and nestle, or fly abroad as
+the birds do, and permit the very oxen to ruminate gently in the
+just-mown fields.
+
+On such days it was well, we think, to read "Sybil, or the Two Worlds."
+We have always felt great interest in D'Israeli. He is one of the many
+who share the difficulty of our era, which Carlyle says, quoting, we
+believe, from his Master, consists in unlearning the false in order to
+arrive at the true. We think these men, when they have once taken their
+degree, can be of far greater use to their brethren than those who have
+always kept their instincts unperverted.
+
+In "Vivian Grey," the young D'Israeli, an educated Englishman, but with
+the blood of sunnier climes glowing and careering in his veins, gave us
+the very flower and essence of factitious life. That book sparkled and
+frothed like champagne; like that, too, it produced no dull and imbecile
+state by its intoxication, but one witty, genial, spiritual even. A
+deep, soft melancholy thrilled through its gay mockeries; the eyes of
+nature glimmered through the painted mask, and a nobler ambition was
+felt beneath the follies of petty success and petty vengeance. Still,
+the chief merit of the book, as a book, was the light and decided touch
+with which its author took up the follies and poesies of the day, and
+brought them all before us. The excellence of the foreign part, with its
+popular superstitions, its deep passages in the glades of the summer
+woods, and above all, the capital sketch of the prime minister with his
+original whims and secret history of romantic sorrows, were beyond the
+appreciation of most readers.
+
+Since then, D'Israeli has never written any thing to be compared with
+this first jet of the fountain of his mind in the sunlight of morning.
+The "Young Duke" was full of brilliant sketches, and showed a soul
+struggling, blinded by the gaudy mists of fashion, for realities. The
+"Wondrous Tale of Alroy" showed great power of conception, though in
+execution it is a failure. "Henrietta Temple" Mr. Willis, with his usual
+justness of perception, has praised, as containing a collection of the
+best love-letters ever written; and which show that excellence, signal
+and singular among the literary tribe, of which D'Israeli never fails,
+of daring to write a thing down exactly as it rises in his mind.
+
+Now he has come to be a leader of Young England, and a rooted plant upon
+her soil. If the performance of his prime do not entirely correspond
+with the brilliant lights of its dawn, it is yet aspiring, and with a
+large kernel of healthy nobleness in it. D'Israeli shows now not only
+the heart, but the soul of a man. He cares for all men; he wishes to
+care wisely for all.
+
+"Coningsby" was full of talent, yet its chief interest lay in this
+aspiration after reality, and the rich materials taken from contemporary
+life. There is nothing in it good after the original manner of
+D'Israeli, except the sketches of Eton, and above all, the noble
+schoolboy's letter. The picture of the Jew, so elaborately limned, is
+chiefly valuable as affording keys to so many interesting facts.
+
+"Sybil" is an attempt to do justice to the claims of the laboring
+classes, and investigate the duties of those in whose hands the money is
+at present, towards the rest. It comes to no result: it only exhibits
+some truths in a more striking light than heretofore. D'Israeli shows
+the taint of old prejudice in the necessity he felt to marry the
+daughter of the people to one _not_ of the people. Those worthy to be
+distinguished must still have good blood, or rather old blood, for what
+is called good needs now to be renovated from a homelier source. But his
+leaders must have _old_ blood; the fresh ichor, the direct flow from
+heaven, is not enough to animate their lives to the deeds now needed.
+
+D'Israeli is another of those who give testimony in behalf of our
+favorite idea that a leading feature of the new era will be in new and
+higher developments of the feminine character. He looks at women as a
+man does who is truly in love. He does not paint them well, that is, not
+with profound fidelity to nature. But, ideally, he sees them well, for
+they are to him the inspirers and representatives of what is holy,
+tender, and simply great.
+
+There are good sketches of the manufacturers at home, not the overseers,
+but the real makers.
+
+Sue is a congenial activity with D'Israeli, but with clearer notions of
+what he wants. His "De Rohan" is a poor book, though it contains some
+things excellent. But it is faulty,--even more so than is usual with
+him, in heavy exaggerations, and is less redeemed by brilliant effects,
+good schemes, and lively strains of feeling. The wish to unmask Louis
+XIV. is defeated by the hatred with which the character inspired him,
+the liberal of the nineteenth century. The Grand Monarque was really
+brutally selfish and ignorant, as Sue represents him; but then there
+_was_ a native greatness, which justified, in some degree, the illusion
+he diffused, and which falsifies all Sue's representation. It is not by
+an inventory of facts or traits that what is most vital in character,
+and which makes its due impression on contemporaries, can be apprehended
+or depicted. "De Rohan" is worth reading for particulars of an
+interesting period, put together with accuracy and with a sense of
+physiological effects, if not of the spiritual realities that they
+represented.
+
+"Self, by the Author of Cecil," is one of the worst of a paltry class of
+novels--those which aim at representing the very dregs in a social life,
+now at its lowest ebb. If it has produced a sensation, that only shows
+the poverty of life among those who can be interested in it. I have
+known more life lived in a day among factory girls, or in a village
+school, than informs these volumes, with all their great pretension and
+affected vivacity. It is not worth our while to read this class of
+English novels; they are far worse than the French, morally as well as
+mentally. This has no merits as to the development of character or
+exposition of motives; it is a poor, external, lifeless thing.
+
+"Dashes at Life," by N. P. Willis. The life of Mr. Willis is too
+European for him to have a general or permanent fame in America. We need
+a life of our own, and a literature of our own. Those writers who are
+dearest to us, and really most interesting, are those who are at least
+rooted to the soil. If they are not great enough to be the prophets of
+the new era, they at least exhibit the features of their native clime,
+and the complexion given by its native air. But Mr. Willis is a son of
+Europe, and his writings can interest only the fashionable world of this
+country, which, by imitating Europe, fails entirely of a genius, grace,
+and invention of its own. Still, in their way, they are excellent. They
+are most lively pictures, showing the fine natural organization of the
+writer, on whom none, the slightest symptom of what he is looking for,
+is thrown away; sparkling with bold, light wit, succinct, and colored
+with glow, and for a full light. Some of them were new to us, and we
+read them through, missing none of the words, and laughed with a full
+heart, and without one grain of complaisance, which is much, very much,
+to say in these days. We said these sketches would not have a permanent
+fame, and yet we may be wrong. The new, full, original, radiant,
+American life may receive them as an heirloom from this transition state
+we are in now, and future generations may stare at the mongrel products
+of Saratoga, and maidens still laugh till they cry at the "Letter of
+Jane S. to her Spirit-Bridegroom."
+
+All these story-books show, even to the languor of the hottest day, the
+solemn signs of revolution. Life has become too factitious; it has no
+longer a leg left to stand upon, and cannot be carried much farther in
+this way. England--ah! who can resist visions of phalansteries in every
+park, and the treasures of art turned into public galleries for the use
+of the artificers who will no longer be unwashed, but raised and
+educated by the refinements of sufficient leisure, and the instructions
+of genius. England must glide, or totter, or fall into revolution; there
+is not room for such selfish elves, and unique young dukes, in a country
+so crowded with men, and with those who ought to be women, and are
+turned into work-tools. There are very impressive hints on this last
+topic in "Sybil, or the Two Worlds," (of the rich and poor.) God has
+time to remember the design with which he made this world also.
+
+
+
+
+SHELLEY'S POEMS[18]
+
+
+We are very glad to see this handsome copy of Shelley ready for those
+who have long been vainly inquiring at all the bookstores for such a
+one.
+
+In Europe the fame of Shelley has risen superior to the clouds that
+darkened its earlier days, hiding his true image from his fellow-men,
+and from his own sad eyes oftentimes the common light of day. As a
+thinker, men have learned to pardon what they consider errors in opinion
+for the sake of singular nobleness, purity, and love in his main
+tendency or spirit. As a poet, the many faults of his works having been
+acknowledged, there are room and place to admire his far more numerous
+and exquisite beauties.
+
+The heart of the man, few, who have hearts of their own, refuse to
+reverence, and many, even of devoutest Christians, would not refuse the
+book which contains Queen Mab as a Christmas gift. For it has been
+recognized that the founder of the Christian church would have suffered
+one to come unto him, who was in faith and love so truly what he sought
+in a disciple, without regard to the form his doctrine assumed.
+
+The qualities of his poetry have often been analyzed, and the severer
+critics, impatient of his exuberance, or unable to use their accustomed
+spectacles in the golden mist that broods over all he has done, deny him
+high honors; but the soul of aspiring youth, untrammelled by the canons
+of taste, and untamed by scholarly discipline, swells into rapture at
+his lyric sweetness, finds ambrosial refreshment from his plenteous
+fancies, catches fire at his daring thought, and melts into boundless
+weeping at his tender sadness--the sadness of a soul betrothed to an
+ideal unattainable in this present sphere.
+
+For ourselves, we dispute not with the _doctrinaires_ or the critics. We
+cannot speak dispassionately of an influence that has been so dear to
+us. Nearer than the nearest companions of life actual has Shelley been
+to us. Many other great ones have shone upon us, and all who ever did so
+shine are still resplendent in our firmament, for our mental life has
+not been broken and contradictory, but thus far we "see what we
+foresaw." But Shelley seemed to us an incarnation of what was sought in
+the sympathies and desires of instinctive life, a light of dawn, and a
+foreshowing of the weather of this day.
+
+When still in childish years, the "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty" fell in
+our way. In a green meadow, skirted by a rich wood, watered by a lovely
+rivulet, made picturesque by a mill a little farther down, sat a party
+of young persons gayer than, and almost as inventive, as those that told
+the tales recorded by Boccaccio. They were passing a few days in a scene
+of deep seclusion, there uncared for by tutor or duenna, and with no bar
+of routine to check the pranks of their gay, childish fancies. Every day
+they assumed parts which through the waking hours must be acted out. One
+day it was the characters in one of Richardson's novels; and most
+solemnly we "my deared" each other with richest brocade of affability,
+and interchanged in long, stiff phrase our sentimental secrets and prim
+opinions. But to-day we sought relief in personating birds or insects;
+and now it was the Libellula who, tired of wild flitting and darting,
+rested on the grassy bank and read aloud the "Hymn to Intellectual
+Beauty," torn by chance from the leaf of a foreign magazine.
+
+It was one of those chances which we ever remember as the interposition
+of some good angel in our fate. Solemn tears marked the change of mood
+in our little party and with the words
+
+    "Have I not kept my vow?"
+
+began a chain of thoughts whose golden links still bind the years
+together.
+
+Two or three years passed. The frosty Christmas season came; the trees
+cracked with their splendid burden of ice, the old wooden country house
+was banked up with high drifts of the beautiful snow, and the Libellula
+became the owner of Shelley's Poems. It was her Christmas gift, and for
+three days and three nights she ceased not to extract its sweets; and
+how familiar still in memory every object seen from the chair in which
+she sat enchanted during those three days, memorable to her as those of
+July to the French nation! The fire, the position of the lamp, the
+variegated shadows of that alcoved room, the bright stars up to which
+she looked with such a feeling of congeniality from the contemplation of
+this starry soul,--O, could but a De Quincey describe those days in
+which the bridge between the real and ideal rose unbroken! He would not
+do it, though, as _Suspiria de Profundis_, but as sighs of joy upon the
+mountain height.
+
+The poems we read then are what every one still reads, the "Julian and
+Maddalo," with its profound revelations of the inward life; "Alastor,"
+the soul sweeping like a breeze through nature; and some of the minor
+poems. "Queen Mab," the "Prometheus," and other more formal works we
+have not been able to read much. It was not when he tried to express
+opinions which the wrongs of the world had put into his head, but when
+he abandoned himself to the feelings which nature had implanted in his
+own breast, that Shelley seemed to us so full of inspiration, and it is
+so still.
+
+In reply to all that can be urged against him by people of whom we do
+not wish to speak ill,--for surely "they know not what they do,"--we are
+wont simply to refer to the fact that he was the only man who redeemed
+the human race from suspicion to the embittered soul of Byron. "Why,"
+said Byron, "he is a man who would willingly die for others. _I am sure
+of it._"
+
+Yes! balance that against all the ill you can think of him that he was
+a man able to live wretched for the sake of speaking sincerely what he
+supposed to be truth, willing to die for the good of his fellows!
+
+Mr. Foster has spoken well of him as a man: "Of Shelley's personal
+character it is enough to say that it was wholly pervaded by the same
+unbounded and unquestioning love for his fellow-men--the same holy and
+fervid hope in their ultimate virtue and happiness--the same scorn of
+baseness and hatred of oppression--which beam forth in all his writings
+with a pure and constant light. The theory which he wrote was the
+practice which his whole life exemplified. Noble, kind, generous,
+passionate, tender, with a courage greater than the courage of the chief
+of warriors, for it could _endure_--these were the qualities in which
+his life was embalmed."
+
+
+
+
+FESTUS.[19]
+
+
+We are right glad to see this beloved stranger domesticated among us.
+Yet there are queer little circumstances that herald the introduction.
+The poet is a barrister at law!--well! it is always worthy of note when
+a man is not hindered by study of human law from knowledge of divine;
+which last is all that concerns the poet. Then the preface to the
+American edition closes with this discreet remark: "It is perfectly SAFE
+to pronounce it (the poem) one of the most powerful and splendid
+productions of the age." Dear New England! how purely that was worthy
+thee, region where the tyranny of public opinion is carried to a
+perfection of minute scrutiny beyond what it ever was before in any age
+or place, though the ostracism be administered with the mildness and
+refinement fit for this age. Dear New England! yes! it is _safe_ to say
+that the poem is good; whatever Mrs. Grundy may think, she will not have
+it burned by the hangman if it is not. But it may not be _discreet_,
+because she can, if she sees fit, exile its presence from bookstores,
+libraries, centre tables, and all mention of its existence from lips
+polite, and of thine also, who hast dared to praise it, on peril of
+turning all surrounding eyes to lead by its utterance. This kind of
+gentle excommunication thou mayst not be prepared to endure, O
+preface-writer! And we should greatly fear that thou wert deceived in
+thy fond security, for "Festus" is a bold book--in respect of freedom of
+words, a boldest book--also it reveals the solitudes of hearts with
+unexampled sincerity, and remorselessly lays bare human nature in its
+naked truth--but for the theology of the book. That may save it, and
+none the less for all it shows of the depravity of human nature. It is
+through many pages and leaves what is technically praised as "a serious
+book." A friend went into a bookstore to select presents for persons
+with whom she was about to part, and among other things requested the
+shopman to "show her some serious books in handsome binding." He looked
+into several, and then, struck by passages here and there, offered her
+the "Letters of Lady M. W. Montague." She assuring him that it would not
+be safe to make use of this work, he offered her a miniature edition of
+Shakspeare, as "a book containing many excellent things, though you had
+to wade through a great deal of rubbish to get at them."
+
+We fear the reader will have to wade through a great deal of "rubbish"
+in "Festus" before he gets at the theology. However, there it is, in
+sufficient quantities to give dignity to any book. In seriousness, it
+may compete with Pollok's "Course of Time." In "splendor and power," we
+feel ourselves safe in saying that, as sure as the sun shines, it cannot
+be outdone in the English tongue, thus far, short of Milton. So there is
+something for all classes of readers, and we hope it will get to their
+eyes, albeit Boston books are not likely to be detected by all eyes to
+which they belong.
+
+To ourselves the theology of this writer, and the conscious design of
+the poem, have little interest. They seem to us, like the color of his
+skin and hair, the result of the circumstances under which he was born.
+Certain opinions came in his way early, and became part of the body of
+his thought. But what interests us is not these, but what is deepest,
+universal--the soul of that body. To us the poem is
+
+    "... full of great dark meanings like the sea:"
+
+and it is these, the deep experiences and inspirations of the immortal
+man, that engage us.
+
+Even the poem shows how large is his nature--its most careless utterance
+full of grandeur, its tamest of bold nobleness. This, that truly engages
+us, he spoke of more forcibly when the book first went forth to the
+world:--
+
+    "Read this, world. He who writes is dead to thee,
+    But still lives in these leaves. He spake inspired;
+    Night and day, thought came unhelped, undesired,
+    Like blood to his heart. The course of study he
+    Went through was of the soul-rack. The degree
+    He took was high; it was wise wretchedness.
+    He suffered perfectly, and gained no less
+    A prize than, in his own torn heart, to see
+    A few bright seeds; he sowed them, hoped them truth.
+    The autumn of that seed is in these pages."
+
+Such is, in our belief, the true theologian, the learner of God, who
+does not presumptuously expect at this period of growth to bind down all
+that is to be known of divine things in a system, a set of words, but
+considers that he is only spelling the first lines of a work, whose
+perusal shall last him through eternity. Such a one is not in a hurry to
+declare that the riddles of Fate and of Time are solved, for he knows it
+is not calling them so that will make them so. His soul does not decline
+the great and persevering labors that are to develop its energies. He
+has faith to study day by day. Such is the practice of the author of
+Festus, whenever he is truly great. When he shows to us the end and plan
+of all things, we feel that he only hides them from us. He speaks only
+his wishes. But when he tells us of what he does really know, the moods
+and aspirations of fiery youth to which all things are made present in
+foresight and foretaste,--when he shows us the temptations of the lonely
+soul pining for knowledge, but unable to feel the love that alone can
+bestow it,--then he is truly great, and the strings of life thrill
+oftentimes to their sublimest, sweetest music.
+
+We admire in this author the unsurpassed force and distinctness with
+which he casts out single thoughts and images. Each is thrown before us
+fresh, deep in its impress as if just snatched from the forge. We admire
+not less his vast flow, his sustained flight. His is a rich and spacious
+genius; it gives us room; it is a palace home; we need not economize our
+joys; blessed be the royalty that welcomes us so freely.
+
+In simple transposition of the thought from the mind to the paper, that
+wonder, even rarer than perfect,--that is, simple expression, through
+the motions of the body, of the motions of the soul,--we dare to say
+_no_ writer excels him. Words are no veil between us and him, but a
+luminous cloud that upbears us both together.
+
+So in touches of nature, in the tones of passion; he is absolute. There
+is nothing better, where it is good; we have the very thing itself.
+
+We are told by the critics that he has no ear, and, indeed, when we
+listen for such, we perceive blemishes enough in the movement of his
+line. But we did not perceive it before, more than, when the AEolian was
+telling the secrets of that most spirit-like minister of Nature that
+bloweth where it listeth, and no man can trace it, we should attempt to
+divide the tones and pauses into regular bars, and be disturbed when we
+could not make a tune.
+
+England has only two poets now that can be named near him: these two are
+Tennyson and the author of "Philip Van Artevelde." Tennyson is all that
+Bailey is not in melody and voluntary finish, having no less than a
+Greek moderation in declining all undertakings he is not sure of
+completing. Taylor, noble, an earnest seer, a faithful narrator of what
+he sees, firm and sure, sometimes deep and exquisite, but in energy and
+grandeur no more than Tennyson to be named beside the author of Festus.
+In inspiration, in prophecy, in those flashes of the sacred fire which
+reveal the secret places where Time is elaborating the marvels of
+Nature, he stands alone. It is just true what Ebenezer Elliott says,
+that "Festus contains poetry enough to set up fifty poets,"--ay! even
+such poets, so far as richness of thought and imagery are concerned, as
+the two noble bards we have named.
+
+But we need call none less to make him greater, whose liberal soul is
+alive to every shade of beauty, every token of greatness, and whose main
+stress is to seek a soul of goodness in things evil. The book is a
+precious, even a sacred book, and we could say more of it, had we not
+years ago vented our enthusiasm when it was in first full flow.
+
+
+
+
+FRENCH NOVELISTS OF THE DAY.[20]
+
+
+WE hear much lamentation among good people at the introduction of so
+many French novels among us, corrupting, they say, our youth by pictures
+of decrepit vice and prurient crime, such as would never, otherwise, be
+dreamed of here, and corrupting it the more that such knowledge is so
+precocious--for the same reason that a boy may be more deeply injured by
+initiation into wickedness than a man, for he is not only robbed of his
+virtue, but prevented from developing the strength that might restore
+it. But it is useless to bewail what is the inevitable result of the
+movement of our time. Europe must pour her corruptions, no less than her
+riches, on our shores, both in the form of books and of living men. She
+cannot, if she would, check the tide which bears them hitherward; no
+defences are possible, on our vast extent of shore, that can preclude
+their ingress. We have exulted in premature and hasty growth; we must
+brace ourselves to bear the evils that ensue. Our only hope lies in
+rousing, in our own community, a soul of goodness, a wise aspiration,
+that shall give us strength to assimilate this unwholesome food to
+better substance, or cast off its contaminations. A mighty sea of life
+swells within our nation, and, if there be salt enough, foreign bodies
+shall not have power to breed infection there.
+
+We have had some opportunity to observe that the worst works offered are
+rejected. On the steamboats we have seen translations of vile books,
+bought by those who did not know from the names of their authors what
+to expect, torn, after a cursory glance at their contents, and scattered
+to the winds. Not even the all but all-powerful desire to get one's
+money's worth, since it had once been paid, could contend against the
+blush of shame that rose on the cheek of the reader.
+
+It would be desirable for our people to know something of these writers,
+and of the position they occupy abroad; for the nature of their
+circulation, rather than its extent, might be the guide both to
+translator and buyer. The object of the first is generally money; of the
+last, amusement. But the merest mercenary might prefer to pass his time
+in translating a good book, and our imitation of Europe does not yet go
+so far that the American milliner can be depended on to copy any thing
+from the Parisian grisette, except her cap.
+
+We have just been reading "Le Pere Goriot," Balzac's most celebrated
+work; a remarkable production, to which Paris alone, at the present day,
+could have given birth.
+
+In other of his works, I have admired his skill in giving the minute
+traits of passion, and his intrepidity, not inferior to that of Le Sage
+and Cervantes, in facing the dark side of human nature. He reminds one
+of the Spanish romancers in the fearlessness with which he takes mud
+into his hands, and dips his foot in slime. We cannot endure this when
+done, as by most Frenchmen, with an air of recklessness and gayety; but
+Balzac does it with the stern manliness of a Spaniard.
+
+But the conception of this work is so sublime, that, though the details
+are even more revolting than in his others, you can bear it, and would
+not have missed your walk through the Catacombs, though the light of day
+seems stained afterwards with the mould of horror and dismay.
+
+Balzac, we understand, is one of that wretched class of writers who live
+by the pen. In Paris they count now by thousands, and their leaves fall
+from the press thick-rustling like the November forest. I had heard of
+this class not without envy, for I had been told pretty tales of the gay
+poverty of the Frenchman--how he will live in garrets, on dry bread,
+salad, and some wine, and spend all his money on a single good suit of
+clothes, in which, when the daily labor of copying music, correcting the
+press, or writing poems or novels, is over, he sallies forth to enjoy
+the theatre, the social soiree, or the humors of the streets and cafes,
+as gay, as keenly alive to observation and enjoyment, as if he were to
+return to a well-stocked table and a cheerful hearth, encompassed by
+happy faces.
+
+I thought the intellectual Frenchman, in the extreme of want, never sunk
+into the inert reverie of the lazzaroni, nor hid the vulture of famine
+beneath the mantle of pride with the bitter mood of a Spaniard. But
+Balzac evidently is familiar with that which makes the agony of
+poverty--its vulgarity.
+
+Dirt, confusion, shabby expedients, living to live,--these are what make
+poverty terrible and odious, and in these Balzac would seem to have been
+steeped to the very lips.
+
+These French writers possess the art of plunging at once _in medias
+res_, and Balzac places you, in the twinkling of an eye, in one of the
+lowest boarding-houses of Paris. At first all is dirt, hubbub, and
+unsavory odors; but from the vapors of the caldron evolves a web of
+many-colored life, of terrible pathos, and original humor, not
+unenlivened by pale golden threads of beauty, which had better never
+been.
+
+All the characters are excellently drawn: the harpy mistress of the
+house; Mlle. Michonnet the spy, and her imbecile lover; Mme. Coutuner,
+with her purblind strivings after virtue, and her real, though meagre
+respectability; Vautrim, the disguised galley-slave, with his cynical
+philosophy and Bonaparte character; and the young students of medicine,
+cheering the dense fog with the scintillations of their wit, and the
+joyousness and petulance with which their age meets the most adverse
+circumstances, at least in France!
+
+The connection between this abject poverty and the highest luxury of
+Parisian life is made naturally by Eugene, connected to his misfortune
+with a noble family, of which his own is a poor and young branch,
+studying a profession and sighing to live like a duke, and _Le Pere
+Goriot_, who has stripped himself of all his wealth for his daughters,
+who are more naturally unnatural than those of Lear. The transitions are
+made with as much swiftness as a curtain is drawn upon the stage, yet
+with no feeling of abruptness, so skilfully are the incidents woven into
+one another.
+
+And be it recorded to the credit of Balzac, that, much as he appears to
+have suffered from the want of wealth, the vices which pollute it are
+represented with as terrible force as those of poverty.
+
+The book affords play for similar powers, and brings a similar range of
+motives into action with Scott's "Fortunes of Nigel." If less rich than
+that work, it is more original, and has a force of pencil all its own.
+
+Insight and a master's hand are admirable throughout; but the product of
+genius is _Le Pere Goriot_. And, wonderful to relate, this character is
+as much ennobled, made as poetical by abandonment to a single instinct,
+as others by the force of will. Prometheus, chained on his rock, and
+giving his heart to the birds of prey for aims so majestic, is scarcely
+a more affecting, a more reverent object, than the rich confectioner
+whose intellect has never been awakened at all, except in the way of
+buying and selling, and who gives up his acuteness even there, and
+commits such unspeakable follies through paternal love; a _blind_ love
+too, nowise superior to that of the pelican!
+
+Analyze it as you will, see the difference between this and the instinct
+of the artist or the philanthropist, and it produces on your mind the
+same impression of a present divinity. And scarce any tears could be
+more sacred than those which choke the breath at the death-bed of this
+man, who forgot that he was a man, to be wholly a father, this poor,
+mad, stupid, father Goriot. I know nothing in fiction to surpass the
+terrible, unpretending pathos of this scene, nor the power with which
+the mistaken benediction given to the two medical students whom he takes
+for his daughters, is redeemed from burlesque.
+
+The scepticism as to _virtue_ in this book is fearful, but the love for
+innocence and beautiful instincts casts a softening tint over the gloom.
+We never saw any thing sweeter or more natural than the letters of the
+mother and sisters of Eugene, when they so delightfully sent him the
+money of which he had been wicked enough to plunder them. These traits
+of domestic life are given with much grace and delicacy of sentiment.
+
+How few writers can paint _abandon_, without running into exaggeration!
+and here the task was one of peculiar difficulty. It seemed as if the
+writer were conscious enough of his power to propose to himself the most
+difficult task he could undertake.
+
+A respectable reviewer in "Les Deux Mondes" would wish us to think that
+there is no life in Paris like what Balzac paints; but we can never
+believe that: evidently it is "too true," though we doubt not there is
+more redemption than he sees.
+
+But this book was too much for our nerves, and would be, probably, for
+those of most people accustomed to breathe a healthier atmosphere.
+
+Balzac has been a very fruitful writer, and, as he is fond of jugglers'
+tricks of every description, and holds nothing earnest or sacred, he is
+vain of the wonderful celerity with which some of his works, and those
+quite as good as any, have been written. They seem to have been
+conceived, composed, and written down with that degree of speed with
+which it is possible to lay pen to paper. Indeed, we think he cannot be
+surpassed in the ready and sustained command of his resources. His
+almost unequalled quickness and fidelity of eye, both as to the
+disposition of external objects, and the symptoms of human passion,
+combined with a strong memory, have filled his mind with materials, and
+we doubt not that if his thoughts could be put into writing with the
+swiftness of thought, he would give us one of his novels every week in
+the year.
+
+Here end our praises of Balzac; what he is, as a man, in daily life, we
+know not. He must originally have had a heart, or he could not read so
+well the hearts of others; perhaps there are still private ties that
+touch him. But as a writer, never was the modern Mephistopheles, "the
+spirit that denieth," more worthily represented than by Balzac.
+
+He combines the spirit of the man of science with that of the amateur
+collector. He delights to analyze, to classify; there is no anomaly too
+monstrous, no specimen too revolting, to insure his ardent but
+passionless scrutiny. But then he has taste and judgment to know what is
+fair, rare, and exquisite. He takes up such an object carefully, and
+puts it in a good light. But he has no hatred for what is loathsome, no
+contempt for what is base, no love for what is lovely, no faith in what
+is noble. To him there is no virtue and no vice; men and women are more
+or less finely organized; noble and tender conduct is more agreeable
+than the reverse, because it argues better health; that is all.
+
+Nor is this from an intellectual calmness, nor from an unusual power of
+analyzing motives, and penetrating delusions merely; neither is it mere
+indifference. There is a touch of the demon, also, in Balzac, the cold
+but gayly familiar demon; and the smile of the amateur yields easily to
+a sneer, as he delights to show you on what foul juices the fair flower
+was fed. He is a thorough and willing materialist. The trance of
+religion is congestion of the brain; the joy of the poet the thrilling
+of the blood in the rapture of sense; and every good not only rises
+from, but hastens back into, the jaws of death and nothingness; a
+rainbow arch above a pestilential chaos!
+
+Thus Balzac, with all his force and fulness of talent, never rises one
+moment into the region of genius. For genius is, in its nature, positive
+and creative, and cannot exist where there is no heart to believe in
+realities. Neither can he have a permanent influence on a nature which
+is not thoroughly corrupt. He might for a while stagger an ingenuous
+mind which had not yet thought for itself. But this could not last. His
+unbelief makes his thought too shallow. He has not that power which a
+mind, only in part sophisticated, may retain, where the heart still
+beats warmly, though it sometimes beats amiss. Write, paint, argue, as
+you will, where there is a sound spot in any human being, he cannot be
+made to believe that this present bodily frame is more than a temporary
+condition of his being, though one to which he may have become
+shamefully enslaved by fault of inheritance, education, or his own
+carelessness.
+
+Taken in his own way, we know no modern tragedies more powerful than
+Balzac's "Eugenie Grandet," "Sweet Pea," "Search after the Absolute,"
+"Father Goriot." See there goodness, aspiration, the loveliest
+instincts, stifled, strangled by fate, in the form of our own brute
+nature. The fate of the ancient Prometheus was happiness to that of
+these, who must pay, for ever having believed there was divine fire in
+heaven, by agonies of despair, and conscious degradation, unknown to
+those who began by believing man to be the most richly endowed of
+brutes--no more!
+
+Balzac is admirable in his description of look, tone, gesture. He has a
+keen sense of whatever is peculiar to the individual. Nothing in modern
+romance surpasses the death-scene of Father Goriot, the Parisian Lear,
+in the almost immortal life with which the parental instincts are
+displayed. And with equal precision and delicacy of shading he will
+paint the slightest by-play in the manners of some young girl.
+
+"Seraphitus" is merely a specimen of his great powers of intellectual
+transposition. Amid his delight at the botanical riches of the new and
+elevated region in which he is travelling, we catch, if only by echo,
+the hem and chuckle of the French materialist.
+
+No more of him!--We leave him to his suicidal work.
+
+It is cheering to know how great is the influence such a writer as Sue
+exerts, from his energy of feeling on some subjects of moral interest.
+It is true that he has also much talent and a various experience of
+life; but writers who far surpass him here, as we think Balzac does,
+wanting this heart of faith, have no influence, except merely on the
+tastes of their readers.
+
+We observe, in a late notice of Sue, that he began to write at quite
+mature age, at the suggestion of a friend. We should think it was so;
+that he was by nature intended for a practical man, rather than a
+writer. He paints all his characters from the practical point of view.
+
+As an observer, when free from exaggeration, he has as good an eye as
+Balzac, but he is far more rarely thus free, for, in temperament, he is
+unequal and sometimes muddy. But then he has the heart and faith that
+Balzac wants, yet is less enslaved by emotion than Sand; therefore he
+has made more impression on his time and place than either. We refer now
+to his later works; though his earlier show much talent, yet his
+progress, both as a writer and thinker, has been so considerable that
+those of the last few years entirely eclipse his earlier essays.
+
+These latter works are the "Mysteries of Paris," "Matilda," and the
+"Wandering Jew," which is now in course of publication. In these, he has
+begun, and is continuing, a crusade against the evils of a corrupt
+civilization which are inflicting such woes and wrongs upon his
+contemporaries.
+
+Sue, however, does not merely assail, but would build up. His anatomy is
+not intended to injure the corpse, or, like that of Balzac, to
+entertain the intellectual merely. Earnestly he hopes to learn from it
+the remedies for disease and the conditions of health. Sue is a
+Socialist. He believes he sees the means by which the heart of mankind
+may be made to beat with one great hope, one love; and instinct with
+this thought, his tales of horror are not tragedies.
+
+This is the secret of the deep interest he has awakened in this country,
+that he shares a hope which is, half unconsciously to herself, stirring
+all her veins. It is not so warmly outspoken as in other lands, both
+because no such pervasive ills as yet call loudly for redress, and
+because private conservatism is here great, in proportion to the absence
+of authorized despotism. We are not disposed to quarrel with this; it is
+well for the value of new thoughts to be tested by a good deal of
+resistance. Opposition, if it does not preclude free discussion, is of
+use in educating men to know what they want. Only by intelligent men,
+exercised by thought and tried in virtue, can such measures as Sue
+proposes be carried out; and when such associates present themselves in
+sufficient numbers, we have no fear but the cause of association, in its
+grander forms, will have fair play in America.
+
+As a writer, Sue shows his want of a high kind of imagination by his
+unshrinking portraiture of physical horrors. We do not believe any man
+could look upon some things he describes and live. He is very powerful
+in his description of the workings of animal nature; especially when he
+speaks of them in animals merely, they have the simplicity of the lower
+kind with the more full expression of human nature. His pictures of
+women are of rare excellence, and it is observable that the more simple
+and pure the character is, the more justice he does to it. This shows
+that, whatever his career may have been, his heart is uncontaminated.
+Men he does not describe so well, and fails entirely when he aims at one
+grand and simple enough for a great moral agent. His conceptions are
+strong, but in execution he is too melodramatic. Just compare _his_
+"Wandering Jew" with that of Beranger. The latter is as diamond compared
+with charcoal. Then, like all those writers who write in numbers that
+come out weekly or monthly, he abuses himself and his subject; he often
+_must_; the arrangement is false and mechanical.
+
+The attitude of Sue is at this moment imposing, as he stands, pen in
+hand,--this his only weapon against an innumerable host of foes,--the
+champion of poverty, innocence, and humanity, against superstition,
+selfishness, and prejudice. When his works are forgotten,--and for all
+their strong points and brilliant decorations, they may ere long be
+forgotten,--still the writer's name shall be held in imperishable honor
+as the teacher of the ignorant, the guardian of the weak, a true tribune
+for the people of his own time.
+
+One of the most unexceptionable and attractive writers of modern France
+is De Vigny. His life has been passed in the army; but many years of
+peace have given him time for literary culture, while his acquaintance
+with the traditions of the army, from the days of its dramatic
+achievements under Bonaparte, supply the finest materials both for
+narrative and reflection. His tales are written with infinite grace,
+refined sensibility, and a dignified view. His treatment of a subject
+shows that closeness of grasp and clearness of sight which are rarely
+attained by one who is not at home in active as well as thoughtful life.
+He has much penetration, too, and has touched some of the most delicate
+springs of human action. His works have been written in hours of
+leisure; this has diminished their number, but given him many advantages
+over the thousands of professional writers that fill the coffee-houses
+of Paris by day, and its garrets by night. We wish he were more read
+here in the original; with him would be found good French, and the
+manners, thoughts, and feelings of a cosmopolitan gentleman.
+
+To sum up this imperfect account of the merits of these Novelists: I see
+De Vigny, a retiring figure, the gentleman, the solitary thinker, but,
+in his way, the efficient foe of false honor and superstitious
+prejudice; Balzac is the heartless surgeon, probing the wounds and
+describing the delirium of suffering men for the amusement of his
+students; Sue, a bold and glittering crusader, with endless ballads
+jingling in the silence of the night before the battle. They are all
+much right and a good deal wrong; for instance, all who would lay down
+their lives for the sake of truth, yet let their virtuous characters
+practise stratagems, falsehood, and violence; in fact, do evil for the
+sake of good. They still show this taint of the old regime, and no
+wonder! La belle France has worn rouge so long that the purest mountain
+air will not, at once, or soon, restore the natural hues to her
+complexion. But they are fine figures, and all ruled by the onward
+spirit of the time. Led by that spirit, I see them moving on the
+troubled waters; they do not sink, and I trust they will find their way
+to the coasts where the new era will introduce new methods, in a spirit
+of nobler activity, wiser patience, and holier faith, than the world has
+yet seen.
+
+Will Balzac also see that shore, or has he only broken away the bars
+that hindered others from setting sail? We do not know. When we read an
+expression of such lovely innocence as the letter of the little country
+maidens to their Parisian brother, (in Father Goriot,) we hope; but
+presently we see him sneering behind the mask, and we fear. Let
+Frenchmen speak to this question. They know best what disadvantages a
+Frenchman suffers under, and whether it is possible Balzac be still
+alive, except in his eyes. Those, we know, are quite alive.
+
+To read these, or any foreign works fairly, the reader must understand
+the national circumstances under which they were written. To use them
+worthily, he must know how to interpret them for the use of the
+universe.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW SCIENCE, OR THE PHILOSOPHY OF MESMERISM OR ANIMAL MAGNETISM.[21]
+
+
+Man is always trying to get charts and directions for the super-sensual
+element in which he finds himself involuntarily moving. Sometimes,
+indeed, for long periods, a life of continual activity in supplying
+bodily wants or warding off bodily dangers will make him inattentive to
+the circumstances of this other life. Then, in an interval of leisure,
+he will start to find himself pervaded by the power of this more subtle
+and searching energy, and will turn his thoughts, with new force, to
+scrutinize its nature and its promises.
+
+At such times a corps is formed of workmen, furnished with various
+implements for the work. Some collect facts from which they hope to
+build up a theory; others propose theories by whose light they hope to
+detect valuable facts; a large number are engaged in circulating reports
+of these labors; a larger in attempting to prove them invalid and
+absurd. These last are of some use by shaking the canker-worms from the
+trees; all are of use in elucidating truth.
+
+Such a course of study has the civilized world been engaged in for some
+years back with regard to what is called Animal Magnetism. We say the
+civilized world, because, though a large portion of the learned and
+intellectual, to say nothing of the thoughtless and the prejudiced, view
+such researches as folly, yet we believe that those prescient souls,
+those minds more deeply alive, which are the life of this and the
+parents of the next era, all, more or less, consciously or
+unconsciously, share the belief in such an agent as is understood by the
+largest definition of animal magnetism; that is, a means by which
+influence and thought may be communicated from one being to another,
+independent of the usual organs, and with a completeness and precision
+rarely attained through these.
+
+For ourselves, since we became conscious at all of our connection with
+the two forms of being called the spiritual and material, we have
+perceived the existence of such an agent, and should have no doubts on
+the subject, if we had never heard one human voice in correspondent
+testimony with our perceptions. The reality of this agent we know, have
+tested some of its phenomena, but of its law and its analysis find
+ourselves nearly as ignorant as in earliest childhood. And we must
+confess that the best writers we have read seem to us about equally
+ignorant. We derive pleasure and profit in very unequal degrees from
+their statements, in proportion to their candor, clearness of
+perception, severity of judgment, and largeness of view. If they possess
+these elements of wisdom, their statements are valuable as affording
+materials for the true theory; but theories proposed by them affect us,
+as yet, only as partially sustained hypotheses. Too many among them are
+stained by faults which must prevent their coming to any valuable
+results, sanguine haste, jealous vanity, a lack of that profound
+devotion which alone can win Truth from her cold well, careless
+classification, abrupt generalizations. We see, as yet, no writer great
+enough for the patient investigation, in a spirit liberal yet severely
+true, which the subject demands. We see no man of Shakspearian,
+Newtonian incapability of deceiving himself or others.
+
+However, no such man is needed, and we believe that it is pure democracy
+to rejoice that, in this department as in others, it is no longer some
+one great genius that concentrates within himself the vital energy of
+his time. It is many working together who do the work. The waters
+spring up in every direction, as little rills, each of which performs
+its part. We see a movement corresponding with this in the region of
+exact science, and we have no doubt that in the course of fifty years a
+new spiritual circulation will be comprehended as clearly as the
+circulation of the blood is now.
+
+In metaphysics, in phrenology, in animal magnetism, in electricity, in
+chemistry, the tendency is the same, even when conclusions seem most
+dissonant. The mind presses nearer home to the seat of consciousness the
+more intimate law and rule of life, and old limits, become fluid beneath
+the fire of thought. We are learning much, and it will be a grand music,
+that shall be played on this organ of many pipes.
+
+With regard to Mr. Grimes's book, in the first place, we do not possess
+sufficient knowledge of the subject to criticise it thoroughly; and
+secondly, if we did, it could not be done in narrow limits. To us his
+classification is unsatisfactory, his theory inadequate, his point of
+view uncongenial. We disapprove of the spirit in which he criticises
+other disciples in this science, who have, we believe, made some good
+observations, with many failures, though, like himself, they do not hold
+themselves sufficiently lowly as disciples. For we do not believe there
+is any man, _yet_, who is entitled to give himself the air of having
+taken a degree on this subject. We do not want the tone of qualification
+or mincing apology. We want no mock modesty, but its reality, which is
+the almost sure attendant on greatness. What a lesson it would be for
+this country if a body of men could be at work together in that harmony
+which would not fail to ensue on a _disinterested_ love of discovering
+truth, and with that patience and exactness in experiment without which
+no machine was ever invented worthy a patent! The most superficial,
+go-ahead, hit-or-miss American knows that no machine was ever perfected
+without this patience and exactness; and let no one hope to achieve
+victories in the realm of mind at a cheaper rate than in that of
+matter.
+
+In speaking thus of Mr. Grimes's book, we can still cordially recommend
+it to the perusal of our readers. Its statements are full and sincere.
+The writer has abilities which only need to be used with more
+thoroughness and a higher aim to guide him to valuable attainments.
+
+In this connection we will relate a passage from personal experience, to
+us powerfully expressive of the nature of this higher agent in the
+intercourse of minds.
+
+Some years ago I went, unexpectedly, into a house where a blind girl,
+thought at that time to have attained an extraordinary degree of
+clairvoyance, lay in a trance of somnambulism. I was not invited there,
+nor known to the party, but accompanied a gentleman who was.
+
+The somnambulist was in a very happy state. On her lips was the
+satisfied smile, and her features expressed the gentle elevation
+incident to the state. At that time I had never seen any one in it, and
+had formed no image or opinion on the subject. I was agreeably impressed
+by the somnambulist, but on listening to the details of her observations
+on a distant place, I thought she had really no vision, but was merely
+led or impressed by the mind of the person who held her hand.
+
+After a while I was beckoned forward, and my hand given to the blind
+girl. The latter instantly dropped it with an expression of pain, and
+complained that she should have been brought in contact with a person so
+sick, and suffering at that moment under violent nervous headache. This
+really was the case, but no one present could have been aware of it.
+
+After a while the somnambulist seemed penitent and troubled. She asked
+again for my hand which she had rejected, and, while holding it,
+attempted to magnetize the sufferer. She seemed touched by profound
+pity, spoke most intelligently of the disorder of health and its causes,
+and gave advice, which, if followed at that time, I have every reason to
+believe would have remedied the ill.
+
+Not only the persons present, but the person advised also, had no
+adequate idea then of the extent to which health was affected, nor saw
+fully, till some time after, the justice of what was said by the
+somnambulist. There is every reason to believe that neither she, nor the
+persons who had the care of her, knew even the name of the person whom
+she so affectionately wished to help.
+
+Several years after, in visiting an asylum for the blind, I saw this
+same girl seated there. She was no longer a somnambulist, though, from a
+nervous disease, very susceptible to magnetic influences. I went to her
+among a crowd of strangers, and shook hands with her as several others
+had done. I then asked, "Do you not not know me?" She answered, "No."
+"Do you not remember ever to have met me?" She tried to recollect, but
+still said, "No." I then addressed a few remarks to her about her
+situation there, but she seemed preoccupied, and, while I turned to
+speak with some one else, wrote with a pencil these words, which she
+gave me at parting:--
+
+    "The ills that Heaven decrees
+    The brave with courage bear."
+
+Others may explain this as they will; to me it was a token that the same
+affinity that had acted before, gave the same knowledge; for the writer
+was at the time ill in the same way as before. It also seemed to
+indicate that the somnambulic trance was only a form of the higher
+development, the sensibility to more subtle influences--in the terms of
+Mr. Grimes, a susceptibility to etherium. The blind girl perhaps never
+knew who I was, but saw my true state more clearly than any other person
+did, and I have kept those pencilled lines, written in the stiff, round
+character proper to the blind, as a talisman of "Credenciveness," as the
+book before me styles it. Credulity as the world at large does, and, to
+my own mind, as one of the clews granted, during this earthly life, to
+the mysteries of future states of being, and more rapid and complete
+modes of intercourse between mind and mind.
+
+
+
+
+DEUTSCHE SCHNELLPOST.[22]
+
+
+The publishers of this interesting and spirited journal have, this year,
+begun to issue a weekly paper in addition to their former arrangement.
+We regret not to have been able earlier to take some notice of their
+prospectus, but an outline of it will be new to most of our readers.
+
+Their journal has hitherto been intended for German readers in this
+country, and has been devoted to topics of European interest, but by the
+addition of the Weekly, it hopes to discuss with some fulness those of
+American interest also; thus becoming "an organ of communication between
+Germans of the old and new home, as to their wants, interests, and
+thoughts." These judicious remarks follow:--
+
+"The editors do not coincide with those who believe it the vocation of
+the immigrant German, by systematic separation from the people who offer
+him a new home, by voluntary withdrawal from the unaccustomed, and,
+perhaps, for him too vehement stream of their life, in a word, by
+obstinate adhesion to the old, to keep inviolate the stamp of his
+nationality.
+
+"Rather is it their faith that it should be the most earnest desire of
+the immigrant, not merely to appropriate in form, but to _deserve_ the
+rights of a citizen here--rights which we confide in the healthy mind of
+the nation to sustain him in, all fanatical opposition to the contrary
+notwithstanding. And he must deserve them by becoming an American, not
+merely in name, but in deed, not merely by assuming claims, but by
+appreciating duties.
+
+"But while we renounce this narrow and one-sided isolation, desiring to
+integrate ourselves, fairly and truly, with the great family that
+receives us to its hospitality, we will hold so much the more firmly to
+the higher traits of our own race. We hold to the noble jewel of our
+native tongue; the memories of our nation's ancient glory; the sympathy
+with its future, as yet only glimmering in the dusk; our old, true,
+domestic manners; dear inherited customs, that give to the
+tranquillities of home their sanctity--to the intercourse between men a
+fresh, glad life.
+
+"So much for our position in general."
+
+They promise, as to American affairs, "to be just as far as in them
+lies, and independent, certainly."
+
+We think the tone of these remarks truly honorable and right-minded. It
+is such a tone that each division of our adopted citizens needs to hear
+from those of their compatriots able to guide and enlighten them. We do
+want that each nation should preserve what is valuable in its parent
+stock. We want all the elements for the new people of the new world. We
+want the prudence, the honor, the practical skill of the English; the
+fun, the affectionateness, the generosity of the Irish; the vivacity,
+the grace, the quick intelligence of the French; the thorough honesty,
+the capacity for philosophic view, and deep enthusiasm of the German
+Biedermann; the shrewdness and romance of the Scotch,--but we want none
+of their prejudices. We want the healthy seed to develop itself into a
+different plant in the new climate. We have reason to hope a new and
+generous race, where the Italian meets the German, the Swede, the Jew.
+Let nothing be obliterated, but all be regenerated; let each leader say
+in like manner to his band. Apply the old loyalty to a study of new
+duties. Examine yourself whether you are worthy of the new rights so
+freely bestowed upon you, and recognize that only intelligent action,
+and not mere bodily presence, can make you really a citizen on any soil.
+It is a glorious boon offered you to be a founder of the new dynasty in
+the new world; but it would have been better for you to have died a
+thousand deaths beneath the factory wheels of England, or in the prisons
+of Russia, than to sell this great privilege for selfish or servile
+ends. Here each man has before him the choice of Esau--each may defraud
+a long succession of souls of their princely inheritance.
+
+Do those whose bodies were born upon this soil reject you, and claim for
+themselves the name of natives? You may be natives, in another sort, for
+the soul may be re-born here. Cast for yourselves a new nativity, and
+invoke the starry influences that do not fail to shine into the life of
+a good man, whose heart is kept open daily to truth in every new form,
+whose heart is strengthened by a desire to do his duty valiantly to
+every brother of the human family. Offer upon the soil a libation of
+worthy feelings in gratitude for the bread it so willingly yields you,
+and it is true that the "healthy mind of the nation" cannot long fail to
+greet you with joy, and hail your endowment with civic rights.
+
+We must think there is a deep root, in fact, for the late bitter
+expressions of prejudice, however unworthy the mode of exhibiting them,
+against the foreign element in our population. We want all this new
+blood, but we want it purified, assimilated, or it will take all form of
+comeliness from the growing nation. Our country is a willing foster
+mother, but her children need wise tutors to prevent them from playing,
+willingly or unwillingly, the viper's part.
+
+There is a little poem in the Schnellpost, by Moritz Hartmann, called
+the "Three,"--which would be a forcible appeal, if any were needed, in
+behalf of all who are exiled from their native soil. We translate it
+into prose, and this will not spoil it, as its poetry lies in the
+situation.
+
+"In a tavern of Hungary are sitting together Three who have taken
+refuge there from storm and darkness--in Hungary, where the wind of
+chance drives together the children of many a land.
+
+"Their eyes glow with fires of various light; their locks are unlike in
+their flow; but their hearts--their wounded hearts--are urns filled with
+the tears of a common grief.
+
+"One cries, 'Silent companions! Shall we have no toast to cheer our
+meeting? I offer you one which you cannot fail to pledge--Freedom and
+greatness to the Fatherland!
+
+"'To the fatherland! But I am one that knows not where is his; I am a
+Gypsy; my fatherland lies in the realm of tradition--in the mournful
+tone of the violin swelled by grief and storm.
+
+"'I pass musing over heath and moor, and think of my painful losses. Yet
+long since was I weaned from desire of a home, and think of Egypt but as
+the cymbal sounds.'
+
+"The second says, 'This toast of fatherland I will not drink; mine own
+shame should I pledge. For the seed of Jacob flies like the dried leaf,
+and takes no root in the dust of slavery.'
+
+"The lips of the third seem frozen at the edge of his goblet. He asks
+himself in silence, 'Shall _I_ drink to the fatherland? Lives Poland
+yet, or is all life departed, and am I, like these, a motherless son?'"
+
+To those and others who, if they still had homes, could not live there,
+without starving body and soul, may our land be a fatherland; and may
+they seek and learn to act as children in a father's house!
+
+A foreign correspondent of the Schnellpost, having, it seems, been
+reproved by some friends on the safe side of the water for the violence
+of his attack on crowned heads, and other dilettanti, defends himself
+with great spirit, and argues his case well from his own point of view.
+We do not agree with him as to the use of methods, but cannot fail to
+sympathize in his feeling.
+
+Anecdotes of Russian proceedings towards delinquents are well associated
+with one anecdote quoted of Peter, who yet was truly the Great. In a
+foreign city, seeing the gallows, he asked the use of that
+three-cornered thing. Being told, to hang people on, he requested that
+one might be hung for him, directly. Being told this, unfortunately,
+could not be done, as there was no criminal under sentence, he desired
+that one of his own retinue might be made use of. Probably he did this
+with no further thought than the Empress Catharine bestowed, on having a
+ship of the line blown up, as a model for the painter who was to adorn
+her palace with pictures of naval battles. Disregard for human life and
+human happiness is not confined to the Russian snows, or the eastern
+hemisphere; it may be found on every side, though, indeed, not on a
+scale so imperial.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER CROMWELL.[23]
+
+
+A long expectation is rewarded at last by the appearance of this book.
+We cannot wonder that it should have been long, when Mr. Carlyle shows
+us what a world of ill-arranged and almost worthless materials he has
+had to wade through before achieving any possibility of order and
+harmony for his narrative.
+
+The method which he has chosen of letting the letters and speeches of
+Cromwell tell the story when possible, only himself doing what is
+needful to throw light where it is most wanted and fill up gaps, is an
+excellent one. Mr. Carlyle, indeed, is a most peremptory showman, and
+with each slide of his magic lantern informs us not only of what is
+necessary to enable us to understand it, but _how_ we must look at it,
+under peril of being ranked as "imbeciles," "canting sceptics,"
+"disgusting rose-water philanthropists," and the like. And aware of his
+power of tacking a nickname or ludicrous picture to any one who refuses
+to obey, we might perhaps feel ourselves, if in his neighborhood, under
+such constraint and fear of deadly laughter, as to lose the benefit of
+having under our eye to form our judgment upon the same materials on
+which he formed his.
+
+But the ocean separates us, and the showman has his own audience of
+despised victims, or scarce less despised pupils; and we need not fear
+to be handed down to posterity as "a little gentleman in a gray coat"
+"shrieking" unutterable "imbecilities," or with the like damnatory
+affixes, when we profess that, having read the book, and read the
+letters and speeches thus far, we cannot submit to the showman's
+explanation of the lantern, but must, more than ever, stick to the old
+"Philistine," "Dilettante," "Imbecile," and what not view of the
+character of Cromwell.
+
+We all know that to Mr. Carlyle greatness is well nigh synonymous with
+virtue, and that he has shown himself a firm believer in Providence by
+receiving the men of destiny as always entitled to reverence. Sometimes
+a great success has followed the portraits painted by him in the light
+of such faith, as with regard to Mahomet, for instance. The natural
+autocrat is his delight, and in such pictures as that of the monk in
+"Past and Present," where the geniuses of artist and subject coincide,
+the result is no less delightful for us.
+
+But Mr. Carlyle reminds us of the man in a certain parish who had always
+looked up to one of its squires as a secure and blameless idol, and one
+day in church, when the minister asked "all who felt in concern for
+their souls to rise," looked to the idol and seeing him retain his seat,
+(asleep perchance!) sat still also. One of his friends asking him
+afterwards how he could refuse to answer such an appeal, he replied, "he
+thought it safest to stay with the squire."
+
+Mr. Carlyle's squires are all Heaven's justices of peace or war,
+(usually the latter;) they are beings of true energy and genius, and so
+far, as he describes them, "genuine men." But in doubtful cases, where
+the doubt is between them and principles, he will insist that the men
+must be in the right. On such occasions he favors us with such doctrine
+as the following, which we confess we had the weakness to read with
+"sibylline execration" and extreme disgust.
+
+Speaking of Cromwell's course in Ireland:--
+
+"Oliver's proceedings here have been the theme of much loud criticism,
+sibylline execration, into which it is not our plan to enter at present.
+We shall give these fifteen letters of his in a mass, and without any
+commentary whatever. To those who think that a land overrun with
+sanguinary quacks can be healed by sprinkling it with rose-water, these
+letters must be very horrible. Terrible surgery this; but _is_ it
+surgery and judgment, or atrocious murder merely? This is a question
+which should be asked; and answered. Oliver Cromwell did believe in
+God's judgments; and did not believe in the rose-water plan of
+surgery,--which, in fact, is this editor's case too! Every idle lie and
+piece of empty bluster this editor hears, he too, like Oliver, has to
+shudder at it; has to think, 'Thou, idle bluster, not true, thou also
+art shutting men's minds against God's fact; thou wilt issue as a cleft
+crown to some poor man some day; thou also wilt have to take shelter in
+bogs, whither cavalry cannot follow!' But in Oliver's time, as I say,
+there was still belief in the judgments of God; in Oliver's time, there
+was yet no distracted jargon of 'abolishing capital punishments,' of
+Jean-Jacques philanthropy, and universal rose-water in this world still
+so full of sin. Men's notion was, not for abolishing punishments, but
+for making laws just. God the Maker's laws, they considered, had not yet
+got the punishment abolished from them! Men had a notion that the
+difference between good and evil was still considerable--equal to the
+difference between heaven and hell. It was a true notion, which all men
+yet saw, and felt, in all fibres of their existence, to be true. Only in
+late decadent generations, fast hastening toward radical change or final
+perdition, can such indiscriminate mashing up of good and evil into one
+universal patent treacle, and most unmedical electuary, of Rousseau
+sentimentalism, universal pardon and benevolence, with dinner and drink
+and one cheer more, take effect in our earth. Electuary very poisonous,
+as sweet as it is, and very nauseous; of which Oliver, happier than we,
+had not yet heard the slightest intimation even in dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"In fact, Oliver's dialect is rude and obsolete; the phrases of Oliver,
+to him solemn on the perilous battle field as voices of God, have become
+to us most mournful when spouted as frothy cant from Exeter Hall. The
+reader has, all along, to make steady allowance for that. And on the
+whole, clear recognition will be difficult for him. To a poor slumberous
+canting age, mumbling to itself every where, Peace, peace, when there is
+no peace,--such a phenomena as Oliver, in Ireland or elsewhere, is not
+the most recognizable in all its meanings. But it waits there for
+recognition, and can wait an age or two. The memory of Oliver Cromwell,
+as I count, has a good many centuries in it yet; and ages of very varied
+complexion to apply to, before all end. My reader, in this passage and
+others, shall make of it what he can.
+
+"But certainly, at lowest, here is a set of military despatches of the
+most unexampled nature! Most rough, unkempt; shaggy as the Numidian
+lion. A style rugged as crags; coarse, drossy: yet with a meaning in it,
+an energy, a depth; pouring on like a fire torrent; perennial _fire_ of
+it visible athwart all drosses and defacements; not uninteresting to
+see! This man has come into distracted Ireland with a God's truth in the
+heart of him, though an unexpected one; the first such man they have
+seen for a great while indeed. He carries acts of Parliament, laws of
+earth and heaven, in one hand; drawn sword in the other. He addresses
+the bewildered Irish populations, the black ravening coil of sanguinary
+blustering individuals at Tredah and elsewhere: 'Sanguinary, blustering
+individuals, whose word is grown worthless as the barking of dogs; whose
+very thought is false, representing no fact, but the contrary of
+fact--behold, I am come to speak and to do the truth among you. Here are
+acts in Parliament, methods of regulation and veracity, emblems the
+nearest we poor Puritans could make them of God's law-book, to which it
+is and shall be our perpetual effort to make them correspond nearer and
+nearer. Obey them, help us to perfect them, be peaceable and true under
+them, it shall be well with you. Refuse to obey them, I will not let
+you continue living! As articulate speaking veracious orderly men, not
+as a blustering, murderous kennel of dogs run rabid, shall you continue
+in this earth. Choose!' They chose to disbelieve him; could not
+understand that he, more than the others, meant any truth or justice to
+them. They rejected his summons and terms at Tredah; he stormed the
+place; and, according to his promise, put every man of the garrison to
+death. His own soldiers are forbidden to plunder, by paper proclamation;
+and in ropes of authentic hemp, they are hanged when they do it. To
+Wexford garrison, the like terms as at Tredah; and, failing these, the
+like storm. Here is a man whose word represents a thing! Not bluster
+this, and false jargon scattering itself to the winds; what this man
+speaks out of him comes to pass as a fact; speech with this man is
+accurately prophetic of deed. This is the first king's face poor Ireland
+ever saw; the first friend's face, _little as it recognizes him_--poor
+Ireland!"
+
+Yes, Cromwell had force and sagacity to get that done which he had
+resolved to get done; and this is the whole truth about your admiration,
+Mr. Carlyle. Accordingly, at Drogheda quoth Cromwell,--
+
+"I believe we put to sword the whole number of the defendants. * *
+Indeed, being in the heat of action, I forbade them to spare any that
+were in arms in the town; and I think that night they put to the sword
+about two thousand men, divers of the officers and soldiers being fled
+over the bridge into the other part of the town; and where about one
+hundred of them possessed St. Peter's Church, steeple, &c. These, being
+summoned to yield to mercy, refused. Whereupon I ordered the steeple of
+St. Peter's Church to be fired; when one of them was heard to say, in
+the midst of the flames, 'God confound me! I burn, I burn!'
+
+"I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these
+barbarous wretches who have imbrued their hands in so much innocent
+blood; and that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the
+future. Which are the satisfactory grounds to such actions, which
+otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret. * * This hath been an
+exceeding great mercy."
+
+Certainly one not of the rose-water or treacle kind. Mr. Carlyle says
+such measures "cut to the heart of the war," and brought peace. Was
+there _then_ no crying of Peace, Peace, when there was no peace? Ask the
+Irish peasantry why they mark that period with the solemn phrase of
+"Cromwell's Curse!"
+
+For ourselves, though aware of the mistakes and errors in particulars
+that must occur, we believe the summing up of a man's character in the
+verdict of his time, is likely to be correct. We believe that Cromwell
+was "a curse," as much as a blessing, in these acts of his. We believe
+him ruthless, ambitious, half a hypocrite, (few men have courage or want
+of soul to bear being wholly so,) and we think it is rather too bad to
+rave at us in our time for canting, and then hold up the prince of
+canters for our reverence in his "dimly seen nobleness." Dimly, indeed,
+despite the rhetoric and satire of Mr. Carlyle!
+
+In previous instances where Mr. Carlyle has acted out his
+predeterminations as to the study of a character, we have seen
+circumstances favor him, at least sometimes. There were fine moments,
+fine lights upon the character that he would seize upon. But here the
+facts look just as they always have. He indeed ascertains that the
+Cromwell family were not mere brewers or plebeians, but "substantial
+gentry," and that there is not the least ground for the common notion
+that Cromwell lived at any time a dissolute life. But with the exception
+of these emendations, still the history looks as of old. We see a man of
+strong and wise mind, educated by the pressure of great occasions to
+station of command; we see him wearing the religious garb which was the
+custom of the times, and even preaching to himself as well as to
+others--for well can we imagine that his courage and his pride would
+have fallen without keeping up the illusion; but we never see Heaven
+answering his invocations in any way that can interfere with the rise of
+his fortunes or the accomplishment of his plans. To ourselves, the tone
+of these religious holdings-forth is sufficiently expressive; they all
+ring hollow; we have never read any thing of the sort more repulsive to
+us than the letter to Mr. Hammond, which Mr. Carlyle thinks such a noble
+contrast to the impiety of the present time. Indeed, we cannot recover
+from our surprise at Mr. Carlyle's liking these letters; his
+predetermination must have been strong indeed. Again, we see Cromwell
+ruling with the strong arm, and carrying the spirit of monarchy to an
+excess which no Stuart could surpass. Cromwell, indeed, is wise, and the
+king he had punished with death is foolish; Charles is faithless, and
+Cromwell crafty; we see no other difference. Cromwell does not, in
+power, abide by the principles that led him to it; and we can't help--so
+rose-water imbecile are we!--admiring those who do: one Lafayette, for
+instance--poor chevalier so despised by Mr. Carlyle--for abiding by his
+principles, though impracticable, more than Louis Philippe, who laid
+them aside, so far as necessary, "to secure peace to the kingdom;" and
+to us it looks black for one who kills kings to grow to be more kingly
+than a king.
+
+The death of Charles I. was a boon to the world, for it marked the dawn
+of a new era, when kings, in common with other men, are to be held
+accountable by God and mankind for what they do. Many who took part in
+this act which _did_ require a courage and faith almost unparalleled,
+were, no doubt, moved by the noblest sense of duty. We doubt not this
+had its share in the bosom counsels of Cromwell. But we cannot
+sympathize with the apparent satisfaction of Mr. Carlyle in seeing him
+engaged, two days after the execution, in marriage treaty for his son.
+This seems more ruthlessness than calmness. One who devoted so many days
+to public fasting and prayer, on less occasions, might well make solemn
+pause on this. Mr. Carlyle thinks much of some pleasant domestic letters
+from Cromwell. What brigand, what pirate, fails to have some such soft
+and light feelings?
+
+In short, we have no time to say all we think; but we stick to the
+received notions of Old Noll, with his great, red nose, hard heart, long
+head, and crafty ambiguities. Nobody ever doubted his great abilities
+and force of will; neither doubt we that he was made an "instrument"
+just as he professeth. But as to looking on him through Mr. Carlyle's
+glasses, we shall not be sneered or stormed into it, unless he has other
+proof to offer than is shown yet. And we resent the violence he offers
+both to our prejudices and our perceptions. If he has become interested
+in Oliver, or any other pet hyena, by studying his habits, is that any
+reason we should admit him to our Pantheon? No! our imbecility shall
+keep fast the door against any thing short of proofs that in the hyena a
+god is incarnated. Mr. Carlyle declares that he sees it, but we really
+cannot. The hyena is surely not out of the kingdom of God, but as to
+being the finest emblem of what is divine--no, no!
+
+In short, we can sympathize with the words of John Maidstone:--
+
+"He [Cromwell] was a strong man in the dark perils of war; in the high
+places of the field, hope shone in him like a pillar of fire, when it
+had gone out in the others"--a poetic and sufficient account of the
+secret of his power.
+
+But Mr. Carlyle goes on to gild the refined gold thus:--
+
+"A genuine king among men, Mr. Maidstone! The divinest sight this world
+sees, when it is privileged to see such, and not be sickened with the
+unholy apery of such."
+
+We know you do with all your soul love kings and heroes, Mr. Carlyle,
+but we are not sure you would always know the Sauls from the Davids. We
+fear, if you had the disposal of the holy oil, you would be tempted to
+pour it on the head of him who is taller by the head than all his
+brethren, without sufficient care as to purity of inward testimony.
+
+Such is the impression left on us by the book thus far, as to the view
+of its hero; but as to what difficulties attended the writing the
+history of Cromwell, the reader will like to see what Mr. Carlyle
+himself says:--
+
+"These authentic utterances of the man Oliver himself--I have gathered
+them from far and near; fished them up from the foul Lethean quagmires
+where they lay buried; I have washed, or endeavored to wash, them clean
+from foreign stupidities, (such a job of buck-washing as I do not long
+to repeat;) and the world shall now see them in their own shape."
+
+For the rest, this book is of course entertaining, witty, dramatic,
+picturesque; all traits that are piquant, many that have profound
+interest, are brought out better than new. The "letters and speeches"
+are put into readable state, and this alone is a great benefit. They are
+a relief after Mr. Carlyle's high-seasoned writing; and this again is a
+relief after their long-winded dimnesses. Most of the heroic anecdotes
+of the time had been used up before, but they lose nothing in the hands
+of Carlyle; and pictures of the scenes, such as of Naseby fight, for
+instance, it was left to him to give. We have passed over the hackneyed
+ground attended by a torch-bearer, who has given a new animation to the
+procession of events, and cast a ruddy glow on many a striking
+physiognomy. That any truth of high value has been brought to light, we
+do not perceive--certainly nothing has been added to our own sense of
+the greatness of the times, nor any new view presented that we can
+adopt, as to the position and character of the agents.
+
+We close with the only one of Cromwell's letters that we really like.
+Here his religious words and his temper seem quite sincere.
+
+     "_To my loving Brother, Colonel Valentine Walton: These._
+
+     July, 1644.
+
+     "DEAR SIR: It's our duty to sympathize in all mercies; and to
+     praise the Lord together in chastisements or trials, so that we may
+     sorrow together.
+
+     "Truly England and the church of God hath had a great favor from
+     the Lord, in this great victory given unto us, such as the like
+     never was since this war began. It had all the evidences of an
+     absolute victory obtained by the Lord's blessing upon the godly
+     party principally. We never charged but we routed the enemy. The
+     left wing, which I commanded, being our own horse, saving a few
+     Scots in our rear, beat all the prince's horse. God make them as
+     stubble to our swords. We charged their regiments of foot with our
+     horse, and routed all we charged. The particulars I cannot relate
+     now; but I believe, of twenty thousand, the prince hath not four
+     thousand left. Give glory, all the glory, to God.
+
+     "Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon-shot. It
+     brake his leg. We were necessitated to have it cut off, whereof he
+     died.
+
+     "Sir, you know my own trials this way;[24] but the Lord supported
+     me with this, that the Lord took him into the happiness we all pant
+     for and live for. There is your precious child, full of glory,
+     never to know sin or sorrow any more. He was a gallant young man,
+     exceedingly gracious. God give you his comfort. Before his death he
+     was so full of comfort, that to Frank Russel and myself he could
+     not express it, 'it was so great above his pain.' This he said to
+     us. Indeed it was admirable. A little after, he said one thing lay
+     upon his spirit. I asked him what that was. He told me it was, that
+     God had not suffered him to be any more the executioner of his
+     enemies. At his fall, his horse being killed with the bullet, and,
+     as I am informed, three horses more, I am told he bid them open to
+     the right and left, that he might see the rogues run. Truly he was
+     exceedingly beloved in the army, of all that knew him. But few knew
+     him; for he was a precious young man, fit for God. You have cause
+     to bless the Lord. He is a glorious saint in heaven; wherein you
+     ought exceedingly to rejoice. Let this drink up your sorrow: seeing
+     these are not feigned words to comfort you, but the thing is so
+     real and undoubted a truth. You may do all things by the strength
+     of Christ. Seek that, and you shall easily bear your trial. Let
+     this public mercy to the church of God make you to forget your
+     private sorrow. The Lord be your strength; so prays
+
+      "Your truly faithful and loving brother,
+                "OLIVER CROMWELL."
+
+
+
+And add this noble passage, in which Carlyle speaks of the morbid
+affection of Cromwell's mind:--
+
+"In those years it must be that Dr. Simcott, physician in Huntingdon,
+had to do with Oliver's hypochondriac maladies. He told Sir Philip
+Warwick, unluckily specifying no date, or none that has survived, 'he
+had often been sent for at midnight;' Mr. Cromwell for many years was
+very 'splenetic,' (spleen-struck,) often thought he was just about to
+die, and also 'had fancies about the Town Cross.'[25] Brief intimation,
+of which the reflective reader may make a great deal. Samuel Johnson too
+had hypochondrias; all great souls are apt to have; and to be in thick
+darkness generally, till the eternal ways and the celestial guiding
+stars disclose themselves, and the vague abyss of life knit itself up
+into firmaments for them. The temptations in the wilderness, choices of
+Hercules, and the like, in succinct or loose form, are appointed for
+every man that will assert a soul in himself and be a man. Let Oliver
+take comfort in his dark sorrows and melancholies. The quantity of
+sorrow he has, does it not mean withal the quantity of _sympathy_ he
+has, the quantity of faculty and victory he shall yet have? 'Our sorrow
+is the inverted image of our nobleness.' The depth of our despair
+measures what capability, and height of claim, we have to hope. Black
+smoke as of Tophet filling all your universe, it can yet by true
+heart-energy become _flame_, and brilliancy of heaven. Courage!"
+
+Were the flame but a pure as well as a bright flame! Sometimes we know
+the black phantoms change to white angel forms; the vulture is
+metamorphosed into a dove. Was it so in this instance? Unlike Mr.
+Carlyle, we are willing to let each reader judge for himself; but
+perhaps we should not be so generous if we had studied ourselves sick in
+wading through all that mass of papers, and had nothing to defend us
+against the bitterness of biliousness, except a growing enthusiasm about
+our hero.
+
+
+
+
+EMERSON'S ESSAYS[26]
+
+
+At the distance of three years this volume follows the first series of
+Essays, which have already made to themselves a circle of readers,
+attentive, thoughtful, more and more intelligent; and this circle is a
+large one if we consider the circumstances of this country, and of
+England also, at this time.
+
+In England it would seem there are a larger number of persons waiting
+for an invitation to calm thought and sincere intercourse than among
+ourselves. Copies of Mr. Emerson's first published little volume called
+"Nature," have there been sold by thousands in a short time, while one
+edition has needed seven years to get circulated here. Several of his
+orations and essays from the "Dial" have also been republished there,
+and met with a reverent and earnest response.
+
+We suppose that while in England the want of such a voice is as great as
+here, a larger number are at leisure to recognize that want; a far
+larger number have set foot in the speculative region, and have ears
+refined to appreciate these melodious accents.
+
+Our people, heated by a partisan spirit, necessarily occupied in these
+first stages by bringing out the material resources of the land, not
+generally prepared by early training for the enjoyment of books that
+require attention and reflection, are still more injured by a large
+majority of writers and speakers, who lend all their efforts to flatter
+corrupt tastes and mental indolence, instead of feeling it their
+prerogative and their duty to admonish the community of the danger and
+arouse it to nobler energy. The plan of the popular writer or lecturer
+is not to say the best he knows in as few and well-chosen words as he
+can, making it his first aim to do justice to the subject. Rather he
+seeks to beat out a thought as thin as possible, and to consider what
+the audience will be most willing to receive.
+
+The result of such a course is inevitable. Literature and art must
+become daily more degraded; philosophy cannot exist. A man who feels
+within his mind some spark of genius, or a capacity for the exercises of
+talent, should consider himself as endowed with a sacred commission. He
+is the natural priest, the shepherd of the people. He must raise his
+mind as high as he can towards the heaven of truth, and try to draw up
+with him those less gifted by nature with ethereal lightness. If he does
+not so, but rather employs his powers to flatter them in their poverty,
+and to hinder aspiration by useless words, and a mere seeming of
+activity, his sin is great; he is false to God, and false to man.
+
+Much of this sin indeed is done ignorantly. The idea that literature
+calls men to the genuine hierarchy is almost forgotten. One, who finds
+himself able, uses his pen, as he might a trowel, solely to procure
+himself bread, without having reflected on the position in which he
+thereby places himself.
+
+Apart from the troop of mercenaries, there is one, still larger, of
+those who use their powers merely for local and temporary ends, aiming
+at no excellence other than may conduce to these. Among these rank
+persons of honor and the best intentions; but they neglect the lasting
+for the transient, as a man neglects to furnish his mind that he may
+provide the better for the house in which his body is to dwell for a few
+years.
+
+At a period when these sins and errors are prevalent, and threaten to
+become more so, how can we sufficiently prize and honor a mind which is
+quite pure from such? When, as in the present case, we find a man whose
+only aim is the discernment and interpretation of the spiritual laws by
+which we live, and move, and have our being, all whose objects are
+permanent, and whose every word stands for a fact.
+
+If only as a representative of the claims of individual culture in a
+nation which is prone to lay such stress on artificial organization and
+external results, Mr. Emerson would be invaluable here. History will
+inscribe his name as a father of his country, for he is one who pleads
+her cause against herself.
+
+If New England may be regarded as a chief mental focus to the New
+World,--and many symptoms seem to give her this place,--as to other
+centres belong the characteristics of heart and lungs to the body
+politic; if we may believe, as we do believe, that what is to be acted
+out, in the country at large, is, most frequently, first indicated
+there, as all the phenomena of the nervous system are in the fantasies
+of the brain, we may hail as an auspicious omen the influence Mr.
+Emerson has there obtained, which is deep-rooted, increasing, and, over
+the younger portion of the community, far greater than that of any other
+person.
+
+His books are received there with a more ready intelligence than
+elsewhere, partly because his range of personal experience and
+illustration applies to that region; partly because he has prepared the
+way for his books to be read by his great powers as a speaker.
+
+The audience that waited for years upon the lectures, a part of which is
+incorporated into these volumes of Essays, was never large, but it was
+select, and it was constant. Among the hearers were some, who, though,
+attracted by the beauty of character and manner, they were willing to
+hear the speaker through, yet always went away discontented. They were
+accustomed to an artificial method, whose scaffolding could easily be
+retraced, and desired an obvious sequence of logical inferences. They
+insisted there was nothing in what they had heard, because they could
+not give a clear account of its course and purport. They did not see
+that Pindar's odes might be very well arranged for their own purpose,
+and yet not bear translating into the methods of Mr. Locke.
+
+Others were content to be benefited by a good influence, without a
+strict analysis of its means. "My wife says it is about the elevation of
+human nature, and so it seems to me," was a fit reply to some of the
+critics. Many were satisfied to find themselves excited to congenial
+thought and nobler life, without an exact catalogue of the thoughts of
+the speaker.
+
+Those who believed no truth could exist, unless encased by the burrs of
+opinion, went away utterly baffled. Sometimes they thought he was on
+their side; then presently would come something on the other. He really
+seemed to believe there were two sides to every subject, and even to
+intimate higher ground, from which each might be seen to have an
+infinite number of sides or bearings, an impertinence not to be endured!
+The partisan heard but once, and returned no more.
+
+But some there were,--simple souls,--whose life had been, perhaps,
+without clear light, yet still a-search after truth for its own sake,
+who were able to receive what followed on the suggestion of a subject in
+a natural manner, as a stream of thought. These recognized, beneath the
+veil of words, the still small voice of conscience, the vestal fires of
+lone religious hours, and the mild teachings of the summer woods.
+
+The charm of the elocution, too, was great. His general manner was that
+of the reader, occasionally rising into direct address or invocation in
+passages where tenderness or majesty demanded more energy. At such times
+both eye and voice called on a remote future to give a worthy reply,--a
+future which shall manifest more largely the universal soul as it was
+then manifest to this soul. The tone of the voice was a grave body tone,
+full and sweet rather than sonorous, yet flexible, and haunted by many
+modulations, as even instruments of wood and brass seem to become after
+they have been long played on with skill and taste; how much more so the
+human voice! In the more expressive passages it uttered notes of
+silvery clearness, winning, yet still more commanding. The words uttered
+in those tones floated a while above us, then took root in the memory
+like winged seed.
+
+In the union of an even rustic plainness with lyric inspirations,
+religious dignity with philosophic calmness, keen sagacity in details
+with boldness of view, we saw what brought to mind the early poets and
+legislators of Greece--men who taught their fellows to plough and avoid
+moral evil, sing hymns to the gods, and watch the metamorphoses of
+nature. Here in civic Boston was such a man--one who could see man in
+his original grandeur and his original childishness, rooted in simple
+nature, raising to the heavens the brow and eyes of a poet.
+
+And these lectures seemed not so much lectures as grave didactic poems,
+theogonies, perhaps, adorned by odes when some power was in question
+whom the poet had best learned to serve, and with eclogues wisely
+portraying in familiar tongue the duties of man to man and "harmless
+animals."
+
+Such was the attitude in which the speaker appeared to that portion of
+the audience who have remained permanently attached to him. They value
+his words as the signets of reality; receive his influence as a help and
+incentive to a nobler discipline than the age, in its general aspect,
+appears to require; and do not fear to anticipate the verdict of
+posterity in claiming for him the honors of greatness, and, in some
+respects, of a master.
+
+In New England Mr. Emerson thus formed for himself a class of readers
+who rejoice to study in his books what they already know by heart. For,
+though the thought has become familiar, its beautiful garb is always
+fresh and bright in hue.
+
+A similar circle of "like-minded" persons the books must and do form for
+themselves, though with a movement less directly powerful, as more
+distant from its source.
+
+The Essays have also been obnoxious to many charges; to that of
+obscurity, or want of perfect articulation; of "euphuism," as an excess
+of fancy in proportion to imagination; and an inclination, at times, to
+subtlety at the expense of strength, have been styled. The human heart
+complains of inadequacy, either in the nature or experience of the
+writer, to represent its full vocation and its deeper needs. Sometimes
+it speaks of this want as "under development," or a want of expansion
+which may yet be remedied; sometimes doubts whether "in this mansion
+there be either hall or portal to receive the loftier of the passions."
+Sometimes the soul is deified at the expense of nature, then again
+nature at that of man; and we are not quite sure that we can make a true
+harmony by balance of the statements. This writer has never written one
+good work, if such a work be one where the whole commands more attention
+than the parts, or if such a one be produced only where, after an
+accumulation of materials, fire enough be applied to fuse the whole into
+one new substance. This second series is superior in this respect to the
+former; yet in no one essay is the main stress so obvious as to produce
+on the mind the harmonious effect of a noble river or a tree in full
+leaf. Single passages and sentences engage our attention too much in
+proportion. These Essays, it has been justly said, tire like a string of
+mosaics or a house built of medals. We miss what we expect in the work
+of the great poet, or the great philosopher--the liberal air of all the
+zones; the glow, uniform yet various in tint, which is given to a body
+by free circulation of the heart's blood from the hour of birth. Here
+is, undoubtedly, the man of ideas; but we want the ideal man also--want
+the heart and genius of human life to interpret it; and here our
+satisfaction is not so perfect. We doubt this friend raised himself too
+early to the perpendicular, and did not lie along the ground long enough
+to hear the secret whispers of our parent life. We could wish he might
+be thrown by conflicts on the lap of mother earth, to see if he would
+not rise again with added powers.
+
+All this we may say, but it cannot excuse us from benefiting by the
+great gifts that have been given, and assigning them their due place.
+
+Some painters paint on a red ground. And this color may be supposed to
+represent the groundwork most immediately congenial to most men, as it
+is the color of blood, and represents human vitality. The figures traced
+upon it are instinct with life in its fulness and depth.
+
+But other painters paint on a gold ground. And a very different, but no
+less natural, because also a celestial beauty, is given to their works
+who choose for their foundation the color of the sunbeam, which Nature
+has preferred for her most precious product, and that which will best
+bear the test of purification--gold.
+
+If another simile may be allowed, another no less apt is at hand. Wine
+is the most brilliant and intense expression of the powers of earth. It
+is her potable fire, her answer to the sun. It exhilarates, it inspires,
+but then it is liable to fever and intoxicate, too, the careless
+partaker.
+
+Mead was the chosen drink of the northern gods. And this essence of the
+honey of the mountain bee was not thought unworthy to revive the souls
+of the valiant who had left their bodies on the fields of strife below.
+
+Nectar should combine the virtues of the ruby wine, the golden mead,
+without their defects or dangers.
+
+Two high claims on the attention of his contemporaries our writer can
+vindicate. One from his sincerity. You have his thought just as it found
+place in the life of his own soul. Thus, however near or relatively
+distant its approximation to absolute truth, its action on you cannot
+fail to be healthful. It is a part of the free air.
+
+Emerson belongs to that band of whom there may be found a few in every
+age, and who now in known human history may be counted by hundreds, who
+worship the one God only, the God of Truth. They worship, not saints,
+nor creeds, nor churches, nor reliques, nor idols in any form. The mind
+is kept open to truth, and life only valued as a tendency towards it.
+This must be illustrated by acts and words of love, purity and
+intelligence. Such are the salt of the earth; let the minutest crystal
+of that salt be willingly by us held in solution.
+
+The other claim is derived from that part of his life, which, if
+sometimes obstructed or chilled by the critical intellect, is yet the
+prevalent and the main source of his power. It is that by which he
+imprisons his hearer only to free him again as a "liberating God," (to
+use his own words.) But, indeed, let us use them altogether, for none
+other, ancient or modern, can more worthily express how, making present
+to us the courses and destinies of nature, he invests himself with her
+serenity and animates us with her joy.
+
+"Poetry was all written before time was; and whenever we are so finely
+organized that we can penetrate into that region where the air is music,
+we hear those primal warblings, and attempt to write them down, but we
+lose ever and anon a word or a verse, and substitute something of our
+own, and thus miswrite the poem. The men of more delicate ear write down
+these cadences more faithfully, and these transcripts, though imperfect,
+become the songs of the nations."
+
+Thus have we, in a brief and unworthy manner, indicated some views of
+these books. The only true criticism of these or any good books may be
+gained by making them the companions of our lives. Does every accession
+of knowledge or a juster sense of beauty make us prize them more? Then
+they are good, indeed, and more immortal than mortal. Let that test be
+applied to these Essays which will lead to great and complete
+poems--somewhere.
+
+
+
+
+CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.[27]
+
+
+We have had this book before us for several weeks, but the task of
+reading it has been so repulsive that we have been obliged to get
+through it by short stages, with long intervals of rest and refreshment
+between, and have only just reached the end. We believe, however, we are
+now possessed of its substance, so far as it is possible to admit into
+any mind matter wholly uncongenial with its structure, its faith, and
+its hope.
+
+Meanwhile others have shown themselves more energetic in the task, and
+notices have appeared that express, in part, our own views. Among others
+an able critic has thus summed up his impressions:--
+
+"Of the whole we will say briefly, that its premises are monstrous, its
+reasoning sophistical, its conclusions absurd, and its spirit diabolic."
+
+We know not that we can find a better scheme of arrangement for what we
+have to say than by dividing it into sections under these four heads:--
+
+1st. The premises are monstrous. Here we must add the qualification,
+they are monstrous _to us_. The God of these writers is not the God we
+recognize; the views they have of human nature are antipodal to ours. We
+believe in a Creative Spirit, the essense of whose being is Love. He has
+created men in the spirit of love, intending to develop them to perfect
+harmony with himself. He has permitted the temporary existence of evil
+as a condition necessary to bring out in them free agency and
+individuality of character. Punishment is the necessary result of a bad
+choice in them; it is not meant by him as vengeance, but as an
+admonition to choose better. Man is not born totally evil; he is born
+capable both of good and evil, and the Holy Spirit in working on him
+only quickens the soul already there to know its Father. To one who
+takes such views the address of Jesus becomes intelligible--"Be ye
+therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful." "For with the same
+measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again."
+
+Those who take these views of the relation between God and man must
+naturally tend to have punishment consist as much as possible in the
+inward spiritual results of faults, rather than a violent outward
+enforcement of penalty. They must, so far as possible, seek to revere
+God by showing themselves brotherly to man; and if they wish to obey
+Christ, will not forget that he came especially to call _sinners_ to
+repentance.
+
+The views of these writers are the opposite of all this. We need not
+state them; they are sufficiently indicated in each page of their own.
+Their conclusions are the natural result of such premises. We could say
+nothing about either, except to express dissent from beginning to end.
+Yet would it be sweet and noble, and worthy of this late period of human
+progress, if their position had been stated in a spirit of religious, of
+manly courtesy; if they had had the soul to say, "We differ from you,
+but we know that so wide and full a stream of thought and emotion as you
+are moved by could not, under the providential rule in which we believe,
+have arisen in vain. The object of every such manifestation of life must
+be to bring out truth; come, let us seek it together. Let us show you
+our view, compare it with yours, and let us see which is the better. If,
+as we think, the truth lie with us, what joy will it be for us to cast
+the clear light on the object of your aspirations!"
+
+Of this degree of liberality we have known some, even, who served the
+same creed as these writers to be capable. There is, indeed, a higher
+spirit, which, believing all forms of opinion which we hold in the
+present stage of our growth can be but approximations to truth, and that
+God has permitted to the multitude of men a multitude of ways by which
+they may approach one common goal, looks with reverence on all modes of
+faith sincerely held and acted upon, and while it rejoices in those
+souls which have reached the higher stages of spiritual growth, has no
+despair as to those which still grope in a narrow path and by a
+glimmering light. Such liberality is, of course, out of the question
+with such writers as the present. Their faith binds them to believe that
+they have absolute truth, and that all who do not believe as they do are
+wretched heretics. Those whose creed is of narrower scope are to them
+hateful bigots; but also those with whom it is of wider are
+latitudinarians or infidels. The spot of earth on which they stand is
+the only one safe from the conflagration, and only through spectacles
+and spyglasses such as are used by them can the sun and stars be seen.
+Yet, as we said before, some such, though incapacitated for an
+intellectual, are not so for a spiritual tolerance. With them the heart,
+more Christ-like than the creed, urges to a spirit of love and reverence
+even towards convictions opposed to their own. The sincere man is always
+respectable in their eyes, and they cannot help feeling that, wherever
+there is a desire for truth, there is the spirit of God, and his true
+priests will approach with gentleness, and do their ministry with holy
+care. Unhappily, it is very different with the persons before us.
+
+We let go the first two counts of the indictment. Their premises are, as
+we have said, such as we totally dissent from, and their conclusions
+such as naturally flow from those premises. Yet they are those of a
+large body of men, and there must, no doubt, be temporary good in this
+state of things, or it would not be permitted. When these writers say,
+that to them moral and penal are coincident terms, they display a state
+of mind which prefers basing virtue on the fear of punishment, rather
+than the love of right. If this be sincerely their state, if the idea of
+morality is with them entirely dependent on the retributions upon vice,
+rather than the loveliness and joys of goodness, it is impossible for
+those who are in a different state of mind to say what they _do_ need.
+It may seem to us, indeed, that, if the strait jacket was taken off,
+they might recover the natural energy of their frames, and do far better
+without it; or that, if no longer hurried along the road by the
+impending lash behind, they might uplift their eyes, and find sufficient
+cause for speed in the glory visible before, though at a distance;
+however, it is not for us to say what their wants are. Let them choose
+their own principles of action, and if they lead to purity of life, and
+benevolence, and humanity of heart, we will not say a word against them.
+
+But in the instance before us, they do not produce these good fruits,
+but the contrary; and therefore we have something to say on the other
+part of the criticism, to wit: that "the reasoning is sophistical, and
+the spirit diabolic;" for, indeed, in the sense of pride by which the
+angels fell, arrogance of judgment, malice, and all uncharitableness, we
+have never looked on printed pages more deeply sinful. We love an honest
+lover; but next best, we, with Dr. Johnson, know how to respect an
+honest hater. But even he would scarce endure so bitter and ardent
+haters as these, and with so many and inconsistent objects of
+hatred--who hate Catholics and thorough Protestants, hate materialists,
+and hate spiritualists. Their list is really too large for _human_
+sympathy.
+
+We wish, however, to make all due allowance for incapacity in these
+writers to do better; and their disqualifications for their task, apart
+from a form of belief which inclines them rather to cling to the past,
+than to seek progress for the future, seem to be many.
+
+The "reasoning is sophistical," and it would need the patience of a
+Socrates to unravel the weary web, and convince these sophists, against
+their will, that they are exactly in the opposite region to what they
+suppose. For the task we have not space, skill, or patience; but we can
+give some hints by which readers may be led to examine whether it is so
+or not.
+
+These writers profess to occupy the position of defence; surely never
+was one sustained so in the spirit of offence.
+
+1st. They appeal either to the natural or regenerate man, as suits their
+purpose. Sometimes all traditions and their literal interpretations are
+right; sometimes it is impossible to interpret them aright, unless
+according to some peculiar doctrine, and the natural inference of the
+common mind would be an error.
+
+2d. They strain, but vainly, to show the New Testament no improvement on
+the Old, and themselves in harmonious relations to both. On this subject
+we would confidently leave the arbitration to a mind--could such a one
+be found--sufficiently disciplined to examine the subject, and new both
+to the New Testament and this volume, as that of Rammohun Roy might have
+been, whether its views are not of the same strain that Jesus sought to
+correct and enlighten among the Jews, and whether the writers do not
+treat the teachings of the new dispensation most unfairly, in their
+desire to wrest them into the service of the old.
+
+3d. Wherever there is a weak place in the argument, it is filled up by
+abuse of the opposite party. The words "absurd," "infidel,"
+"blasphemous," "shallow philosophy," "sickly sentimentalism," and the
+like, are among the favorite missiles of these _defenders_ of the truth.
+They are of a sort whose frequent use is generally supposed to argue the
+want of a shield of reason and a heart of faith.
+
+And this brings us to a more close consideration of the spirit of this
+book, characterized by our contemporary as "diabolic." And we, also,
+cannot excuse ourselves from marking it as, in this respect, one of the
+worst books we have ever seen.
+
+It is not merely bitter intolerance, arrogance, and want of spiritual
+perception, which we have to condemn in these writers. It is a want of
+fairness and honor, of which we think they must be conscious. We fear
+they are of those who hold the opinion that the end sanctifies the
+means, and who, by pretending to serve the God of truth by other means
+than strict truth, have drawn upon the "ministers of religion" the
+frequent obloquy of "priestcraft." How else are we to construe the
+artful use of the words "dishonest" and "infidel," wherever they are
+likely to awaken the fears and prejudices of the ignorant?
+
+Of as bad a stamp as any is the part of this book headed "Spurious
+Public Opinion." Here, as in the insinuations against Charles Burleigh,
+we are unable to believe the writers to be sincere. Where we think they
+are, however poor and narrow we may esteem their statement, we can
+respect it, but here we cannot.
+
+Who can believe that such passages as the following stand for any thing
+real in the mind of the writer?
+
+"Indeed, there is nothing that can possibly check the spirit of murder,
+but the fear of death. That was all that Cain feared; he did not say,
+People will put me in prison, but, They will put me to death; _and how
+many other murders he may have committed, when released from that fear,
+the sacred writer does not tell us_!"
+
+Why does not the writer of this passage draw the inference, and accuse
+God of mistake, as he says his opponents accuse Him, whenever they
+attempt to get beyond the Jewish ideas of vengeance. He plainly thinks
+death was the only safe penalty in this case of Cain.
+
+"The reasoning from these drivellings of depravity in malefactors is to
+the last degree wretched and absurd. Hard pushed indeed must he be in
+argument who can consent to dive down into the polluted heart of a
+Newgate criminal, in order to fish up, from the confessions of his
+monstrous, unnatural obduracy, an argument in that very obduracy against
+the fit punishment of his own crimes."
+
+We can only wish for such a man, that the vicissitudes of life may break
+through the crust of theological arrogance and Phariseeism, and force
+him to "dive down" into the depths of his own nature. We should see
+afterwards whether he would be so forward to throw stones at
+malefactors, so eager to hurry souls to what he regards as a final
+account.
+
+But we have said enough as to the spirit and tendency of this book. We
+shall only add a few words as to the unworthy use of the word "infidel,"
+in the attempt to fix a stigma upon opponents. We feel still more
+contempt than indignation at the desire to work in this way on the
+unthinking and ignorant.
+
+We ourselves are of the number stigmatized by these persons as sharing
+an infidel tendency, as are all not enlisted under their own sectarian
+banner. They, on their side, seem to us unbelievers in all that is most
+pure and holy, and in the saving grace of love. They do not believe in
+God, as we believe; they seem to us utterly deficient in the spirit of
+Christ, and to be of the number of those who are always calling, "Lord,
+Lord," yet never have known him. We find throughout these pages the
+temper of "Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other men are"--hatred of
+those whom they deem Gentiles, and a merciless spirit towards the
+sinner; yet we do not take upon ourselves to give them the name of
+infidels, and we solemnly call them to trial before the bar of the Only
+Wise and Pure, the Searcher of hearts, to render an account of this
+daring assumption. We ask them in that presence, if they are not of the
+class threatened with "retribution" for saying to their brother, "Thou
+fool;" and that not merely in the heat of anger, but coolly,
+pertinaciously, and in a thousand ways.
+
+We call to sit in council the spirits of our Puritan fathers, and ask if
+such was the right of individual judgment, of private conscience, they
+came here to vindicate. And we solicit the verdict of posterity as to
+whether the spirit of mercy or of vengeance be the more divine, and
+whether the denunciatory and personal mode chosen by these writers for
+carrying on this inquiry be the true one.
+
+We wish most sincerely this book had been a wise and noble one. To
+ascertain just principles, it is necessary that the discussion should be
+full and fair, and both sides ably argued. After this has been done, the
+sense of the world can decide. It would be a happiness for which it
+might seem that man at this time of day is ripe, that the opposing
+parties should meet in open lists as brothers, believing each that the
+other desired only that the truth should triumph, and able to clasp
+hands as men of different structure and ways of thinking, but
+fellow-students of the divine will. O, had we but found such an
+adversary, above the use of artful abuse, or the feints of sophistry,
+able to believe in the noble intention, of a foe as of a friend, how
+cheerily would the trumpets ring out while the assembled world echoed
+the signal words, "GOD SPEED THE RIGHT!" The tide of progress rolls
+onward, swelling more and more with the lives of those who would fain
+see all men called to repentance. It must be a strong arm, indeed, that
+can build a dam to stay it even for a moment. None such do we see yet;
+but we should rejoice in a noble and strong opponent, putting forth all
+his power for conscience's sake. God speed the Right!
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+MISCELLANIES.
+
+
+
+
+FIRST OF JANUARY
+
+
+The new year dawns, and its appearance is hailed by a flutter of
+festivity. Men and women run from house to house, scattering gifts,
+smiles, and congratulations. It is a custom that seems borrowed from a
+better day, unless indeed it be a prophecy that such must come.
+
+For why so much congratulation? A year has passed; we are nearer by a
+twelvemonth to the term of this earthly probation. It is a solemn
+thought; and though the consciousness of having hallowed the days by our
+best endeavor, and of having much occasion to look to the Ruling Power
+of all with grateful benediction, must, in cases where such feelings are
+unalloyed, bring joy, one would think it must even then be a grave joy,
+and one that would disincline to this loud gayety in welcoming a new
+year; another year--in which we may, indeed, strive forward in a good
+spirit, and find our strivings blest, but must surely expect trials,
+temptations, and disappointments from without; frailty, short-coming, or
+convulsion in ourselves.
+
+If it be appropriate to a reflective habit of mind to ask with each
+night-fall the Pythagorean questions, how much more so at the close of
+the year!
+
+    "What hast thou done that's worth the doing?
+    And what pursued that's worth pursuing?
+    What sought thou knewest thou shouldst shun?
+    What done thou shouldst have left undone?"
+
+The intellectual man will also ask, What new truths have been opened to
+me, or what facts presented that will lead to the discovery of truths?
+The poet and the lover,--What new forms of beauty have been presented
+for my delight, and as memorable illustrations of the divine
+presence--unceasing, but oftentimes unfelt by our sluggish natures.
+
+Are there many men who fail sometimes to ask themselves questions to
+this depth? who do not care to know whether they have done right, or
+forborne to do wrong; whether their spirits have been enlightened by
+truth, or kindled by beauty?
+
+Yes, strange to say, there are many who, despite the natural aspirations
+of the soul and the revelations showered upon the world, think only
+whether they have made money; whether the world thinks more highly of
+them than it did in bygone years; whether wife and children have been in
+good bodily health, and what those who call to pay their respects and
+drink the new year's coffee, will think of their carpets, new also.
+
+How often is it that the rich man thinks even of that proposed by
+Dickens as the noblest employment of the season, making the poor happy
+in the way he likes best for himself, by distribution of turkey and
+plum-pudding! Some, indeed, adorn the day with this much grace, though
+we doubt whether it be oftenest those who could each, with ease, make
+that one day a glimpse of comfort to a thousand who pass the other
+winter days in shivering poverty. But some such there are who go about
+to the dark and frosty dwellings, giving the "mite" where and when it is
+most needed. We knew a lady, all whose riches consisted in her good head
+and two hands. Widow of an eminent lawyer, but keeping boarders for a
+livelihood; engaged in that hardest of occupations, with her house full
+and her hands full, she yet found time to make and bake for new year's
+day a hundred pies--and not the pie from which, being cut, issued the
+famous four-and-twenty blackbirds, gave more cause for merriment, or was
+a fitter "dish to set before the king."
+
+God bless his majesty, the _good_ king, who on such a day cares for the
+least as much as the greatest; and like Henry IV., proposes it as a
+worthy aim of his endeavor that "every poor man shall have his chicken
+in the pot." This does not seem, on superficial survey, such a wonderful
+boon to crave for creatures made in God's own likeness, yet is it one
+that no king could ever yet bestow on his subjects, if we except the
+king of Cockaigne. Our maker of the hundred pies is the best prophet we
+have seen, as yet, of such a blissful state.
+
+But mostly to him who hath is given in material as well as in spiritual
+things, and we fear the pleasures of this day are arranged almost wholly
+in reference to the beautiful, the healthy, the wealthy, the witty, and
+that but few banquets are prepared for the halt, the blind, and the
+sorrowful. But where they are, of a surety water turns to wine by
+inevitable Christ-power; no aid of miracle need be invoked. As for
+thoughts which should make an epoch of the period, we suppose the number
+of these to be in about the same proportion to the number of minds
+capable of thought, that the pearls now existent bear to the oysters
+still subsistent.
+
+Can we make pearls from our oyster-bed? At least, let us open some of
+the shells and try.
+
+Dear public and friends! we wish you a happy new year. We trust that the
+year past has given earnest of such a one in so far as having taught
+you somewhat how to deserve and to appreciate it.
+
+For ourselves, the months have brought much, though, perhaps,
+superficial instruction. Its scope has been chiefly love and hope for
+all human beings, and among others for thyself.
+
+We have seen many fair poesies of human life, in which, however, the
+tragic thread has not been wanting. We have beheld the exquisite
+developments of childhood, and sunned the heart in its smiles. But also
+have we discerned the evil star looming up that threatened cloud and
+wreck to its future years. We have seen beings of some precious gifts
+lost irrecoverably, as regards this present life, from inheritance of a
+bad organization and unfortunate circumstances of early years. The
+victims of vice we have observed lying in the gutter, companied by
+vermin, trampled upon by sensuality and ignorance, and saw those who
+wished not to rise, and those who strove so to do, but fell back through
+weakness. Sadder and more ominous still, we have seen the good man--in
+many impulses and acts of most pure, most liberal, and undoubted
+goodness--yet have we noted a spot of base indulgence, a fibre of
+brutality canker in a vital part this fine plant, and, while we could
+not withdraw love and esteem for the good we could not doubt, have wept
+secretly in the heart for the ill we could not deny. We have observed
+two deaths; one of the sinner, early cut down; one of the just, full of
+years and honor--_both_ were calm; both professed their reliance on the
+wisdom of a heavenly Father. We have looked upon the beauteous shows of
+nature in undisturbed succession, holy moonlight on the snows, loving
+moonlight on the summer fields, the stars which disappoint never and
+bless ever, the flowing waters which soothe and stimulate, a garden of
+roses calling for queens among women, poets and heroes among men. We
+have marked a desire to answer to this call, and genius brought rich
+wine, but spilt it on the way, from her careless, fickle gait; and
+virtue tainted with a touch of the peacock; and philosophy, never
+enjoying, always seeking, had got together all the materials for the
+crowning experiment, but there was no love to kindle the fire under the
+furnace, and the precious secret is not precipitated yet, for the pot
+will not boil to make the gold through your
+
+    "Double, double,
+     Toil and trouble,"
+
+if love do not fan the fire.
+
+We have seen the decay of friendships unable to endure the light of an
+ideal hope--have seen, too, their resurrection in a faith and hope
+beyond the tomb, where the form lies we once so fondly cherished. It is
+not dead, but sleepeth; and we watch, but must weep, too, sometimes, for
+the night is cold and lonely in the place of tombs.
+
+Nature has appeared dressed in her veil of snowy flowers for the bridal.
+We have seen her brooding over her joys, a young mother in the pride and
+fulness of beauty, and then bearing her offspring to their richly
+ornamented sepulchre, and lately observed her as if kneeling with folded
+hands in the stillness of prayer, while the bare trees and frozen
+streams bore witness to her patience.
+
+O, much, much have we seen, and a little learned. Such is the record of
+the private mind; and yet, as the bright snake-skin is cast, many sigh
+and cry,--
+
+                "The wiser mind
+    Mourns less for what Time takes away
+    Than what he leaves behind."
+
+But for ourselves, we find there is kernel in the nut, though its
+ripening be deferred till the late frosty weather, and it prove a hard
+nut to crack even then. Looking at the individual, we see a degree of
+growth, or the promise of such. In the child there is a force which will
+outlast the wreck, and reach at last the promised shore. The good man,
+once roused from his moral lethargy, shall make atonement for his fault,
+and endure a penance that will deepen and purify his whole nature. The
+poor lost ones claim a new trial in a new life, and will there, we
+trust, seize firmer hold on the good for the experience they have had of
+the bad.
+
+            "We never see the stars
+    Till we can see nought else."
+
+The seeming losses are, in truth, but as pruning of the vine to make the
+grapes swell more richly.
+
+But how is it with those larger individuals, the nations, and that
+congress of such, the world? We must take a broad and superficial view
+of these, as we have of private life; and in neither case can more be
+done. The secrets of the confessional, or rather of the shrine, do not
+come on paper, unless in poetic form.
+
+So we will not try to search and mine, but only to look over the world
+from an ideal point of view.
+
+Here we find the same phenomena repeated; the good nation is yet somehow
+so sick at heart that you are not sure its goodness will ever produce a
+harmony of life; over the young nation, (our own,) rich in energy and
+full of glee, brood terrible omens; others, as Poland and Italy, seem
+irrecoverably lost. They may revive, but we feel as if it must be under
+new forms.
+
+Forms come and go, but principles are developed and displayed more and
+more. The caldron simmers, and so great is the fire that we expect it
+soon to boil over, and new fates appear for Europe.
+
+Spain is dying by inches; England shows symptoms of having passed her
+meridian; Austria has taken opium, but she must awake ere long; France
+is in an uneasy dream--she knows she has been very sick, has had
+terrible remedies administered, and ought to be getting thoroughly well,
+which she is not. Louis Philippe watches by her pillow, doses and
+bleeds her, so that she cannot fairly try her strength, and find whether
+something or nothing has been done. But Louis Philippe and Metternich
+must soon, in the course of nature, leave this scene; and then there
+will be none to keep out air and light from the chamber, and the
+patients will be roused and ascertain their true condition.
+
+No power is in the ascending course except the Russian; and that has
+such a condensation of brute force, animated by despotic will, that it
+seems sometimes as if it might by and by stride over Europe and face us
+across the water. Then would be opposed to one another the two extremes
+of Autocracy and Democracy, and a trial of strength would ensue between
+the two principles more grand and full than any ever seen on this
+planet, and of which the result must be to bind mankind by one chain of
+convictions. Should, indeed, Despotism and Democracy meet as the two
+slaveholding powers of the world, the result can hardly be predicted.
+But there is room in the intervening age for many changes, and the czars
+profess to wish to free their serfs, as our planters do to free their
+slaves, and we suppose with equal sincerity; but the need of sometimes
+professing such desires is a deference to the progress of principles
+which bid fair to have their era yet.
+
+We hope such an era steadfastly, notwithstanding the deeds of darkness
+that have made this year forever memorable in our annals. Our nation has
+indeed shown that the lust of gain is at present her ruling passion. She
+is not only resolute, but shameless, about it, and has no doubt or
+scruple as to laying aside the glorious office, assigned her by fate, of
+herald of freedom, light, and peace to the civilized world.
+
+Yet we must not despair. Even so the Jewish king, crowned with all gifts
+that Heaven could bestow, was intoxicated by their plenitude, and went
+astray after the most worthless idols. But he was not permitted to
+forfeit finally the position designed for him: he was drawn or dragged
+back to it; and so shall it be with this nation. There are trials in
+store which shall amend us.
+
+We must believe that the pure blood shown in the time of our revolution
+still glows in the heart; but the body of our nation is full of foreign
+elements. A large proportion of our citizens, or their parents, came
+here for worldly advantage, and have never raised their minds to any
+idea of destiny or duty. More money--more land! are all the watchwords
+they know. They have received the inheritance earned by the fathers of
+the revolution, without their wisdom and virtue to use it. But this
+cannot last. The vision of those prophetic souls must be realized, else
+the nation could not exist; every body must at least "have soul enough
+to save the expense of salt," or it cannot be preserved alive.
+
+What a year it has been with us! Texas annexed, and more annexations in
+store; slavery perpetuated, as the most striking new feature of these
+movements. Such are the fruits of American love of liberty! Mormons
+murdered and driven out, as an expression of American freedom of
+conscience; Cassius Clay's paper expelled from Kentucky; that is
+American freedom of the press. And all these deeds defended on the true
+Russian grounds, "We (the stronger) know what you (the weaker) ought to
+do and be, and it _shall_ be so."
+
+Thus the principles which it was supposed, some ten years back, had
+begun to regenerate the world, are left without a trophy for this past
+year, except in the spread of Ronge's movement in Germany, and that of
+associative and communist principles both here and in Europe, which, let
+the worldling deem as he will about their practicability, he cannot deny
+to be animated by faith in God and a desire for the good of man. We must
+add to these the important symptoms of the spread of peace principles.
+
+Meanwhile, if the more valuable springs of action seem to lie dormant
+for a time, there is a constant invention and perfection of the means of
+action and communication which seems to say, "Do but wait patiently;
+there is something of universal importance to be done by and by, and all
+is preparing for it to be universally known and used at once." Else what
+avail magnetic telegraphs, steamers, and rail-cars traversing every rood
+of land and ocean, phonography and the mingling of all literatures, till
+North embraces South and Denmark lays her head upon the lap of Italy?
+Surely there would not be all this pomp of preparation as to the means
+of communion, unless there were like to be something worthy to be
+communicated.
+
+Amid the signs of the breaking down of barriers, we may mention the
+Emperor Nicholas letting his daughter pass from the Greek to the Roman
+church, for the sake of marrying her to the Austrian prince. Again,
+similarity between him and us: he, too, is shameless; for while he signs
+this marriage contract with one hand, he holds the knout in the other to
+drive the Roman Catholic Poles into the Greek church. But it is a fatal
+sign for his empire. 'Tis but the first step that costs, and the
+Russians may look back to the marriage of the Grand Duchess Olga, as the
+Chinese will to the cannonading of the English, as the first sign of
+dissolution in the present form of national life.
+
+A similar token is given by the violation of etiquette of which Mr. Polk
+is accused in his message. He, at the head of a government, speaks of
+governments and their doings straightforward, as he would of persons,
+and the tower, stronghold of the idea of a former age, now propped up by
+etiquettes and civilities only, trembles to its foundation.
+
+Another sign of the times is the general panic which the decay of the
+potato causes. We believe this is not without a providential meaning,
+and will call attention still more to the wants of the people at large.
+New and more provident regulations must be brought out, that they may
+not again be left with only a potato between them and starvation. By
+another of these whimsical coincidences between the histories of
+Aristocracy and Democracy, the supply of _truffles_ is also failing.
+The land is losing the "nice things" that the queen (truly a young
+queen) thought might be eaten in place of bread. Does not this indicate
+a period in which it will be felt that there must be provision for
+all--the rich shall not have their truffles if the poor are driven to
+eat nettles, as the French and Irish have in bygone ages?
+
+The poem of which we here give a prose translation lately appeared in
+Germany. It is written by Moritz Hartmann, and contains the _gist_ of
+the matter.
+
+
+MISTRESS POTATO.
+
+There was a great stately house full of people, who have been running in
+and out of its lofty gates ever since the gray times of Olympus. There
+they wept, laughed, shouted, mourned, and, like day and night, came the
+usual changes of joys with plagues and sorrows. Haunting that great
+house up and down, making, baking, and roasting, covering and waiting on
+the table, has there lived a vast number of years a loyal serving maid
+of the olden time--her name was Mrs. Potato. She was a still, little,
+old mother, who wore no bawbles or laces, but always had to be satisfied
+with her plain, every-day clothes; and unheeded, unhonored, oftentimes
+jeered at and forgotten, she served all day at the kitchen fire, and
+slept at night in the worst room. When she brought the dishes to table
+she got rarely a thankful glance; only at times some very poor man would
+in secret shake kindly her hand.
+
+Generation after generation passed by, as the trees blossom, bear fruit,
+and wither; but faithful remained the old housemaid, always the servant
+of the last heir.
+
+But one morning--hear what happened. All the people came to table, and
+lo! there was nothing to eat, for our good old Mistress Potato had not
+been able to rise from her bed. She felt sharp pains creeping through
+her poor old bones. No wonder she was worn out at last! She had not in
+all her life dared take a day's rest, lest so the poor should starve.
+Indeed, it is wonderful that her good will should have kept her up so
+long. She must have had a great constitution to begin with.
+
+The guests had to go away without breakfast. They were a little
+troubled, but hoped to make up for it at dinner time. But dinner time
+came, and the table was empty; and then, indeed, they began to inquire
+about the welfare of Cookmaid Potato. And up into her dark chamber,
+where she lay on her poor bed, came great and little, young and old, to
+ask after the good creature. "What can be done for her?" "Bring warm
+clothes, medicine, a better bed." "Lay aside your work to help her." "If
+she dies we shall never again be able to fill the table;" and now,
+indeed, they sang her praises.
+
+O, what a fuss about the sick bed in that moist and mouldy chamber! and
+out doors it was just the same--priests with their masses, processions,
+and prayers, and all the world ready to walk to penance, if Mistress
+Potato could but be saved. And the doctors in their wigs, and
+counsellors in masks of gravity, sat there to devise some remedy to
+avert this terrible ill.
+
+As when a most illustrious dame is recovering from birth of a son, so
+now bulletins inform the world of the health of Mistress Potato, and,
+not content with what they thus learn, couriers and lackeys besiege the
+door; nay, the king's coach is stopping there. Yes! yes! the humble poor
+maid, 'tis about her they are all so frightened! Who would ever have
+believed it in days when the table was nicely covered?
+
+The gentlemen of pens and books, priests, kings, lords, and ministers,
+all have senses to scent our famine. Natheless Mistress Potato gets no
+better. May God help her for the sake, not of such people, but of the
+poor. For the great it is a token they should note, that all must
+crumble and fall to ruin, if they will work and weary to death the poor
+maid who cooks in the kitchen.
+
+She lived for you in the dirt and ashes, provided daily for poor and
+rich; you ought to humble yourselves for her sake. Ah, could we hope
+that you would take a hint, and _next time_ pay some heed to the
+housemaid before she is worn and wearied to death!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So sighs, rather than hopes, Moritz Hartmann. The wise ministers of
+England, indeed, seem much more composed than he supposes them. They are
+like the old man who, when he saw the avalanche coming down upon his
+village, said, "It is coming, but I shall have time to fill my pipe once
+more." _He_ went in to do so, and was buried beneath the ruins. But Sir
+Robert Peel, who is so deliberate, has, doubtless, manna in store for
+those who have lost their customary food.
+
+Another sign of the times is, that there are left on the earth none of
+the last dynasty of geniuses, rich in so many imperial heads. The world
+is full of talent, but it flows downward to water the plain. There are
+no towering heights, no Mont Blancs now. We cannot recall one great
+genius at this day living. The time of prophets is over, and the era
+they prophesied must be at hand; in its couduct a larger proportion of
+the human race shall take part than ever before. As prime ministers have
+succeeded kings in the substantiate of monarchy, so now shall a house of
+representatives succeed prime ministers.
+
+Altogether, it looks as if a great time was coming, and that time one of
+democracy. Our country will play a ruling part. Her eagle will lead the
+van; but whether to soar upward to the sun or to stoop for helpless
+prey, who now dares promise? At present she has scarce achieved a Roman
+nobleness, a Roman liberty; and whether her eagle is less like the
+vulture, and more like the Phoeix, than was the fierce Roman bird, we
+dare not say. May the new year give hopes of the latter, even if the
+bird need first to be purified by fire.
+
+_Jan. 1, 1846._
+
+
+
+
+NEW YEAR'S DAY.
+
+
+It was a beautiful custom among some of the Indian tribes, once a year,
+to extinguish all the fires, and, by a day of fasting and profound
+devotion, to propitiate the Great Spirit for the coming year. They then
+produced sparks by friction, and lighted up afresh the altar and the
+hearth with the new fire.
+
+And this fire was considered as the most precious and sacred gift from
+one person to another, binding them in bonds of inviolate friendship for
+that year, certainly; with a hope that the same might endure through
+life. From the young to the old, it was a token of the highest respect;
+from the old to the young, of a great expectation.
+
+To us would that it might be granted to solemnize the new year by the
+mental renovation of which this ceremony was the eloquent symbol. Would
+that we might extinguish, if only for a day, those fires where an
+uninformed religious ardor has led to human sacrifices; which have
+warmed the household, but, also, prepared pernicious, more than
+wholesome, viands for their use.
+
+The Indian produced the new spark by friction. It would be a still more
+beautiful emblem, and expressive of the more extended powers of
+civilized men, if we should draw the spark from the centre of our system
+and the source of light, by means of the burning glass.
+
+Where, then, is to be found the new knowledge, the new thought, the new
+hope, that shall begin a new year in a spirit not discordant with "the
+acceptable year of the Lord"? Surely there must be such existing, if
+latent--some sparks of new fire, pure from ashes and from smoke, worthy
+to be offered as a new year's gift. Let us look at the signs of the
+times, to see in what spot this fire shall be sought--on what fuel it
+may be fed. The ancients poured out libations of the choicest juices of
+earth, to express their gratitude to the Power that had enabled them to
+be sustained from her bosom. They enfranchised slaves, to show that
+devotion to the gods induced a sympathy with men.
+
+Let us look about us to see with what rites, what acts of devotion, this
+modern Christian nation greets the approach of the new year; by what
+signs she denotes the clear morning of a better day, such as may be
+expected when the eagle has entered into covenant with the dove.
+
+This last week brings tidings that a portion of the inhabitants of
+Illinois, the rich and blooming region on which every gift of nature has
+been lavished, to encourage the industry and brighten the hopes of man,
+not only refuses a libation to the Power that has so blessed their
+fields, but declares that the dew is theirs, and the sunlight is
+theirs--that they live from and for themselves, acknowledging no
+obligation and no duty to God or to man.[28]
+
+One man has freed a slave; but a great part of the nation is now busy in
+contriving measures that may best rivet the fetters on those now
+chained, and forge them strongest for millions yet unborn.
+
+Selfishness and tyranny no longer wear the mask; they walk haughtily
+abroad, affronting with their hard-hearted boasts and brazen resolves
+the patience of the sweet heavens. National honor is trodden under foot
+for a national bribe, and neither sex nor age defends the redresser of
+injuries from the rage of the injurer.
+
+Yet, amid these reports which come flying on the paperwings of every
+day, the scornful laugh of the gnomes, who begin to believe they can
+buy all souls with their gold, was checked a moment when the aged
+knight[29] of the better cause answered the challenge--truly in keeping
+with the "chivalry" of the time--"You are in the wrong, and I will kick
+you," by holding the hands of the chevalier till those around secured
+him. We think the man of old must have held him with his eye, as
+physicians of moral power can insane patients. Great as are his exploits
+for his age, he cannot have much bodily strength, unless by miracle.
+
+The treatment of Mr. Adams and Mr. Hoar seems to show that we are not
+fitted to emulate the savages in preparation for the new fire. The
+Indians knew how to reverence the old and the wise.
+
+Among the manifestos of the day, it is impossible not to respect that of
+the Mexican minister for the manly indignation with which he has uttered
+truths, however deep our mortification at hearing them. It has been
+observed for the last fifty years, that the tone of diplomatic
+correspondence was much improved, as to simplicity and directness. Once,
+diplomacy was another name for intrigue, and a paper of this sort was
+expected to be a mesh of artful phrases, through which the true meaning
+might be detected, but never actually grasped. Now, here is one where an
+occasion being afforded by the unutterable folly of the corresponding
+party, a minister speaks the truth as it lies in his mind, directly and
+plainly, as man speaks to man. His statement will command the sympathy
+of the civilized world.
+
+As to the state papers that have followed, they are of a nature to make
+the Austrian despot sneer, as he counts in his oratory the woollen
+stockings he has got knit by imprisoning all the free geniuses in his
+dominions. He, at least, only appeals to the legitimacy of blood; these
+dare appeal to legitimacy, as seen from a moral point of view. History
+will class such claims with the brags of sharpers, who bully their
+victims about their honor, while they stretch forth their hands for the
+gold they have won with loaded dice. "Do you dare to say the dice are
+loaded? Prove it; _and_ I will shoot you for injuring my honor."
+
+The Mexican makes his gloss on the page of American honor;[30] the
+girl[31] in the Kentucky prison on that of her freedom; the delegate of
+Massachusetts,[32] on that of her union. Ye stars, whose image America
+has placed upon her banner, answer us! Are not your unions of a
+different sort? Do they not work to other results?
+
+Yet we cannot lightly be discouraged, or alarmed, as to the destiny of
+our country. The whole history of its discovery and early progress
+indicates too clearly the purposes of Heaven with regard to it. Could we
+relinquish the thought that it was destined for the scene of a new and
+illustrious act in the great drama, the past would be inexplicable, no
+less than the future without hope.
+
+Last week, which brought us so many unpleasant notices of home affairs,
+brought also an account of the magnificent telescope lately perfected by
+the Earl of Rosse. With means of observation now almost divine, we
+perceive that some of the brightest stars, of which Sirius is one, have
+dark companions, whose presence is, by earthly spectators, only to be
+detected from the inequalities they cause in the motions of their
+radiant companions. It was a new and most imposing illustration how, in
+carrying out the divine scheme, of which we have as yet only spelled out
+the few first lines, the dark is made to wait upon, and, in the full
+result, harmonize with, the bright. The sense of such pervasive
+analogies should enlarge patience and animate hope.
+
+Yet, if offences must come, woe be to those by whom they come; and that
+of men, who sin against a heritage like ours, is as that of the
+backsliders among the chosen people of the elder day. We, too, have been
+chosen, and plain indications been given, by a wonderful conjunction of
+auspicious influences, that the ark of human hopes has been placed for
+the present in our charge. Woe be to those who betray this trust! On
+their heads are to be heaped the curses of unnumbered ages!
+
+Can he sleep, who in this past year has wickedly or lightly committed
+acts calculated to injure the few or many; who has poisoned the ears and
+the hearts he might have rightly informed; who has steeped in tears the
+cup of thousands; who has put back, as far as in him lay, the
+accomplishment of general good and happiness for the sake of his selfish
+aggrandizement or selfish luxury; who has sold to a party what was meant
+for mankind? If such sleep, dreadful shall be the waking.
+
+"Deliver us from evil." In public or in private, it is easy to give
+pain--hard to give pure pleasure; easy to do evil--hard to do good. God
+does his good in the whole, despite of bad men; but only from a very
+pure mind will he permit original good to proceed in the day. Happy
+those who can feel that during the past year, they have, to the best of
+their knowledge, refrained from evil. Happy those who determine to
+proceed in this by the light of conscience. It is but a spark; yet from
+that spark may be drawn fire-light enough for worlds and systems of
+worlds--and that light is ever new.
+
+And with this thought rises again the memory of the fair lines that
+light has brought to view in the histories of some men. If the nation
+tends to wrong, there are yet present the ten just men. The hands and
+lips of this great form may be impure, but pure blood flows yet within
+her veins--the blood of the noble bands who first sought these shores
+from the British isles and France, for conscience sake. Too many have
+come since, for bread alone. We cannot blame--we must not reject them;
+but let us teach them, in giving them bread, to prize that salt, too,
+without which all on earth must lose its savor. Yes! let us teach them,
+not rail at their inevitable ignorance and unenlightened action, but
+teach them and their children as our own; if we do so, their children
+and ours may yet act as one body obedient to one soul; and if we act
+rightly now, that soul a pure soul.
+
+And ye, sable bands, forced hither against your will, kept down here now
+by a force hateful to nature, a will alien from God! It does sometimes
+seem as if the avenging angel wore your hue, and would place in your
+hands the sword to punish the cruel injustice of our fathers, the
+selfish perversity of the sons. Yet are there no means of atonement?
+Must the innocent suffer with the guilty? Teach us, O All-Wise, the clew
+out of this labyrinth; and if we faithfully encounter its darkness and
+dread, and emerge into clear light, wilt thou not bid us "go and sin no
+more"?
+
+Meanwhile, let us proceed as we can, _picking our steps_ along the
+slippery road. If we keep the right direction, what matters it that we
+must pass through so much mud? The promise is sure:--
+
+    Angels shall free the feet from stain, to their own hue of snow,
+    If, undismayed, we reach the hills where the true olives grow.
+      The olive groves, which we must seek in cold and damp,
+      Alone can yield us oil for a perpetual lamp.
+    Then sound again the golden horn with promise ever new;
+    The princely deer will ne'er be caught by those that slack pursue;
+    Let the "White Doe" of angel hopes be always kept in view.
+
+    Yes! sound again the horn--of hope the golden horn!
+    Answer it, flutes and pipes, from valleys still and lorn;
+    Warders, from your high towers, with trumps of silver scorn,
+    And harps in maidens' bowers, with strings from deep hearts torn,--
+    All answer to the horn--of hope the golden horn!
+
+There is still hope, there is still an America, while private lives are
+ruled by the Puritan, by the Huguenot conscientiousness, and while there
+are some who can repudiate, not their debts, but the supposition that
+they will not strive to pay their debts to their age, and to Heaven, who
+gave them a share in its great promise.
+
+
+
+
+ST. VALENTINES DAY.
+
+
+This merry season of light jokes and lighter love-tokens, in which Cupid
+presents the feathered end of the dart, as if he meant to tickle before
+he wounded the captive, has always had a great charm for me. When but a
+child, I saw Allston's picture of the "Lady reading a Valentine," and
+the mild womanliness of the picture, so remote from passion no less than
+vanity, so capable of tenderness, so chastely timid in its
+self-possession, has given a color to the gayest thoughts connected with
+the day. From the ruff of Allston's Lady, whose clear starch is made to
+express all rosebud thoughts of girlish retirement, the soft unfledged
+hopes which never yet were tempted from the nest, to Sam Weller's
+Valentine, is indeed a broad step, but one which we can take without
+material change of mood.
+
+But of all the thoughts and pictures associated with the day, none can
+surpass in interest those furnished by the way in which we celebrated it
+last week.
+
+The Bloomingdale Asylum for the Insane is conducted on the most wise and
+liberal plan known at the present day. Its superintendent, Dr. Earle,
+has had ample opportunity to observe the best modes of managing this
+class of diseases both here and in Europe, and he is one able, by
+refined sympathies and intellectual discernment, to apply the best that
+is known and to discover more.
+
+Under his care the beautifully situated establishment at Bloomingdale
+loses every sign of the hospital and the prison, not long since thought
+to be inseparable from such a place. It is a house of refuge, where
+those too deeply wounded or disturbed in body or spirit to keep up that
+semblance or degree of sanity which the conduct of affairs in the world
+at large demands, may be soothed by gentle care, intelligent sympathy,
+and a judicious attention to their physical welfare, into health, or, at
+least, into tranquillity.
+
+Dr. Earle, in addition to modes of turning the attention from causes of
+morbid irritation, and promoting brighter and juster thoughts, which he
+uses in common with other institutions, has this winter delivered a
+course of lectures to the patients. We were present at one of these some
+weeks since. The subjects touched upon were, often, of a nature to
+demand as close attention as an audience of regular students (not
+college students, but real students) can be induced to give. The large
+assembly present were almost uniformly silent, to appearance interested,
+and showed a power of decorum and self-government often wanting among
+those who esteem themselves in healthful mastery of their morals and
+manners. We saw, with great satisfaction, generous thoughts and solid
+pursuits offered, as well as light amusements, for the choice of the
+sick in mind. For it is our experience that such sickness arises as
+often from want of concentration as any other cause. One of the noblest
+youths that ever trod this soil was wont to say, "he was never tired, if
+he could only see far enough." He is now gone where his view may be less
+bounded; but we, who stay behind, may take the hint that mania, no less
+than the commonest forms of prejudice, bespeaks a mind which does not
+see far enough to correct partial impressions. No doubt, in many cases,
+dissipation of thought, after attention is once distorted into some
+morbid direction, may be the first method of cure; but we are glad to
+see others provided for those who are ready for them.
+
+St. Valentine's Eve had been appointed for one of the dancing parties at
+the institution, and a few friends from "the world's people" invited to
+be present.
+
+At an early hour the company assembled in the well-lighted hall, still
+gracefully wreathed with its Christmas evergreens; the music struck up
+and the company entered.
+
+And these are the people who, half a century ago, would have been
+chained in solitary cells, screaming out their anguish till silenced by
+threats or blows, lost, forsaken, hopeless, a blight to earth, a libel
+upon heaven!
+
+Now, they are many of them happy, all interested. Even those who are
+troublesome and subject to violent excitement in every-day scenes, show
+here that the power of self-control is not lost, only lessened. Give
+them an impulse strong enough, favorable circumstances, and they will
+begin to use it again. They regulate their steps to music; they restrain
+their impatient impulses from respect to themselves and to others. The
+Power which shall yet shape order from all disorder, and turn ashes to
+beauty, as violets spring up from green graves, hath them also in its
+keeping.
+
+The party were well dressed, with care and taste. The dancing was better
+than usual, because there was less of affectation and ennui. The party
+was more entertaining, because native traits came out more clear from
+the disguises of vanity and tact.
+
+There was the blue-stocking lady, a mature belle and bel-esprit. Her
+condescending graces, her rounded compliments, her girlish, yet "highly
+intellectual" vivacity, expressed no less in her head-dress than her
+manner, were just that touch above the common with which the illustrator
+of Dickens has thought fit to heighten the charms of Mrs. Leo Hunter.
+
+There was the travelled Englishman, _au fait_ to every thing beneath the
+moon and beyond. With his clipped and glib phrases, his bundle of
+conventionalities carried so neatly under his arm, and his "My dear
+sir," in the perfection of cockney dignity, what better could the most
+select dinner party furnish us in the way of distinguished strangerhood?
+
+There was the hoidenish young girl, and the decorous, elegant lady
+smoothing down "the wild little thing." There was the sarcastic observer
+on the folly of the rest; in that, the greatest fool of all, unbeloved
+and unloving. In contrast to this were characters altogether lovely,
+full of all sweet affections, whose bells, if jangled out of tune, still
+retained their true tone.
+
+One of the best things of the evening was a dance improvised by two
+elderly women. They asked the privilege of the floor, and, a suitable
+measure being played, performed this dance in a style lively,
+characteristic, yet moderate enough. It was true dancing, like peasant
+dancing.
+
+An old man sang comic songs in the style of various nations and
+characters, with a dramatic expression that would have commanded
+applause "on any stage."
+
+And all was done decently and in order, each biding his time. Slight
+symptoms of impatience here and there were easily soothed by the
+approach of this, truly "good physician," the touch of whose hand seemed
+to possess a talismanic power to soothe. We doubt not that all went to
+their beds exhilarated, free from irritation, and more attuned to
+concord than before. Good bishop Valentine! thy feast was well kept, and
+not without the usual jokes and flings at old bachelors, the exchange of
+sugar-plums, mottoes, and repartees.
+
+This is the second festival I have kept with those whom society has
+placed, not outside her pale, indeed, but outside the hearing of her
+benison. Christmas I passed in a prison! There, too, I saw marks of the
+miraculous power of love, when guided by a pure faith in the goodness of
+its source, and intelligence as to the design of the creative
+intelligence. I saw enough of its power, impeded as it was by the
+ignorance of those who, eighteen hundred years after the coming of
+Christ, still believe more in fear and force: I saw enough, I say, of
+this power to convince me, if I needed conviction, that love is indeed
+omnipotent, as He said it was.
+
+A companion, of that delicate nature by which a scar is felt as a
+wound, was saddened by the thought how very little our partialities,
+undue emotions, and manias need to be exaggerated to entitle us to rank
+among madmen. I cannot view it so. Rather let the sense that, with all
+our faults and follies, there is still a sound spot, a presentiment of
+eventual health in the inmost nature, embolden us to hope, to _know_ it
+is the same with all. A great thinker has spoken of the Greek, in
+highest praise, as "a self-renovating character." But we are all Greeks,
+if we will but think so. For the mentally or morally insane, there is no
+irreparable ill if the principle of life can but be aroused. And it can
+never be finally benumbed, except by our own will.
+
+One of the famous pictures at Munich is of a madhouse. The painter has
+represented the moral obliquities of society exaggerated into madness;
+that is to say, self-indulgence has, in each instance, destroyed the
+power to forbear the ill or to discern the good. A celebrated writer has
+added a little book, to be used while looking at the picture, and drawn
+inferences of universal interest.
+
+Such would we draw; such as this! Let no one dare to call another mad
+who is not himself willing to rank in the same class for every
+perversion and fault of judgment. Let no one dare aid in punishing
+another as criminal who is not willing to suffer the penalty due to his
+own offences.
+
+Yet, while owning that we are all mad, all criminal, let us not despair,
+but rather believe that the Ruler of all never could permit such
+wide-spread ill but to good ends. It is permitted to give us a field to
+redeem it--
+
+                "to transmute, bereave
+    Of an ill influence, and a good receive."
+
+It flows inevitably from the emancipation of our wills, the development
+of individuality in us. These aims accomplished, all shall yet be well;
+and it is ours to learn _how_ that good time may be hastened.
+
+We know no sign of the times more encouraging than the increasing
+nobleness and wisdom of view as to the government of asylums for the
+insane and of prisons. Whatever is learned as to these forms of society
+is learned for all. There is nothing that can be said of such government
+that must not be said, also, of the government of families, schools, and
+states. But we have much to say on this subject, and shall revert to it
+again, and often, though, perhaps, not with so pleasing a theme as this
+of St. Valentine's Eve.
+
+
+
+
+FOURTH OF JULY.
+
+
+The bells ring; the cannon rouse the echoes along the river shore; the
+boys sally forth with shouts and little flags, and crackers enough to
+frighten all the people they meet from sunrise to sunset. The orator is
+conning for the last time the speech in which he has vainly attempted to
+season with some new spice the yearly panegyric upon our country; its
+happiness and glory; the audience is putting on its best bib and tucker,
+and its blandest expression to listen.
+
+And yet, no heart, we think, can beat to-day with one pulse of genuine,
+noble joy. Those who have obtained their selfish objects will not take
+especial pleasure in thinking of them to-day, while to unbiassed minds
+must come sad thoughts of national honor soiled in the eyes of other
+nations, of a great inheritance risked, if not forfeited.
+
+Much has been achieved in this country since the Declaration of
+Independence. America is rich and strong; she has shown great talent and
+energy; vast prospects of aggrandizement open before her. But the noble
+sentiment which she expressed in her early youth is tarnished; she has
+shown that righteousness is not her chief desire, and her name is no
+longer a watchword for the highest hopes to the rest of the world. She
+knows this, but takes it very easily; she feels that she is growing
+richer and more powerful, and that seems to suffice her.
+
+These facts are deeply saddening to those who can pronounce the words
+"my country" with pride and peace only so far as steadfast virtues,
+generous impulses, find their home in that country. They cannot be
+satisfied with superficial benefits, with luxuries and the means of
+obtaining knowledge which are multiplied for them. They could rejoice in
+full hands and a busy brain, if the soul were expanding and the heart
+pure; but, the higher conditions being violated, what is done cannot be
+done for good.
+
+Such thoughts fill patriot minds as the cannon-peal bursts upon the ear.
+This year, which declares that the people at large consent to cherish
+and extend slavery as one of our "domestic institutions," takes from the
+patriot his home. This year, which attests their insatiate love of
+wealth and power, quenches the flame upon the altar.
+
+Yet there remains that good part which cannot be taken away. If nations
+go astray, the narrow path may always be found and followed by the
+individual man. It is hard, hard indeed, when politics and trade are
+mixed up with evils so mighty that he scarcely dares touch them for fear
+of being defiled. He finds his activity checked in great natural outlets
+by the scruples of conscience. He cannot enjoy the free use of his
+limbs, glowing upon a favorable tide; but struggling, panting, must fix
+his eyes upon his aim, and fight against the current to reach it. It is
+not easy, it is very hard just now, to realize the blessings of
+independence.
+
+For what _is_ independence if it do not lead to freedom?--freedom from
+fraud and meanness, from selfishness, from public opinion so far as it
+does not agree with the still, small voice of one's better self?
+
+Yet there remains a great and worthy part to play. This country presents
+great temptations to ill, but also great inducements to good. Her health
+and strength are so remarkable, her youth so full of life, that disease
+cannot yet have taken deep hold of her. It has bewildered her brain,
+made her steps totter, fevered, but not yet tainted, her blood. Things
+are still in that state when ten just men may save the city. A few men
+are wanted, able to think and act upon principles of an eternal value.
+The safety of the country must lie in a few such men; men who have
+achieved the genuine independence, independence of wrong, of violence,
+of falsehood.
+
+We want individuals to whom all eyes may turn as examples of the
+practicability of virtue. We want shining examples. We want
+deeply-rooted characters, who cannot be moved by flattery, by fear, even
+by hope, for they work in faith. The opportunity for such men is great;
+they will not be burned at the stake in their prime for bearing witness
+to the truth, yet they will be tested most severely in their adherence
+to it. There is nothing to hinder them from learning what is true and
+best; no physical tortures will be inflicted on them for expressing it.
+Let men feel that in private lives, more than in public measures, must
+the salvation of the country lie. If that country has so widely veered
+from the course she prescribed to herself, and that the hope of the
+world prescribed to her, it must be because she had not men ripened and
+confirmed for better things. They leaned too carelessly on one another;
+they had not deepened and purified the private lives from which the
+public vitality must spring, as the verdure of the plain from the
+fountains of the hills.
+
+What a vast influence is given by sincerity alone. The bier of General
+Jackson has lately passed, upbearing a golden urn. The men who placed it
+there lament his departure, and esteem the measures which have led this
+country to her present position wise and good. The other side esteem
+them unwise, unjust, and disastrous in their consequences. But both
+respect him thus far, that his conduct was boldly sincere. The sage of
+Quincy! Men differ in their estimate of his abilities. None, probably,
+esteem his mind as one of the first magnitude. But both sides, all men,
+are influenced by the bold integrity of his character. Mr. Calhoun
+speaks straight out what he thinks. So far as this straightforwardness
+goes, he confers the benefits of virtue. If a character be uncorrupted,
+whatever bias it takes, it thus far is good and does good. It may help
+others to a higher, wiser, larger independence than its own.
+
+We know not where to look for an example of all or many of the virtues
+we would seek from the man who is to begin the new dynasty that is
+needed of fathers of the country. The country needs to be born again;
+she is polluted with the lust of power, the lust of gain. She needs
+fathers good enough to be godfathers--men who will stand sponsors at the
+baptism with _all_ they possess, with all the goodness they can cherish,
+and all the wisdom they can win, to lead this child the way she should
+go, and never one step in another. Are there not in schools and colleges
+the boys who will become such men? Are there not those on the threshold
+of manhood who have not yet chosen the broad way into which the
+multitude rushes, led by the banner on which, strange to say, the royal
+Eagle is blazoned, together with the word Expediency? Let them decline
+that road, and take the narrow, thorny path where Integrity leads,
+though with no prouder emblem than the Dove. They may there find the
+needed remedy, which, like the white root, detected by the patient and
+resolved Odysseus, shall have power to restore the herd of men,
+disguised by the enchantress to whom they had willingly yielded in the
+forms of brutes, to the stature and beauty of men.
+
+
+
+
+FIRST OF AUGUST.
+
+
+Among the holidays of the year, some portion of our people borrow one
+from another land. They borrow what they fain would own, since their
+doing so would increase, not lessen, the joy and prosperity of the
+present owner. It is a holiday not to be celebrated, as others are, with
+boast, and shout, and gay procession, but solemnly, yet hopefully; in
+prayer and humiliation for much ill now existing; in faith that the God
+of good will not permit such ill to exist always; in aspiration to
+become his instruments for removal.
+
+We borrow this holiday from England. We know not that she could lend us
+another such. Her career has been one of selfish aggrandizement. To
+carry her flag wherever the waters flow; to leave a strong mark of her
+footprint on every shore, that she might return and claim its spoils; to
+maintain in every way her own advantage,--is and has been her object, as
+much as that of any nation upon earth. The plundered Hindoo, the wronged
+Irish,--for ourselves we must add the outraged Chinese, (for we look on
+all that has been written about the right of that war as mere
+sophistry,)--no less than Napoleon, walking up and down, in his "tarred
+great-coat," in the unwholesome lodge at St. Helena,--all can tell
+whether she be righteous or generous in her conquests. Nay, let myriads
+of her own children say whether she will abstain from sacrificing,
+mercilessly, human freedom, happiness, and the education of immortal
+souls, for the sake of gains of money! We speak of Napoleon, for we
+must ever despise, with most profound contempt, the use she made of her
+power on that occasion. She had been the chief means of liberating
+Europe from his tyranny, and, though it was for her own sake, we must
+commend and admire her conduct and resolution thus far. But the
+unhandsome, base treatment of her captive, has never been enough
+contemned. Any private gentleman, in chaining up the foe that had put
+himself in his power, would at least have given him lodging, food, and
+clothes to his liking; and a civil turnkey--and a great nation could
+fail in this! O, it was shameful, if only for the vulgarity of feeling
+evinced! All this we say, because we are sometimes impatient of
+England's brag on the subject of slavery. Freedom! Because she has done
+one good act, is she entitled to the angelic privilege of being the
+champion of freedom?
+
+And yet it is true that once she nobly awoke to a sense of what was
+right and wise. It is true that she also acted out that sense--acted
+fully, decidedly. She was willing to make sacrifices, even of the loved
+money. She has not let go the truth she then laid to heart, and
+continues the resolute foe of man's traffic in men. We must bend low to
+her as we borrow this holiday--the anniversary of the emancipation of
+slaves in the West Indies. We do not feel that the extent of her
+practice justifies the extent of her preaching; yet we must feel her to
+be, in this matter, an elder sister, entitled to cry shame to us. And if
+her feelings be those of a sister indeed, how must she mourn to see her
+next of kin pushing back, as far as in her lies, the advance of this
+good cause, binding those whom the old world had awakened from its sins
+enough to loose! But courage, sister! All is not yet lost! There is here
+a faithful band, determined to expiate the crimes that have been
+committed in the name of liberty. On this day they meet and vow
+themselves to the service; and, as they look in one another's glowing
+eyes, they read there assurance that the end is not yet, and that they,
+forced as they are
+
+    "To keep in company with Pain,
+    And Fear, and Falsehood, miserable train,"
+
+       "Turn that necessity to glorious gain,"
+
+       "Transmute them and subdue."
+
+Indeed, we do not see that they "bate a jot of heart or hope," and it is
+because they feel that the power of the Great Spirit, and its peculiar
+workings in the spirit of this age, are with them. There is action and
+reaction all the time; and though the main current is obvious, there are
+many little eddies and counter-currents. Mrs. Norton writes a poem on
+the sufferings of the poor, and in it she, as episode, tunefully laments
+the sufferings of the Emperor of all the Russias for the death of a
+beloved daughter. And it _was_ a deep grief; yet it did not soften his
+heart, or make it feel for man. The first signs of his recovered spirits
+are in new efforts to crush out the heart of Poland, and to make the
+Jews lay aside the hereditary marks of their national existence--to them
+a sacrifice far worse than death. But then,--Count Apraxin is burned
+alive by his infuriate serfs, and the life of a serf is far more
+dog-like, or rather machine-like, than that of _our_ slaves. Still the
+serf can rise in vengeance--can admonish the autocrat that humanity may
+yet turn again and rend him.
+
+So with us. The most shameful deed has been done that ever disgraced a
+nation, because the most contrary to consciousness of right. Other
+nations have done wickedly, but we have surpassed them all in trampling
+under foot the principles that had been assumed as the basis of our
+national existence, and shown a willingness to forfeit our honor in the
+face of the world.
+
+The following stanzas, written by a friend some time since, on the
+fourth of July, exhibit these contrasts so forcibly, that we cannot do
+better than insert them here:--
+
+    Loud peal of bells and beat of drums
+      Salute approaching dawn;
+    And the deep cannon's fearful bursts
+      Announce a nation's morn.
+
+    Imposing ranks of freemen stand
+      And claim their proud birthright;
+    Impostors, rather! thus to brand
+      A name they hold so bright.
+
+    Let the day see the pageant show;
+      Float, banners, to the breeze!
+    Shout Liberty's great name throughout
+      Columbia's lands and seas!
+
+    Give open sunlight to the free;
+      But for Truth's equal sake,
+    When night sinks down upon the land,
+      Proclaim dead Freedom's wake!
+
+    Beat, muffled drums!    Toll, funeral bell
+      Nail every flag half-mast;
+    For though we fought the battle well,
+      We're traitors at the last.
+
+    Let the whole nation join in one
+      Procession to appear;
+    We and our sons lead on the front,
+      Our slaves bring up the rear.
+
+    America is rocked within
+      Thy cradle, Liberty,
+    By Africa's poor, palsied hand--
+      Strange inconsistency!
+
+    We've dug one grave as deep as Death,
+      For Tyranny's black sin;
+    And dug another at its side
+      To thrust our brother in.
+
+    We challenge all the world aloud,--
+      "Lo, Tyranny's deep grave!"
+    And all the world points back and cries,
+      "Thou fool! Behold thy slave!"
+
+    Yes, rally, brave America,
+      Thy noble hearts and free
+    Around the Eagle, as he soars
+      Upward in majesty.
+
+    One half thy emblem is the bird,
+      Out-facing thus the day;
+    But wouldst thou make him wholly thine,--
+      _Give him a helpless prey!_
+
+This should be sung in Charleston at nine o'clock in the evening, when
+the drums are heard proclaiming "dead Freedom's wake," as they summon to
+their homes, or to the custody of the police, every human being with a
+black skin who is found walking without a pass from a white. Or it might
+have been sung to advantage the night after Charleston had shown her
+independence and care of domestic institutions by expulsion of the
+venerable envoy of Massachusetts! Its expression would seem even more
+forcible than now, when sung so near the facts, when the eagle soars so
+close above his prey.
+
+How deep the shadow! yet cleft by light. There is a counter-current that
+sets towards the deep. We are inclined to weigh as of almost equal
+weight with all we have had to trouble us as to the prolongation of
+slavery, the hopes that may be gathered from the course of such a man as
+Cassius M. Clay,--a man open to none of the accusations brought to
+diminish the influence of abolitionists in general, for he has eaten the
+bread wrought from slavery, and has shared the education that excuses
+the blindness of the slaveholder. He speaks as one having authority; no
+one can deny that he knows where he is. In the prime of manhood, of
+talent, and the energy of a fine enthusiasm, he comes forward with deed
+and word to do his devoir in this cause, never to leave the field till
+he can take with him the wronged wretches rescued by his devotion.
+
+Now he has made this last sacrifice of the prejudices of "southern
+chivalry," more persons than ever will be ready to join the herald's
+cry, "God speed the right!" And we cannot but believe his noble example
+will be followed by many young men in the slaveholding ranks, brothers
+in a new, sacred band, vowed to the duty, not merely of defending, but
+far more sacred, of purifying their homes.
+
+The event of which this day is the anniversary, affords a sufficient
+guarantee of the safety and practicability of strong measures for this
+purification. Various accounts are given to the public, of the state of
+the British West Indies, and the foes of emancipation are of course
+constantly on the alert to detect any unfavorable result which may aid
+them in opposing the good work elsewhere. But through all statements
+these facts shine clear as the sun at noonday, that the measure was
+there carried into effect with an ease and success, and has shown in the
+African race a degree of goodness, docility, capacity for industry and
+self-culture entirely beyond or opposed to the predictions which
+darkened so many minds with fears. Those fears can never again be
+entertained or uttered with the same excuse. One great example of the
+_safety of doing right_ exists; true, there is but one of the sort, but
+volumes may be preached from such a text.
+
+We, however, preach not; there are too many preachers already in the
+field, abler, more deeply devoted to the cause. Endless are the sermons
+of these modern crusaders, these ardent "sons of thunder," who have
+pledged themselves never to stop or falter till this one black spot be
+purged away from the land which gave them birth. They cry aloud and
+spare not; they spare not others, but then, neither do they spare
+themselves; and such are ever the harbingers of a new advent of the Holy
+Spirit. Our venerated friend, Dr. Channing, sainted in more memories
+than any man who has left us in this nineteenth century, uttered the
+last of his tones of soft, solemn, convincing, persuasive eloquence, on
+this day and this occasion. The hills of Lenox laughed and were glad as
+they heard him who showed in that last address (an address not only to
+the men of Lenox, but to all men, for he was in the highest sense the
+friend of man) the unsullied purity of infancy, the indignation of youth
+at vice and wrong, informed and tempered by the mild wisdom of age. It
+is a beautiful fact that this should have been the last public occasion
+of his life.
+
+Last year a noble address was delivered by R. W. Emerson, in which he
+broadly showed the _juste milieu_ views upon this subject in the holy
+light of a high ideal day. The truest man grew more true as he listened;
+for the speech, though it had the force of fact and the lustre of
+thought, was chiefly remarkable as sharing the penetrating quality of
+the "still small voice," most often heard when no man speaks. Now it
+spoke _through_ a man; and no personalities, or prejudices, or passions
+could be perceived to veil or disturb its silver sound.
+
+These speeches are on record; little can be said that is not contained
+in them. But we can add evermore our aspirations for thee, O our
+country! that thou mayst not long need to borrow a _holy_ day; not long
+have all thy festivals blackened by falsehood, tyranny, and a crime for
+which neither man below nor God above can much longer pardon thee. For
+ignorance may excuse error; but thine--it is vain to deny it--is
+conscious wrong, and vows thee to the Mammon whose wages are endless
+remorse or final death.
+
+
+
+
+THANKSGIVING.
+
+    "Canst thou give thanks for aught that has been given
+    Except by making earth more worthy heaven?
+    Just stewardship the Master hoped from thee;
+    Harvests from time to bless eternity."
+
+
+Thanksgiving is peculiarly the festival day of New England. Elsewhere,
+other celebrations rival its attractions, but in that region where the
+Puritans first returned thanks that some among them had been sustained
+by a great hope and earnest resolve amid the perils of the ocean, wild
+beasts, and famine, the old spirit which hallowed the day still lingers,
+and forbids that it should be entirely devoted to play and plum-pudding.
+
+And yet, as there is always this tendency; as the twelfth-night cake is
+baked by many a hostess who would be puzzled if you asked her, "Twelfth
+night after or before what?" and the Christmas cake by many who know no
+other Christmas service, so it requires very serious assertion and proof
+from the minister to convince his parishioners that the turkey and
+plum-pudding, which are presently to occupy his place in their
+attention, should not be the chief objects of the day.
+
+And in other regions, where the occasion is observed, it is still more
+as one for a meeting of families and friends to the enjoyment of a good
+dinner, than for any higher purpose.
+
+This, indeed, is one which we want not to depreciate. If this manner of
+keeping the day be likely to persuade the juniors of the party that the
+celebrated Jack Horner is the prime model for brave boys, and that
+grandparents are chiefly to be respected as the givers of grand feasts
+yet a meeting in the spirit of kindness, however dull and blind, is not
+wholly without use in healing differences and promoting good intentions.
+The instinct of family love, intended by Heaven to make those of one
+blood the various and harmonious organs of one mind, is never wholly
+without good influence. Family love, I say, for family pride is never
+without bad influence, and it too often takes the place of its mild and
+healthy sister.
+
+Yet where society is at all simple, it is cheering to see the family
+circle thus assembled, if only because its patriarchal form is in itself
+so excellent. The presence of the children animates the old people,
+while the respect and attention they demand refine the gayety of the
+young. Yes, it is cheering to see, in some large room, the elders
+talking near the bright fire, while the cousins of all ages are amusing
+themselves in knots. Here is almost all the good, and very little of the
+ill, that can be found in society, got together merely for amusement.
+
+Yet how much nobler, more exhilarating, and purer would be the
+atmosphere of that circle if the design of its pious founders were
+remembered by those who partake this festival! if they dared not attend
+the public jubilee till private retrospect of the past year had been
+taken in the spirit of the old rhyme, which we all bear in mind if not
+in heart,--
+
+    "What hast thou done that's worth the doing,
+    And what pursued that's worth pursuing?
+    What sought thou knew'st that thou shouldst shun,
+    What done thou shouldst have left undone?"
+
+A crusade needs also to be made this day into the wild places of each
+heart, taking for its device, "Lord, cleanse thou me from secret faults;
+keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins." Would not that
+circle be happy as if music, from invisible agents, floated through it
+if each member of it considered every other member as a bequest from
+heaven; if he supposed that the appointed nearness in blood or lot was
+a sign to him that he must exercise his gifts of every kind as given
+peculiarly in their behalf; that if richer in temper, in talents, in
+knowledge, or in worldly goods, here was the innermost circle of his
+poor; that he must clothe these naked, whether in body or mind, soothing
+the perverse, casting light into the narrow chamber, or, most welcome
+task of all! extending a hand at the right moment to one uncertain of
+his way? It is this spirit that makes the old man to be revered as a
+Nestor, rather than put aside like a worn-out garment. It is such a
+spirit that sometimes has given to the young child a ministry as of a
+parent in the house.
+
+But, if charity begin at home, it must not end there; and, while
+purifying the innermost circle, let us not forget that it depends upon
+the great circle, and that again on it; that no home can be healthful in
+which are not cherished seeds of good for the world at large. Thy child,
+thy brother, are given to thee only as an example of what is due from
+thee to all men. It is true that, if you, in anger, call your brother
+fool, no deeds of so-called philanthropy shall save you from the
+punishment; for your philanthropy must be from the love of excitement,
+not the love of man, or of goodness. But then you must visit the
+Gentiles also, and take time for knowing what aid the woman of Samaria
+may need.
+
+A noble Catholic writer, in the true sense as well as by name a
+Catholic, describes a tailor as giving a dinner on an occasion which had
+brought honor to his house, which, though a humble, was not a poor
+house. In his glee, the tailor was boasting a little of the favors and
+blessings of his lot, when suddenly a thought stung him. He stopped, and
+cutting away half the fowl that lay before him, sent it in a dish with
+the best knives, bread, and napkin, and a brotherly message that was
+better still, to a widow near, who must, he knew, be sitting in sadness
+and poverty among her children. His little daughter was the messenger.
+If parents followed up the indulgences heaped upon their children at
+Thanksgiving dinners with similar messages, there would not be danger
+that children should think enjoyment of sensual pleasures the only
+occasion that demands Thanksgiving.
+
+And suppose, while the children were absent on their errands of justice,
+as they could not fail to think them, if they compared the hovels they
+must visit with their own comfortable homes, their elders, touched by a
+sense of right, should be led from discussion of the rivalries of trade
+or fashion to inquiry whether they could not impart of all that was
+theirs, not merely one poor dinner once a year, but all their mental and
+material wealth for the benefit of all men. If they do not sell it _all_
+at once, as the rich young man was bid to do as a test of his sincerity,
+they may find some way in which it could be invested so as to show
+enough obedience to the law and the prophets to love our neighbor as
+ourselves.
+
+And he who once gives himself to such thoughts will find it is not
+merely moral gain for which he shall return thanks another year with the
+return of this day. In the present complex state of human affairs, you
+cannot be kind unless you are wise. Thoughts of amaranthine bloom will
+spring up in the fields ploughed to give food to suffering men. It
+would, indeed, seem to be a simple matter at first glance. "Lovest thou
+me?"--"Feed my lambs." But now we have not only to find pasture, but to
+detect the lambs under the disguise of wolves, and restore them by a
+spell, like that the shepherd used, to their natural form and whiteness.
+
+And for this present day appointed for Thanksgiving, we may say that if
+we know of so many wrongs, woes, and errors in the world yet
+unredressed; if in this nation recent decisions have shown a want of
+moral discrimination in important subjects, that make us pause and doubt
+whether we can join in the formal congratulations that we are still
+bodily alive, unassailed by the ruder modes of warfare, and enriched
+with the fatness of the land; yet, on the other side, we know of causes
+not so loudly proclaimed why we should give thanks. Abundantly and
+humbly we must render them for the movement, now sensible in the heart
+of the civilized world, although it has not pervaded the entire
+frame--for that movement of contrition and love which forbids men of
+earnest thought to eat, drink, or be merry while other men are steeped
+in ignorance, corruption, and woe; which calls the king from his throne
+of gold, and the poet from his throne of mind, to lie with the beggar in
+the kennel, or raise him from it; which says to the poet, "You must
+reform rather than create a world," and to him of the golden crown, "You
+cannot long remain a king unless you are also a man."
+
+Wherever this impulse of social or political reform darts up its rill
+through the crusts of selfishness, scoff and dread also arise, and hang
+like a heavy mist above it. But the voice of the rill penetrates far
+enough for those who have ears to hear. And sometimes it is the case
+that "those who came to scoff remain to pray." In two articles of
+reviews, one foreign and one domestic, which have come under our eye
+within the last fortnight, the writers who began by jeering at the
+visionaries, seemed, as they wrote, to be touched by a sense that
+without a high and pure faith none can have the only true vision of the
+intention of God as to the destiny of man.
+
+We recognized as a happy omen that there is cause for thanksgiving, and
+that our people may be better than they seem, the recent meeting to
+organize an association for the benefit of prisoners. We are not, then,
+wholly Pharisees. We shall not ask the blessing of this day in the mood
+of, "Lord, I thank thee that I, and my son, and my brother, are not as
+other men are,--not as those publicans imprisoned there," while the
+still small voice cannot make us hear its evidence that, but for
+instruction, example, and the "preventing God," every sin that can be
+named might riot in our hearts. The prisoner, too, may become a man.
+Neither his open nor our secret fault must utterly dismay us. We will
+treat him as if he had a soul. We will not dare to hunt him into a
+beast of prey, or trample him into a serpent. We will give him some
+crumbs from the table which grace from above and parental love below
+have spread for us, and perhaps he will recover from these ghastly
+ulcers that deform him now.
+
+We were much pleased with the spirit of the meeting for the benefit of
+prisoners, to which we have just alluded. It was simple, business-like,
+in a serious, affectionate temper. The speakers did not make phrases or
+compliments--did not slur over the truth. The audience showed a ready
+vibration to the touch of just and tender feeling. The time was
+evidently ripe for this movement. We doubt not that many now darkened
+souls will give thanks for the ray of light that will have been let in
+by this time next year. It is but a grain of mustard seed, but the
+promised tree will grow swiftly if tended in a pure spirit; and the
+influence of good measures in any one place will be immediate in this
+province, as has been the case with every attempt in behalf of another
+sorrowing class, the insane.
+
+While reading a notice of a successful attempt to have musical
+performances carried through in concert by the insane at Rouen, we were
+forcibly reminded of a similar performance we heard a few weeks ago at
+Sing Sing. There the female prisoners joined in singing a hymn, or
+rather choral, which describes the last thoughts of a spirit about to be
+enfranchised from the body; each stanza of which ends with the words,
+"All is well;" and they sang it--those suffering, degraded children of
+society--with as gentle and resigned an expression as if they were sure
+of going to sleep in the arms of a pure mother. The good spirit that
+dwelt in the music made them its own. And shall not the good spirit of
+religious sympathy make them its own also, and more permanently? We
+shall see. Should the _morally_ insane, by wise and gentle care, be won
+back to health, as the wretched bedlamites have been, will not the
+angels themselves give thanks? And will any man dare take the risk of
+opposing plans that afford even a chance of such a result?
+
+Apart also from good that is public and many-voiced, does not each of us
+know, in private experience, much to be thankful for? Not only the
+innocent and daily pleasures that we have prized according to our
+wisdom; of the sun and starry skies, the fields of green, or snow
+scarcely less beautiful, the loaf eaten with an appetite, the glow of
+labor, the gentle signs of common affection; but have not some, have not
+many of us, cause to be thankful for enfranchisement from error or
+infatuation; a growth in knowledge of outward things, and instruction
+within the soul from a higher source. Have we not acquired a sense of
+more refined enjoyments; clear convictions; sometimes a serenity in
+which, as in the first days of June, all things grow, and the blossom
+gives place to fruit? Have we not been weaned from what was unfit for
+us, or unworthy our care? and have not those ties been drawn more close,
+and are not those objects seen more distinctly, which shall forever be
+worthy the purest desires of our souls? Have we learned to do any thing,
+the humblest, in the service and by the spirit of the power which
+meaneth all things well? If so, we may give thanks, and, perhaps,
+venture to offer our solicitations in behalf of those as yet less
+favored by circumstances. When even a few shall dare do so with the
+whole heart--for only a pure heart, can "avail much" in such
+prayers--then ALL shall soon be well.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS.
+
+
+Our festivals come rather too near together, since we have so few of
+them; thanksgiving, Christmas, new year's day,--and then none again till
+July. We know not but these four, with the addition of "a day set apart
+for fasting and prayer," might answer the purposes of rest and
+edification, as well as a calendar full of saints' days, if they were
+observed in a better spirit. But thanksgiving is devoted to good
+dinners; Christmas and new year's days, to making presents and
+compliments; fast day, to playing at cricket and other games; and the
+fourth of July, to boasting of the past, rather than to plans how to
+deserve its benefits and secure its fruits.
+
+We value means of marking time by appointed days, because man, on one
+side of his nature so ardent and aspiring, is on the other so slippery
+and indolent a being, that he needs incessant admonitions to redeem the
+time. Time flows on steadily, whether he regards it or not; yet unless
+_he keep time_, there is no music in that flow. The sands drop with
+inevitable speed, yet each waits long enough to receive, if it be ready,
+the intellectual touch that should turn it to a sand of gold.
+
+Time, says the Grecian fable, is the parent of Power; Power is the
+father of Genius and Wisdom; Time, then, is grandfather of the noblest
+of the human family, and we must respect the aged sire whom we see on
+the frontispiece of the almanacs, and believe his scythe was meant to
+mow down harvests ripened for an immortal use.
+
+Yet the best provision made by the mind of society, at large, for these
+admonitions, soon loses its efficacy, and requires that individual
+earnestness, individual piety, should continually reanimate the most
+beautiful form. The world has never seen arrangements which might more
+naturally offer good suggestions, than those of the church of Rome. The
+founders of that church stood very near a history, radiant at every page
+with divine light. All their rites and ceremonial days illustrate facts
+of a universal interest. But the life with which piety, first, and
+afterwards the genius of great artists, invested these symbols, waned at
+last, except to a thoughtful few. Reverence was forgotten in the
+multitude of genuflections; the rosary became a string of beads, rather
+than a series of religious meditations, and "the glorious company of
+saints and martyrs" were not so much regarded as the teachers of
+heavenly truth, as intercessors to obtain for their votaries the
+temporal gifts they craved.
+
+Yet we regret that some of these symbols had not been more reverenced by
+Protestants, as the possible occasion of good thoughts. And among others
+we regret that the day set apart to commemorate the birth of Jesus
+should have been stripped, even by those who observe it, of many
+impressive and touching accessories.
+
+If ever there was an occasion on which the arts could become all but
+omnipotent in the service of a holy thought, it is this of the birth of
+the child Jesus. In the palmy days of the Catholic religion, they may be
+said to have wrought miracles in its behalf; and, in our colder time,
+when we rather reflect that light from a different point of view, than
+transport ourselves into it,--who, that has an eye and ear faithful to
+the soul, is not conscious of inexhaustible benefits from some of the
+works by which sublime geniuses have expressed their ideas in the
+adorations of the Magi and the Shepherds, in the Virgin with the infant
+Jesus, or that work which expresses what Christendom at large has not
+even begun to realize,--that work which makes us conscious, as we
+listen, why the soul of man was thought worthy and able to upbear a
+cross of such dreadful weight--the Messiah of Handel.
+
+Christmas would seem to be the day peculiarly sacred to children, and
+something of this feeling here shows itself among us, though rather from
+German influence than of native growth. The evergreen tree is often
+reared for the children on Christmas evening, and its branches cluster
+with little tokens that may, at least, give them a sense that the world
+is rich, and that there are some in it who care to bless them. It is a
+charming sight to see their glittering eyes, and well worth much trouble
+in preparing the Christmas tree.
+
+Yet, on this occasion as on all others, we could wish to see pleasure
+offered them in a form less selfish than it is. When shall we read of
+banquets prepared for the halt, the lame, and the blind, on the day that
+is said to have brought _their_ Friend into the world? When will the
+children be taught to ask all the cold and ragged little ones, whom they
+have seen during the day wistfully gazing at the displays in the
+shop-windows, to share the joys of Christmas eve?
+
+We borrow the Christmas tree from Germany. Would that we might but
+borrow with it that feeling which pervades all their stories about the
+influence of the Christ child; and has, I doubt not,--for the spirit of
+literature is always, though refined, the essence of popular
+life,--pervaded the conduct of children there!
+
+We will mention two of these as happily expressive of different sides of
+the desirable character. One is a legend of the Saint Hermann Joseph.
+The legend runs, that this saint, when a little boy, passed daily by a
+niche where was an image of the Virgin and Child, and delighted there to
+pay his devotions. His heart was so drawn towards the holy child, that,
+one day, having received what seemed to him a gift truly precious,--to
+wit, a beautiful red and yellow apple,--he ventured to offer it, with
+his prayer. To his unspeakable delight, the child put forth its hand
+and took the apple. After that day, never was a gift bestowed upon the
+little Hermann that was not carried to the same place. He needed nothing
+for himself, but dedicated all his childish goods to the altar.
+
+After a while, grief comes. His father, who was a poor man, finds it
+necessary to take him from school and bind him to a trade. He
+communicates his woes to his friends of the niche, and the Virgin
+comforts him, like a mother, and bestows on him money, by means of which
+he rises, (not to ride in a gilt coach like Lord Mayor Whittington,) but
+to be a learned and tender shepherd of men.
+
+Another still more touching story is that of the holy Rupert. Rupert was
+the only child of a princely house, and had something to give besides
+apples. But his generosity and human love were such, that, as a child,
+he could never see poor children suffering without despoiling himself of
+all he had with him in their behalf. His mother was, at first,
+displeased at this; but when he replied, "They are thy children too,"
+her reproofs yielded to tears.
+
+One time, when he had given away his coat to a poor child, he got
+wearied and belated on his homeward way. He lay down a while, and fell
+asleep. Then he dreamed that he was on a river shore, and saw a mild and
+noble old man bathing many children. After he had plunged them into the
+water, he would place them on a beautiful island, where they looked
+white and glorious as little angels. Rupert was seized with strong
+desire to join them, and begged the old man to bathe him, also, in the
+stream. But he was answered, "It is not yet time." Just then a rainbow
+spanned the island, and on its arch was enthroned the child Jesus,
+dressed in a coat that Rupert knew to be his own. And the child said to
+the others, "See this coat; it is one my brother Rupert has just sent to
+me. He has given us many gifts from his love; shall we not ask him to
+join us here?" And they shouted a musical "yes;" and the child started
+from his dream. But he had lain too long on the damp bank of the river,
+without his coat. A cold, and fever soon sent him to join the band of
+his brothers in their home.
+
+These are legends, superstitions, will you say? But, in casting aside
+the shell, have we retained the kernel? The image of the child Jesus is
+not seen in the open street; does his spirit find other means to express
+itself there? Protestantism did not mean, we suppose, to deaden the
+spirit in excluding the form?
+
+The thought of Jesus, as a child, has great weight with children who
+have learned to think of him at all. In thinking of him, they form an
+image of all that the morning of a pure and fervent life should be and
+bring. In former days I knew a boy artist, whose genius, at that time,
+showed high promise. He was not more than fourteen years old; a slight,
+pale boy, with a beaming eye. The hopes and sympathy of friends, gained
+by his talent, had furnished him with a studio and orders for some
+pictures. He had picked up from the streets a boy still younger and
+poorer than himself, to take care of the room and prepare his colors;
+and the two boys were as content in their relation as Michael Angelo
+with his Urbino. If you went there you found exposed to view many pretty
+pictures: a Girl with a Dove, the Guitar Player and such subjects as are
+commonly supposed to interest at his age. But, hid in a corner, and
+never, shown, unless to the beggar page, or some most confidential
+friend, was the real object of his love and pride, the slowly growing
+work of secret hours. The subject of this picture was Christ teaching
+the doctors. And in those doctors he had expressed all he had already
+observed of the pedantry and shallow conceit of those in whom mature
+years have not unfolded the soul; and in the child, all he felt that
+early youth should be and seek, though, alas! his own feet failed him on
+the difficult road. This one record of the youth of Jesus had, at
+least, been much to his mind.
+
+In earlier days, the little saints thought they best imitated the
+Emanuel by giving apples and coats; but we know not why, in our age,
+that esteems itself so enlightened, they should not become also the
+givers of spiritual gifts. We see in them, continually, impulses that
+only require a good direction to effect infinite good. See the little
+girls at work for foreign missions; that is not useless. They devote the
+time to a purpose that is not selfish; the horizon of their thoughts is
+extended. But they are perfectly capable of becoming home missionaries
+as well. The principle of stewardship would make them so.
+
+I have seen a little girl of thirteen,--who had much service, too, to
+perform, for a hard-working mother,--in the midst of a circle of poor
+children whom she gathered daily to a morning school. She took them from
+the door-steps and the ditches; she washed their hands and faces; she
+taught them to read and to sew; and she told them stories that had
+delighted her own infancy. In her face, though in feature and complexion
+plain, was something, already, of a Madonna sweetness, and it had no way
+eclipsed the gayety of childhood.
+
+I have seen a boy scarce older, brought up for some time with the sons
+of laborers, who, so soon as he found himself possessed of superior
+advantages, thought not of surpassing others, but of excelling, and then
+imparting--and he was able to do it. If the other boys had less leisure,
+and could pay for less instruction, they did not suffer for it. He could
+not be happy unless they also could enjoy Milton, and pass from nature
+to natural philosophy. He performed, though in a childish way, and in no
+Grecian garb, the part of Apollo amid the herdsmen of Admetus.
+
+The cause of education would be indefinitely furthered, if, in addition
+to formal means, there were but this principle awakened in the hearts of
+the young, that what they have they must bestow. All are not natural
+instructors, but a large proportion are; and those who do possess such a
+talent are the best possible teachers to those a little younger than
+themselves. Many have more patience with the difficulties they have
+lately left behind, and enjoy their power of assisting more than those
+farther removed in age and knowledge do.
+
+Then the intercourse may be far more congenial and profitable than where
+the teacher receives for hire all sorts of pupils, as they are sent him
+by their guardians. Here he need only choose those who have a
+predisposition for what he is best able to teach. And, as I would have
+the so-called higher instruction as much diffused in this way as the
+lower, there would be a chance of awakening all the power that now lies
+latent.
+
+If a girl, for instance, who has only a passable talent for music, but
+who, from the advantage of social position, has been able to gain
+thorough instruction, felt it her duty to teach whomsoever she knew that
+had such a talent, without money to cultivate it, the good is obvious.
+
+Those who are learning receive an immediate benefit by an effort to
+rearrange and interpret what they learn; so the use of this justice
+would be twofold.
+
+Some efforts are made here and there; nay, sometimes there are those who
+can say they have returned usury for every gift of fate. And, would
+others make the same experiments, they might find Utopia not so far off
+as the children of this world, wise in securing their own selfish ease,
+would persuade us it must always be.
+
+We have hinted what sort of Christmas box we would wish for the
+children. It would be one full, as that of the child Christ must be, of
+the pieces of silver that were lost and are found. But Christmas, with
+its peculiar associations, has deep interest for men, and women too, no
+less. It has so in their mutual relations. At the time thus celebrated,
+a pure woman saw in her child what the Son of man should be as a child
+of God. She anticipated for him a life of glory to God, peace and good
+will to man. In every young mother's heart, who has any purity of heart,
+the same feelings arise. But most of these mothers let them go without
+obeying their instructions. If they did not, we should see other
+children--other men than now throng our streets. The boy could not
+invariably disappoint the mother, the man the wife, who steadily
+demanded of him such a career.
+
+And man looks upon woman, in this relation, always as he should. Does he
+see in her a holy mother worthy to guard the infancy of an immortal
+soul? Then she assumes in his eyes those traits which the Romish church
+loved to revere in Mary. Frivolity, base appetite, contempt are
+exorcised; and man and woman appear again in unprofaned connection, as
+brother and sister, the children and the servants of the one Divine
+Love, and pilgrims to a common aim.
+
+Were all this right in the private sphere, the public would soon right
+itself also, and the nations of Christendom might join in a celebration,
+such as "kings and prophets waited for," and so many martyrs died to
+achieve, of Christ-Mass.
+
+
+
+
+MARIANA[33]
+
+
+Among those whom I met in a recent visit at Chicago was Mrs. Z., the
+aunt of an old schoolmate, to whom I impatiently hastened, to demand
+news of Mariana. The answer startled me. Mariana, so full of life, was
+dead. That form, the most rich in energy and coloring of any I had ever
+seen, had faded from the earth. The circle of youthful associations had
+given way in the part that seemed the strongest. What I now learned of
+the story of this life, and what was by myself remembered, may be bound
+together in this slight sketch.
+
+At the boarding school to which I was too early sent, a fond, a proud,
+and timid child, I saw among the ranks of the gay and graceful, bright
+or earnest girls, only one who interested my fancy or touched my young
+heart; and this was Mariana. She was, on the father's side, of Spanish
+Creole blood, but had been sent to the Atlantic coast, to receive a
+school education under the care of her aunt, Mrs. Z.
+
+This lady had kept her mostly at home with herself, and Mariana had gone
+from her house to a day school; but the aunt being absent for a time in
+Europe, she had now been unfortunately committed for some time to the
+mercies of a boarding school.
+
+A strange bird she proved there--a lonely one, that could not make for
+itself a summer. At first, her schoolmates were captivated with her
+ways, her love of wild dances and sudden song, her freaks of passion
+and of wit. She was always new, always surprising, and, for a time,
+charming.
+
+But, after a while, they tired of her. She could never be depended on to
+join in their plans, yet she expected them to follow out hers with their
+whole strength. She was very loving, even infatuated in her own
+affections, and exacted from those who had professed any love for her,
+the devotion she was willing to bestow.
+
+Yet there was a vein of haughty caprice in her character; a love of
+solitude, which made her at times wish to retire entirely; and at these
+times she would expect to be thoroughly understood, and let alone, yet
+to be welcomed back when she returned. She did not thwart others in
+their humors, but she never doubted of great indulgence from them.
+
+Some singular ways she had, which, when new, charmed, but, after
+acquaintance, displeased her companions. She had by nature the same
+habit and power of excitement that is described in the spinning
+dervishes of the East. Like them, she would spin until all around her
+were giddy, while her own brain, instead of being disturbed, was excited
+to great action. Pausing, she would declaim verse of others or her own;
+perform many parts, with strange catch-words and burdens that seemed to
+act with mystical power on her own fancy, sometimes stimulating her to
+convulse the hearer with laughter, sometimes to melt him to tears. When
+her power began to languish, she would spin again till fired to
+recommence her singular drama, into which she wove figures from the
+scenes of her earlier childhood, her companions, and the dignitaries she
+sometimes saw, with fantasies unknown to life, unknown to heaven or
+earth.
+
+This excitement, as may be supposed, was not good for her. It oftenest
+came on in the evening, and spoiled her sleep. She would wake in the
+night, and cheat her restlessness by inventions that teased, while they
+sometimes diverted her companions.
+
+She was also a sleep-walker; and this one trait of her case did somewhat
+alarm her guardians, who, otherwise, showed the same profound stupidity,
+as to this peculiar being, usual in the overseers of the young. They
+consulted a physician, who said she would outgrow it, and prescribed a
+milk diet.
+
+Meantime, the fever of this ardent and too early stimulated nature was
+constantly increased by the restraints and narrow routine of the
+boarding school. She was always devising means to break in upon it. She
+had a taste, which would have seemed ludicrous to her mates, if they had
+not felt some awe of her, from a touch of genius and power, that never
+left her, for costume and fancy dresses; always some sash twisted about
+her, some drapery, something odd in the arrangement of her hair and
+dress; so that the methodical preceptress dared not let her go out
+without a careful scrutiny and remodelling, whose soberizing effects
+generally disappeared the moment she was in the free air.
+
+At last, a vent for her was found in private theatricals. Play followed
+play, and in these and the rehearsals she found entertainment congenial
+with her. The principal parts, as a matter of course, fell to her lot;
+most of the good suggestions and arrangements came from her, and for a
+time she ruled masterly and shone triumphant.
+
+During these performances the girls had heightened their natural bloom
+with artificial red; this was delightful to them--it was something so
+out of the way. But Mariana, after the plays were over, kept her carmine
+saucer on the dressing table, and put on her blushes regularly as the
+morning.
+
+When stared and jeered at, she at first said she did it because she
+thought it made her look prettier; but, after a while, she became quite
+petulant about it--would make no reply to any joke, but merely kept on
+doing it.
+
+This irritated the girls, as all eccentricity does the world in general,
+more than vice or malignity. They talked it over among themselves, till
+they got wrought up to a desire of punishing, once for all, this
+sometimes amusing, but so often provoking nonconformist.
+
+Having obtained the leave of the mistress, they laid, with great glee, a
+plan one evening, which was to be carried into execution next day at
+dinner.
+
+Among Mariana's irregularities was a great aversion to the meal-time
+ceremonial. So long, so tiresome she found it, to be seated at a certain
+moment, to wait while each one was served at so large a table, and one
+where there was scarcely any conversation; from day to day it became
+more heavy to her to sit there, or go there at all. Often as possible
+she excused herself on the ever-convenient plea of headache, and was
+hardly ever ready when the dinner bell rang.
+
+To-day it found her on the balcony, lost in gazing on the beautiful
+prospect. I have heard her say, afterwards, she had rarely in her life
+been so happy--and she was one with whom happiness was a still rapture.
+It was one of the most blessed summer days; the shadows of great white
+clouds empurpled the distant hills for a few moments only to leave them
+more golden; the tall grass of the wide fields waved in the softest
+breeze. Pure blue were the heavens, and the same hue of pure contentment
+was in the heart of Mariana.
+
+Suddenly on her bright mood jarred the dinner bell. At first rose her
+usual thought, I will not, cannot go; and then the _must_, which daily
+life can always enforce, even upon the butterflies and birds, came, and
+she walked reluctantly to her room. She merely changed her dress, and
+never thought of adding the artificial rose to her cheek.
+
+When she took her seat in the dining hall, and was asked if she would be
+helped, raising her eyes, she saw the person who asked her was deeply
+rouged, with a bright, glaring spot, perfectly round, in either cheek.
+She looked at the next--the same apparition! She then slowly passed her
+eyes down the whole line, and saw the same, with a suppressed smile
+distorting every countenance. Catching the design at once she
+deliberately looked along her own side of the table, at every schoolmate
+in turn; every one had joined in the trick. The teachers strove to be
+grave, but she saw they enjoyed the joke. The servants could not
+suppress a titter.
+
+When Warren Hastings stood at the bar of Westminster Hall; when the
+Methodist preacher walked through a line of men, each of whom greeted
+him with a brickbat or a rotten egg,--they had some preparation for the
+crisis, and it might not be very difficult to meet it with an impassive
+brow. Our little girl was quite unprepared to find herself in the midst
+of a world which despised her, and triumphed in her disgrace.
+
+She had ruled like a queen in the midst of her companions; she had shed
+her animation through their lives, and loaded them with prodigal favors,
+nor once suspected that a powerful favorite might not be loved. Now, she
+felt that she had been but a dangerous plaything in the hands of those
+whose hearts she never had doubted.
+
+Yet the occasion found her equal to it; for Mariana had the kind of
+spirit, which, in a better cause, had made the Roman matron truly say of
+her death wound, "It is not painful, Poetus." She did not blench--she
+did not change countenance. She swallowed her dinner with apparent
+composure. She made remarks to those near her as if she had no eyes.
+
+The wrath of the foe of course rose higher, and the moment they were
+freed from the restraints of the dining room, they all ran off, gayly
+calling, and sarcastically laughing, with backward glances, at Mariana,
+left alone.
+
+She went alone to her room, locked the door, and threw herself on the
+floor in strong convulsions. These had sometimes threatened her life, as
+a child, but of later years she had outgrown them. School hours came,
+and she was not there. A little girl, sent to her door, could get no
+answer. The teachers became alarmed, and broke it open. Bitter was their
+penitence and that of her companions at the state in which they found
+her. For some hours terrible anxiety was felt; but at last, Nature,
+exhausted, relieved herself by a deep slumber.
+
+From this Mariana rose an altered being. She made no reply to the
+expressions of sorrow from her companions, none to the grave and kind,
+but undiscerning comments of her teacher. She did not name the source of
+her anguish, and its poisoned dart sunk deeply in. It was this thought
+which stung her so.--"What, not one, not a single one, in the hour of
+trial, to take my part! not one who refused to take part against me!"
+Past words of love, and caresses little heeded at the time, rose to her
+memory, and gave fuel to her distempered thoughts. Beyond the sense of
+universal perfidy, of burning resentment, she could not get. And
+Mariana, born for love, now hated all the world.
+
+The change, however, which these feelings made in her conduct and
+appearance bore no such construction to the careless observer. Her gay
+freaks were quite gone, her wildness, her invention. Her dress was
+uniform, her manner much subdued. Her chief interest seemed now to lie
+in her studies and in music. Her companions she never sought; but they,
+partly from uneasy, remorseful feelings, partly that they really liked
+her much better now that she did not oppress and puzzle them, sought her
+continually. And here the black shadow comes upon her life--the only
+stain upon the history of Mariana.
+
+They talked to her as girls, having few topics, naturally do of one
+another. And the demon rose within her, and spontaneously, without
+design, generally without words of positive falsehood, she became a
+genius of discord among them. She fanned those flames of envy and
+jealousy which a wise, true word from a third person will often quench
+forever; by a glance, or a seemingly light reply, she planted the seeds
+of dissension, till there was scarce a peaceful affection or sincere
+intimacy in the circle where she lived, and could not but rule, for she
+was one whose nature was to that of the others as fire to clay.
+
+It was at this time that I came to the school, and first saw Mariana. Me
+she charmed at once, for I was a sentimental child, who, in my early ill
+health, had been indulged in reading novels till I had no eyes for the
+common greens and browns of life. The heroine of one of these, "the
+Bandit's Bride," I immediately saw in Mariana. Surely the Bandit's Bride
+had just such hair, and such strange, lively ways, and such a sudden
+flash of the eye. The Bandit's Bride, too, was born to be
+"misunderstood" by all but her lover. But Mariana, I was determined,
+should be more fortunate; for, until her lover appeared, I myself would
+be the wise and delicate being who could understand her.
+
+It was not, however, easy to approach her for this purpose. Did I offer
+to run and fetch her handkerchief, she was obliged to go to her room,
+and would rather do it herself. She did not like to have people turn
+over for her the leaves of the music book as she played. Did I approach
+my stool to her feet, she moved away, as if to give me room. The bunch
+of wild flowers which I timidly laid beside her plate was left there.
+
+After some weeks my desire to attract her notice really preyed upon me,
+and one day, meeting her alone in the entry, I fell upon my knees, and
+kissing her hand, cried, "O Mariana, do let me love you, and try to love
+me a little." But my idol snatched away her hand, and, laughing more
+wildly than the Bandit's Bride was ever described to have done, ran into
+her room. After that day her manner to me was not only cold, but
+repulsive; I felt myself scorned, and became very unhappy.
+
+Perhaps four months had passed thus, when, one afternoon, it became
+obvious that something more than common was brewing. Dismay and mystery
+were written in many faces of the older girls; much whispering was going
+on in corners.
+
+In the evening, after prayers, the principal bade us stay; and, in a
+grave, sad voice, summoned forth Mariana to answer charges to be made
+against her.
+
+Mariana came forward, and leaned against the chimney-piece. Eight of the
+older girls came forward, and preferred against her charges--alas! too
+well founded--of calumny and falsehood.
+
+My heart sank within me, as one after the other brought up their proofs,
+and I saw they were too strong to be resisted. I could not bear the
+thought of this second disgrace of my shining favorite. The first had
+been whispered to me, though the girls did not like to talk about it. I
+must confess, such is the charm of strength to softer natures, that
+neither of these crises could deprive Mariana of hers in my eyes.
+
+At first, she defended herself with self-possession and eloquence. But
+when she found she could no more resist the truth, she suddenly threw
+herself down, dashing her head, with all her force, against the iron
+hearth, on which a fire was burning, and was taken up senseless.
+
+The affright of those present was great. Now that they had perhaps
+killed her, they reflected it would have been as well if they had taken
+warning from the former occasion, and approached very carefully a nature
+so capable of any extreme. After a while she revived, with a faint
+groan, amid the sobs of her companions. I was on my knees by the bed,
+and held her cold hand. One of those most aggrieved took it from me to
+beg her pardon, and say it was impossible not to love her. She made no
+reply.
+
+Neither that night, nor for several days, could a word be obtained from
+her, nor would she touch food; but, when it was presented to her, or any
+one drew near for any cause, she merely turned away her head, and gave
+no sign. The teacher saw that some terrible nervous affection had fallen
+upon her--that she grew more and more feverish. She knew not what to
+do.
+
+Meanwhile, a new revolution had taken place in the mind of the
+passionate but nobly-tempered child. All these months nothing but the
+sense of injury had rankled in her heart. She had gone on in one mood,
+doing what the demon prompted, without scruple and without fear.
+
+But at the moment of detection, the tide ebbed, and the bottom of her
+soul lay revealed to her eye. How black, how stained and sad! Strange,
+strange that she had not seen before the baseness and cruelty of
+falsehood, the loveliness of truth. Now, amid the wreck, uprose the
+moral nature which never before had attained the ascendant. "But," she
+thought, "too late sin is revealed to me in all its deformity, and
+sin-defiled, I will not, cannot live. The mainspring of life is broken."
+
+And thus passed slowly by her hours in that black despair of which only
+youth is capable. In older years men suffer more dull pain, as each
+sorrow that comes drops its leaden weight into the past, and, similar
+features of character bringing similar results, draws up the heavy
+burden buried in those depths. But only youth has energy, with fixed,
+unwinking gaze, to contemplate grief, to hold it in the arms and to the
+heart, like a child which makes it wretched, yet is indubitably its own.
+
+The lady who took charge of this sad child had never well understood her
+before, but had always looked on her with great tenderness. And now love
+seemed--when all around were in greatest distress, fearing to call in
+medical aid, fearing to do without it--to teach her where the only balm
+was to be found that could have healed this wounded spirit.
+
+One night she came in, bringing a calming draught. Mariana was sitting,
+as usual, her hair loose, her dress the same robe they had put on her at
+first, her eyes fixed vacantly upon the whited wall. To the proffers and
+entreaties of her nurse she made no reply.
+
+The lady burst into tears, but Mariana did not seem even to observe it.
+
+The lady then said, "O my child, do not despair; do not think that one
+great fault can mar a whole life. Let me trust you, let me tell you the
+griefs of my sad life. I will tell to you, Mariana, what I never
+expected to impart to any one."
+
+And so she told her tale: it was one of pain, of shame, borne, not for
+herself, but for one near and dear as herself. Mariana knew the
+lady--knew the pride and reserve of her nature. She had often admired to
+see how the cheek, lovely, but no longer young, mantled with the deepest
+blush of youth, and the blue eyes were cast down at any little emotion:
+she had understood the proud sensibility of the character. She fixed her
+eyes on those now raised to hers, bright with fast-falling tears. She
+heard the story to the end, and then, without saying a word, stretched
+out her hand for the cup.
+
+She returned to life, but it was as one who has passed through the
+valley of death. The heart of stone was quite broken in her, the fiery
+life fallen from flame to coal. When her strength was a little restored,
+she had all her companions summoned, and said to them, "I deserved to
+die, but a generous trust has called me back to life. I will be worthy
+of it, nor ever betray the truth, or resent injury more. Can you forgive
+the past?"
+
+And they not only forgave, but, with love and earnest tears, clasped in
+their arms the returning sister. They vied with one another in offices
+of humble love to the humbled one; and let it be recorded as an instance
+of the pure honor of which young hearts are capable, that these facts,
+known to forty persons, never, so far as I know, transpired beyond those
+walls.
+
+It was not long after this that Mariana was summoned home. She went
+thither a wonderfully instructed being, though in ways that those who
+had sent her forth to learn little dreamed of.
+
+Never was forgotten the vow of the returning prodigal. Mariana could not
+resent, could not play false. The terrible crisis which she so early
+passed through probably prevented the world from hearing much of her. A
+wild fire was tamed in that hour of penitence at the boarding school
+such as has oftentimes wrapped court and camp in its destructive glow.
+
+But great were the perils she had yet to undergo, for she was one of
+those barks which easily get beyond soundings, and ride not lightly on
+the plunging billow.
+
+Her return to her native climate seconded the effects of inward
+revolutions. The cool airs of the north had exasperated nerves too
+susceptible for their tension. Those of the south restored her to a more
+soft and indolent state. Energy gave place to feeling--turbulence to
+intensity of character.
+
+At this time, love was the natural guest; and he came to her under a
+form that might have deluded one less ready for delusion.
+
+Sylvain was a person well proportioned to her lot in years, family, and
+fortune. His personal beauty was not great, but of a noble description.
+Repose marked his slow gesture, and the steady gaze of his large brown
+eye; but it was a repose that would give way to a blaze of energy, when
+the occasion called. In his stature, expression, and heavy coloring, he
+might not unfitly be represented by the great magnolias that inhabit the
+forests of that climate. His voice, like every thing about him, was rich
+and soft, rather than sweet or delicate.
+
+Mariana no sooner knew him than she loved; and her love, lovely as she
+was, soon excited his. But O, it is a curse to woman to love first, or
+most! In so doing she reverses the natural relations; and her heart can
+never, never be satisfied with what ensues.
+
+Mariana loved first, and loved most, for she had most force and variety
+to love with. Sylvain seemed, at first, to take her to himself, as the
+deep southern night might some fair star; but it proved not so.
+
+Mariana was a very intellectual being, and she needed companionship.
+This she could only have with Sylvain, in the paths of passion and
+action. Thoughts he had none, and little delicacy of sentiment. The
+gifts she loved to prepare of such for him he took with a sweet but
+indolent smile; he held them lightly, and soon they fell from his grasp.
+He loved to have her near him, to feel the glow and fragrance of her
+nature, but cared not to explore the little secret paths whence that
+fragrance was collected.
+
+Mariana knew not this for a long time. Loving so much, she imagined all
+the rest; and, where she felt a blank, always hoped that further
+communion would fill it up. When she found this could never be,--that
+there was absolutely a whole province of her being to which nothing in
+his answered,--she was too deeply in love to leave him. Often, after
+passing hours together beneath the southern moon, when, amid the sweet
+intoxication of mutual love, she still felt the desolation of solitude,
+and a repression of her finer powers, she had asked herself, Can I give
+him up? But the heart always passionately answered, No! I may be
+wretched with him, but I cannot live without him.
+
+And the last miserable feeling of these conflicts was, that if the
+lover--soon to be the bosom friend--could have dreamed of these
+conflicts, he would have laughed, or else been angry, even enough to
+give her up.
+
+Ah, weakness of the strong! of those strong only where strength is
+weakness! Like others, she had the decisions of life to make before she
+had light by which to make them. Let none condemn her. Those who have
+not erred as fatally should thank the guardian angel who gave them more
+time to prepare for judgment, but blame no children who thought at arm's
+length to find the moon. Mariana, with a heart capable of highest Eros,
+gave it to one who knew love only as a flower or plaything, and bound
+her heartstrings to one who parted his as lightly as the ripe fruit
+leaves the bough. The sequel could not fail. Many console themselves for
+the one great mistake with their children, with the world. This was not
+possible to Mariana. A few months of domestic life she still was almost
+happy. But Sylvain then grew tired. He wanted business and the world: of
+these she had no knowledge, for them no faculties. He wanted in her the
+head of his house; she to make her heart his home. No compromise was
+possible between natures of such unequal poise, and which had met only
+on one or two points. Through all its stages she
+
+                "felt
+      The agonizing sense
+    Of seeing love from passion melt
+      Into indifference;
+    The fearful shame, that, day by day,
+      Burns onward, still to burn,
+    To have thrown her precious heart away,
+      And met this black return,"
+
+till death at last closed the scene. Not that she died of one downright
+blow on the heart. That is not the way such cases proceed. I cannot
+detail all the symptoms, for I was not there to watch them, and aunt Z.,
+who described them, was neither so faithful an observer or narrator as I
+have shown myself in the school-day passages; but, generally, they were
+as follows.
+
+Sylvain wanted to go into the world, or let it into his house. Mariana
+consented; but, with an unsatisfied heart, and no lightness of
+character, she played her part ill there. The sort of talent and
+facility she had displayed in early days were not the least like what is
+called out in the social world by the desire to please and to shine. Her
+excitement had been muse-like--that of the improvisatrice, whose
+kindling fancy seeks to create an atmosphere round it, and makes the
+chain through which to set free its electric sparks. That had been a
+time of wild and exuberant life. After her character became more tender
+and concentrated, strong affection or a pure enthusiasm might still have
+called out beautiful talents in her. But in the first she was utterly
+disappointed. The second was not roused within her mind. She did not
+expand into various life, and remained unequal; sometimes too passive,
+sometimes too ardent, and not sufficiently occupied with what occupied
+those around her to come on the same level with them and embellish their
+hours.
+
+Thus she lost ground daily with her husband, who, comparing her with the
+careless shining dames of society, wondered why he had found her so
+charming in solitude.
+
+At intervals, when they were left alone, Mariana wanted to open her
+heart, to tell the thoughts of her mind. She was so conscious of secret
+riches within herself, that sometimes it seemed, could she but reveal a
+glimpse of them to the eye of Sylvain, he would be attracted near her
+again, and take a path where they could walk hand in hand. Sylvain, in
+these intervals, wanted an indolent repose. His home was his castle. He
+wanted no scenes too exciting there. Light jousts and plays were well
+enough, but no grave encounters. He liked to lounge, to sing, to read,
+to sleep. In fine, Sylvain became the kind but preoccupied husband,
+Mariana the solitary and wretched wife. He was off, continually, with
+his male companions, on excursions or affairs of pleasure. At home
+Mariana found that neither her books nor music would console her.
+
+She was of too strong a nature to yield without a struggle to so dull a
+fiend as despair. She looked into other hearts, seeking whether she
+could there find such home as an orphan asylum may afford. This she did
+rather because the chance came to her, and it seemed unfit not to seize
+the proffered plank, than in hope; for she was not one to double her
+stakes, but rather with Cassandra power to discern early the sure course
+of the game. And Cassandra whispered that she was one of those
+
+    "Whom men love not, but yet regret;"
+
+and so it proved. Just as in her childish days, though in a different
+form, it happened betwixt her and these companions. She could not be
+content to receive them quietly, but was stimulated to throw herself too
+much into the tie, into the hour, till she filled it too full for them.
+Like Fortunio, who sought to do homage to his friends by building a fire
+of cinnamon, not knowing that its perfume would be too strong for their
+endurance, so did Mariana. What she wanted to tell they did not wish to
+hear; a little had pleased, so much overpowered, and they preferred the
+free air of the street, even, to the cinnamon perfume of her palace.
+
+However, this did not signify; had they staid, it would not have availed
+her. It was a nobler road, a higher aim, she needed now; this did not
+become clear to her.
+
+She lost her appetite, she fell sick, had fever. Sylvain was alarmed,
+nursed her tenderly; she grew better. Then his care ceased; he saw not
+the mind's disease, but left her to rise into health, and recover the
+tone of her spirits, as she might. More solitary than ever, she tried to
+raise herself; but she knew not yet enough. The weight laid upon her
+young life was a little too heavy for it. One long day she passed alone,
+and the thoughts and presages came too thick for her strength. She knew
+not what to do with them, relapsed into fever, and died.
+
+Notwithstanding this weakness, I must ever think of her as a fine sample
+of womanhood, born to shed light and life on some palace home. Had she
+known more of God and the universe, she would not have given way where
+so many have conquered. But peace be with her; she now, perhaps, has
+entered into a larger freedom, which is knowledge. With her died a great
+interest in life to me. Since her I have never seen a Bandit's Bride.
+She, indeed, turned out to be only a merchant's. Sylvain is married
+again to a fair and laughing girl, who will not die, probably, till
+their marriage grows a "golden marriage."
+
+Aunt Z. had with her some papers of Mariana's, which faintly shadow
+forth the thoughts that engaged her in the last days. One of these seems
+to have been written when some faint gleam had been thrown across the
+path only to make its darkness more visible. It seems to have been
+suggested by remembrance of the beautiful ballad, _Helen of Kirconnel
+Lee_, which once she loved to recite, and in tones that would not have
+sent a chill to the heart from which it came.
+
+                                        "Death
+    Opens her sweet white arms, and whispers, Peace;
+    Come, say thy sorrows in this bosom! This
+    Will never close against thee, and my heart,
+    Though cold, cannot be colder much than man's."
+
+DISAPPOINTMENT.
+
+    "I wish I were where Helen lies."
+        A lover in the times of old,
+    Thus vents his grief in lonely sighs,
+        And hot tears from a bosom cold.
+
+    But, mourner for thy martyred love,
+        Couldst thou but know what hearts must feel.
+    Where no sweet recollections move,
+        Whose tears a desert fount reveal!
+
+    When "in thy arms bird Helen fell,"
+        She died, sad man, she died for thee;
+    Nor could the films of death dispel
+        Her loving eye's sweet radiancy.
+
+    Thou wert beloved, and she had loved,
+        Till death alone the whole could tell;
+    Death every shade of doubt removed,
+        And steeped the star in its cold well.
+
+    On some fond breast the parting soul
+        Relies--earth has no more to give;
+    Who wholly loves has known the whole;
+        The wholly loved doth truly live.
+
+    But some, sad outcasts from this prize,
+        Do wither to a lonely grave;
+    All hearts their hidden love despise,
+        And leave them to the whelming wave.
+
+    They heart to heart have never pressed,
+        Nor hands in holy pledge have given,
+    By father's love were ne'er caressed,
+        Nor in a mother's eye saw heaven.
+
+    A flowerless and fruitless tree,
+        A dried-up stream, a mateless bird,
+    They live, yet never living be,
+        They die, their music all unheard.
+
+    I wish I were where Helen lies,
+        For there I could not be alone;
+    But now, when this dull body dies,
+        The spirit still will make its moan.
+
+    Love passed me by, nor touched my brow;
+        Life would not yield one perfect boon;
+    And all too late it calls me now--
+        O, all too late, and all too soon.
+
+    If thou couldst the dark riddle read
+        Which leaves this dart within my breast,
+    Then might I think thou lov'st indeed,
+        Then were the whole to thee confest.
+
+    Father, they will not take me home;
+        To the poor child no heart is free;
+    In sleet and snow all night I roam;
+        Father, was this decreed by thee?
+
+    I will not try another door,
+        To seek what I have never found;
+    Now, till the very last is o'er,
+        Upon the earth I'll wander round.
+
+    I will not hear the treacherous call
+        That bids me stay and rest a while,
+    For I have found that, one and all,
+        They seek me for a prey and spoil.
+
+    They are not bad; I know it well;
+        I know they know not what they do;
+    They are the tools of the dread spell
+        Which the lost lover must pursue.
+
+    In temples sometimes she may rest,
+        In lonely groves, away from men,
+    There bend the head, by heats distressed,
+        Nor be by blows awoke again.
+
+    Nature is kind, and God is kind;
+        And, if she had not had a heart,
+    Only that great discerning mind,
+        She might have acted well her part.
+
+    But O this thirst, that nought can fill,
+        Save those unfounden waters free!
+    The angel of my life must still
+        And soothe me in eternity!
+
+It marks the defect in the position of woman that one like Mariana
+should have found reason to write thus. To a man of equal power, equal
+sincerity, no more!--many resources would have presented themselves. He
+would not have needed to seek, he would have been called by life, and
+not permitted to be quite wrecked through the affections only. But such
+women as Mariana are often lost, unless they meet some man of
+sufficiently great soul to prize them.
+
+Van Artevelde's Elena, though in her individual nature unlike my
+Mariana, is like her in a mind whose large impulses are disproportioned
+to the persons and occasions she meets, and which carry her beyond those
+reserves which mark the appointed lot of woman. But, when she met Van
+Artevelde, he was too great not to revere her rare nature, without
+regard to the stains and errors of its past history; great enough to
+receive her entirely, and make a new life for her; man enough to be a
+lover! But as such men come not so often as once an age, their presence
+should not be absolutely needed to sustain life.
+
+
+
+
+SUNDAY MEDITATIONS ON VARIOUS TEXTS.
+
+
+MEDITATION FIRST.
+
+     "And Jesus, answering, said unto them, Have faith in God."--_Mark_
+     xi. 22.
+
+O, direction most difficult to follow! O, counsel most mighty of import!
+Beauteous harmony to the purified soul! Mysterious, confounding as an
+incantation to those yet groping and staggering amid the night, the fog,
+the chaos of their own inventions!
+
+Yes, this is indeed the beginning and the end of all knowledge and
+virtue; the way and the goal; the enigma and its solution. The soul
+cannot prove to herself the existence of a God; she cannot prove her own
+immortality; she cannot prove the beauty of virtue, or the deformity of
+vice; her own consciousness, the first ground of this belief, cannot be
+compassed by the reason, that inferior faculty which the Deity gave for
+practical, temporal purposes only. This consciousness is divine; it is
+part of the Deity; through this alone we sympathize with the
+imperishable, the infinite, the nature of things. Were reason
+commensurate with this part of our intellectual life, what should we do
+with the things of time? The leaves and buds of earth would wither
+beneath the sun of our intelligence; its crags and precipices would be
+levelled before the mighty torrent of our will; all its dross would
+crumble to ashes under the fire of our philosophy.
+
+God willed it otherwise; WHY, who can guess? Why this planet, with its
+tormenting limitations of space and time, was ever created,--why the
+soul was cased in this clogging, stifling integument, (which, while it
+conveys to the soul, in a roundabout way, knowledge which she might
+obviously acquire much better without its aid, tempts constantly to vice
+and indolence, suggesting sordid wants, and hampering or hindering
+thought,)--I pretend not to say. Let others toil to stifle sad distrust
+a thousand ways. Let them satisfy themselves by reasonings on the nature
+of free agency; let them imagine it was impossible men should be
+purified to angels, except by resisting the temptations of guilt and
+crime; let them be _reasonably_ content to feel that
+
+      "Faith conquers in no easy war;
+        By toil alone the prize is won;
+      The grape dissolves not in the cup--
+        Wine from the crushing press must run;
+    And would a spirit heavenward go,
+    A heart must break in death below."
+
+Why an _omnipotent_ Deity should permit evil, either as necessary to
+produce good, or incident to laws framed for its production, must remain
+a mystery to me. True, _we_ cannot conceive how the world could have
+been ordered differently, and because _we_,--beings half of clay; beings
+bred amid, and nurtured upon imperfection and decay; beings who must not
+only sleep and eat, but pass the greater part of their temporal day in
+procuring the means to do so,--because WE, creatures so limited and
+blind, so weak of thought and dull of hearing, cannot conceive how evil
+could have been dispensed with, those among us who are styled _wise_ and
+_learned_ have thought fit to assume that the Infinite, the Omnipotent,
+could not have found a way! "Could not," "evil must be incident"--terms
+invented to express the thoughts or deeds of the children of dust. Shall
+they be applied to the Omnipotent? Is a confidence in the goodness of
+God more trying to faith, than the belief that a God exists, to whom
+these words, transcending our powers of conception, apply? O, no, no!
+"_Have faith in God!_" Strive to expand thy soul to the feeling of
+wisdom, of beauty, of goodness; live, and act as if these were the
+necessary elements of things; "live for thy faith, and thou shalt behold
+it living." In another world God will repay thy trust, and "reveal to
+thee the first causes of things which Leibnitz could not," as the queen
+of Prussia said, when she was dying. Socrates has declared that the
+belief in the soul's immortality is so delightful, so elevating, so
+purifying, that even were it not the truth, "we should daily strive to
+enchant ourselves with it." And thus with faith in wisdom and
+goodness,--that is to say, in God,--the earthquake-defying,
+rock-foundation of our hopes is laid; the sun-greeting dome which crowns
+the most superb palace of our knowledge is builded. A noble and
+accomplished man, of a later day, has said, "To credit ordinary and
+visible objects is not faith, but persuasion. I bless myself, and am
+thankful, that I lived not in the days of miracles, that I never saw
+Christ, nor his disciples; then had my faith been thrust upon me, nor
+could I enjoy that greater blessing pronounced upon those who believe
+yet saw not."
+
+I cannot speak thus proudly and heartily. I find the world of sense
+strong enough against the intellectual and celestial world. It is easy
+to believe in our passionless moments, or in those when earth would seem
+too dark without the guiding star of faith; but to _live_ in faith, not
+sometimes to feel, but always to have it, is difficult. Were faith ever
+with us, how steady would be our energy, how equal our ambition, how
+calmly bright our hopes! The darts of envy would be blunted, the cup of
+disappointment lose its bitterness, the impassioned eagerness of the
+heart be stilled, tears would fall like holy dew, and blossoms fragrant
+with celestial May ensue.
+
+But the prayer of most of us must be, "Lord, we believe--help thou our
+unbelief!" These are to me the most significant words of Holy Writ. I
+_will_ to believe; O, guide, support, strengthen, and soothe me to do
+so! Lord, grant me to believe firmly, and to act nobly. Let me not be
+tempted to waste my time, and weaken my powers, by attempts to soar on
+feeble pinions "where angels bashful look." In _faith_ let me interpret
+the universe!
+
+
+MEDITATION SECOND.
+
+     "Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath
+     hedged in?"--_Job_ iii. 23.
+
+This pathetic inquiry rises from all parts of the globe, from millions
+of human souls, to that heaven from whence the light proceeds. From the
+young, full of eager aspirations after virtue and glory; with the glance
+of the falcon to descry the high-placed aim,--but ah! the wing of the
+wren to reach it! The young enthusiast must often weep. His heart glows,
+his eye sparkles as he reads of the youthful triumphs of a Pompey, the
+sublime devotion of an Agis;[34] he shuts the book, he looks around him
+for a theatre whereon to do likewise--petty pursuits, mean feelings, and
+trifling pleasures meet his eye; the cold breeze of selfishness has
+nipped every flower; the dull glow of prosaic life overpowers the
+beauties of the landscape. He plunges into the unloved pursuit, or some
+despised amusement, to soothe that day's impatience, and wakes on the
+morrow, crying, "I have lost a day; and where, where shall I now turn my
+steps to find the destined path?" The gilded image of some petty victory
+holds forth a talisman which seems to promise him sure tokens. He rushes
+forward; the swords of foes and rivals bar the way; the ground trembles
+and gives way beneath his feet; rapid streams, unseen at a distance,
+roll between him and the object of his pursuit; faint, giddy and
+exhausted by the loss of his best blood, he reaches the goal, seizes the
+talisman; his eyes devour the inscription--alas! the characters are
+unknown to him. He looks back for some friend who might aid him,--his
+friends are whelmed beneath the torrent, or have turned back
+disheartened. He must struggle onward alone and ignorant as before; yet
+in his wishes there is light.
+
+Another is attracted by a lovely phantom; with airy step she precedes
+him, holding, as he thinks, in her upward-pointing hand the faithful
+needle which might point him to the pole-star of his wishes. Unwearied
+he follows, imploring her in most moving terms to pause but a moment and
+let him take her hand. Heedless she flits onward to some hopeless
+desert, where she pauses only to turn to her unfortunate captive the
+malicious face of a very Morgana.
+
+The old,--O their sighs are deeper still! They have wandered far, toiled
+much; the true light is now shown them. Ah, why was it reflected so
+falsely through "life's many-colored dome of painted glass" upon their
+youthful, anxious gaze? And now the path they came by is hedged in by
+new circumstances against the feet of others, and its devious course
+vainly mapped in their memories; should the light of their example lead
+others into the same track, these unlucky followers will vainly seek an
+issue. They attempt to unroll their charts for the use of their
+children, and their children's children. They feed the dark lantern of
+wisdom with the oil of experience, and hold it aloft over the declivity
+up which these youth are blundering, in vain; some fall, misled by the
+flickering light; others seek by-paths, along which they hope to be
+guided by suns or moons of their own. All meet at last, only to bemoan
+or sneer together. How many strive with feverish zeal to paint on the
+clouds of outward life the hues of their own souls; what do not these
+suffer? What baffling,--what change in the atmosphere on which they
+depend,--yet _not_ in vain! Something they realize, something they
+grasp, something (O, how unlike the theme of their hope!) they have
+created. A transient glow, a deceitful thrill,--these be the blisses of
+mortals. Yet have these given birth to noble deeds, and thoughts worthy
+to be recorded by the pens of angels on the tablets of immortality.
+
+And this, O man! is thy only solace in those paroxysms of despair which
+must result to the yet eager heart from the vast disproportion between
+our perceptions and our exhibition of those perceptions. Seize on all
+the twigs that may help thee in thine ascent, though the thorns upon
+them rend thee. Toil ceaselessly towards the Source of light, and
+remember that he who thus eloquently lamented found that, although far
+worse than his dark presentiments had pictured came upon him, though
+vainly he feared and trembled, and there was no safety for him, yet his
+sighings came before his meat, and, happy in their recollection, he
+found at last that danger and imprisonment are but for a season, and
+that God is _good_, as he is great.
+
+
+
+
+APPEAL FOR AN ASYLUM FOR DISCHARGED FEMALE CONVICTS.
+
+
+The ladies of the Prison Association have been from time to time engaged
+in the endeavor to procure funds for establishing this asylum.[35] They
+have met, thus far, with little success; but touched by the position of
+several women, who, on receiving their discharge, were anxiously waiting
+in hope there would be means provided to save them from return to their
+former suffering and polluted life, they have taken a house, and begun
+their good work, in faith that Heaven must take heed that such an
+enterprise may not fail, and touch the hearts of men to aid it.
+
+They have taken a house, and secured the superintendence of an excellent
+matron. There are already six women under her care. But this house is
+unprovided with furniture, or the means of securing food for body and
+mind to these unfortunates, during the brief novitiate which gives them
+so much to learn and unlearn.
+
+The object is to lend a helping hand to the many who show a desire of
+reformation, but have hitherto been inevitably repelled into infamy by
+the lack of friends to find them honest employment, and a temporary
+refuge till it can be procured. Efforts will be made to instruct them
+how to break up bad habits, and begin a healthy course for body and
+mind.
+
+The house has in it scarcely any thing. It is a true Lazarus
+establishment, asking for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's
+table. Old furniture would be acceptable, clothes, books that are no
+longer needed by their owners.
+
+This statement we make in appealing to the poor, though they are,
+usually, the most generous. Not that they are, originally, better than
+the rich, but circumstances have fitted them to appreciate the
+misfortunes, the trials, the wrongs that beset those a little lower than
+themselves. But we have seen too many instances where those who were
+educated in luxury would cast aside sloth and selfishness with eagerness
+when once awakened to better things, not to hope in appealing to the
+rich also.
+
+And to all we appeal: to the poor, who will know how to sympathize with
+those who are not only poor but degraded, diseased, likely to be hurried
+onward to a shameful, hopeless death; to the rich, to equalize the
+advantages of which they have received more than their share; to men, to
+atone for wrongs inflicted by men on that "weaker sex," who should, they
+say, be soft, confiding, dependent on them for protection; to women, to
+feel for those who have not been guarded either by social influence or
+inward strength from that first mistake which the opinion of the world
+makes irrevocable for women alone. Since their danger is so great, their
+fall so remediless, let mercies be multiplied when there is a chance of
+that partial restoration which society at present permits.
+
+In New York we have come little into contact with that class of society
+which has a surplus of leisure at command; but in other cities we have,
+found in their ranks many--some men, more women--who wanted only a
+decided object and clear light to fill the noble office of disinterested
+educators and guardians to their less fortunate fellows. It has been our
+happiness, in not a few instances, by merely apprising such persons of
+what was to be done, to rouse that generous spirit which relieved them
+from ennui and a gradual ossification of the whole system, and
+transferred them into a thoughtful, sympathetic, and beneficent
+existence. Such, no doubt, are near us here, if we could but know it. A
+poet writes thus of the cities:--
+
+    Cities of proud hotels,
+        Houses of rich and great,
+    A stack of smoking chimneys,
+        A roof of frozen slate!
+    It cannot conquer folly,
+        Time, and space, conquering steam,
+    And the light, outspeeding telegraph,
+        Bears nothing on its beam.
+
+    The politics are base,
+        The letters do not cheer,
+    And 'tis far in the deeps of history,
+        The voice that speaketh clear.
+    Trade and the streets insnare us,
+        Our bodies are weak and worn,
+    We plot and corrupt each other,
+        And we despoil the unborn.
+
+    Yet there in the parlor sits
+        Some figure of noble guise,
+    Our angel in a stranger's form,
+        Or woman's pleading eyes.
+    Or only a flashing sunbeam
+        In at the window pane,
+    Or music pours on mortals
+        Its beautiful disdain.
+
+These "pleading eyes," these "angels in strangers' forms," we meet, or
+seem to meet, as we pass through the thoroughfares of this great city.
+We do not know their names or homes. We cannot go to those still and
+sheltered abodes and tell them the tales that would be sure to awaken
+the heart to a deep and active interest in this matter. But should these
+words meet their eyes, we would say, "Have you entertained your leisure
+hours with the Mysteries of Paris, or the pathetic story of Violet
+Woodville?" Then you have some idea how innocence, worthy of the
+brightest planet, may be betrayed by want, or by the most generous
+tenderness; how the energies of a noble reformation may lie hidden
+beneath the ashes of a long burning, as in the case of "La Louve." You
+must have felt that yourselves are not better, only more protected
+children of God than these. Do you want to link these fictions, which
+have made you weep, with facts around you where your pity might be of
+use? Go to the Penitentiary at Blackwell's Island. You may be repelled
+by seeing those who are in health while at work together, keeping up one
+another's careless spirit and effrontery by bad association. But see
+them in the Hospital,--where the worn features of the sick show the sad
+ruins of past loveliness, past gentleness. See in the eyes of the nurses
+the woman's spirit still, so kindly, so inspiring. See those little
+girls huddled in a corner, their neglected dress and hair contrasting
+with some ribbon of cherished finery held fast in a childish hand. Think
+what "sweet seventeen" was to you, and what it is to them, and see if
+you do not wish to aid in any enterprise that gives them a chance of
+better days. We assume no higher claim for this enterprise. The dreadful
+social malady which creates the need of it, is one that imperatively
+demands deep-searching, preventive measures; it is beyond cure. But,
+here and there, some precious soul may be saved from unwilling sin,
+unutterable woe. Is not the hope to save here and there _one_ worthy of
+great and persistent sacrifice?
+
+
+
+
+THE RICH MAN.
+
+AN IDEAL SKETCH.
+
+
+In my walks through this city, the sight of spacious and expensive
+dwelling-houses now in process of building, has called up the following
+reverie.
+
+All benevolent persons, whether deeply-thinking on, or deeply-feeling,
+the woes, difficulties, and dangers of our present social system, are
+agreed that either great improvements are needed, or a thorough reform.
+
+Those who desire the latter include the majority of thinkers. And we
+ourselves, both from personal observation and the testimony of others,
+are convinced that a radical reform is needed; not a reform that rejects
+the instruction of the past, or asserts that God and man have made
+mistakes till now. We believe that all past developments have taken
+place under natural and necessary laws, and that the Paternal Spirit has
+at no period forgotten his children, but granted to all generations and
+all ages their chances of good to balance inevitable ills. We prize the
+past; we recognize it as our parent, our nurse, and our teacher; and we
+know that for a time the new wine required the old bottles, to prevent
+its being spilled upon the ground.
+
+Still we feel that the time is come which not only permits, but demands,
+a wider statement and a nobler action. The aspect of society presents
+mighty problems, which must be solved by the soul of man
+"divinely-intending" itself to the task, or all will become worse
+instead of better, and ere long the social fabric totter to decay.
+
+Yet while the new measures are ripening, and the new men educating,
+there is still room on the old platform for some worthy action. It is
+possible for a man of piety, resolution, and good sense, to lead a life
+which, if not expansive, generous, graceful, and pure from suspicion and
+contempt, is yet not entirely unworthy of his position as the child of
+God, and ruler of a planet.
+
+Let us take, then, some men just where they find themselves, in a mixed
+state of society, where, in quantity, we are free to say the bad
+preponderates, though the good, from its superior energy in quality, may
+finally redeem and efface its plague-spots.
+
+Our society is ostensibly under the rule of the precepts of Jesus. We
+will then suppose a youth sufficiently imbued with these, to understand
+what is conveyed under the parables of the unjust steward, and the
+prodigal son, as well as the denunciations of the opulent Jews. He
+understands that it is needful to preserve purity and teachableness,
+since of those most like little children is the kingdom of heaven; mercy
+for the sinner, since there is peculiar joy in heaven at the salvation
+of such; perpetual care for the unfortunate, since only to the just
+steward shall his possessions be pardoned. Imbued with such love, the
+young man joins the active,--we will say, in choosing an
+instance,--joins the commercial world.
+
+His views of his profession are not those which make of the many a herd,
+not superior, except in the far reach of their selfish interests, to the
+animals; mere calculating, money-making machines.
+
+He sees in commerce a representation of most important interests, a
+grand school that may teach the heart and soul of the civilized world to
+a willing, thinking mind. He plays his part in the game, but not for
+himself alone; he sees the interests of all mankind engaged with his,
+and remembers them while he furthers his own. His intellectual
+discernment, no less than his moral, thus teaching the undesirableness
+of lying and stealing, he does not practise or connive at the falsities
+and meannesses so frequent among his fellows; he suffers many turns of
+the wheel of fortune to pass unused, since he cannot avail himself of
+them and keep clean his hands. What he gains is by superior assiduity,
+skill in combination and calculation, and quickness of sight. His gains
+are legitimate, so far as the present state of things permits any gains
+to be.
+
+Nor is this honorable man denied his due rank in the most corrupt state
+of society. Here, happily, we draw from life, and speak of what we know.
+Honesty is, indeed, the best policy, only it is so in the long run, and
+therefore a policy which a selfish man has not faith and patience to
+pursue. The influence of the honest man is in the end predominant, and
+the rogues who sneer because he will not shuffle the cards in _their_
+way, are forced to bow to it at last.
+
+But while thus conscientious and mentally-progressive, he does not
+forget to live. The sharp and care-worn faces, the joyless lives that
+throng the busy street, do not make him forget his need of tender
+affections, of the practices of bounty and love. His family, his
+acquaintance, especially those who are struggling with the difficulties
+of life, are not obliged to wait till he has accumulated a certain sum.
+He is sunlight and dew to them now, day by day. No less do all in his
+employment prize and bless the just, the brotherly man. He dares not,
+would not, climb to power upon their necks. He requites their toil
+handsomely, always; if his success be unusual, they share the benefit.
+Their comfort is cared for in all the arrangements for their work. He
+takes care, too, to be personally acquainted with those he employs,
+regarding them, not as mere tools of his purpose, but as human beings
+also; he keeps them in his eye, and if it be in his power to supply
+their need of consolation, instruction, or even pleasure, they find they
+have a friend.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaims our sharp-eyed, thin-lipped antagonist. "Such a man
+would never get rich,--or even _get along_!"
+
+You are mistaken, Mr. Stockjobber. Thus far many lines of our sketch are
+drawn from real life; though for the second part, which follows, we
+want, as yet, a worthy model.
+
+We must imagine, then, our ideal merchant to have grown rich in some
+forty years of toil passed in the way we have indicated. His hair is
+touched with white, but his form is vigorous yet. Neither _gourmandise_
+nor the fever of gain has destroyed his complexion, quenched the light
+of his eye, or substituted sneers for smiles. He is an upright, strong,
+sagacious, generous-looking man; and if his movements be abrupt, and his
+language concise, somewhat beyond the standard of beauty, he is still
+the gentleman; mercantile, but a mercantile nobleman.
+
+Our nation is not silly in striving for an aristocracy. Humanity longs
+for its upper classes. But the silliness consists in making them out of
+clothes, equipage, and a servile imitation of foreign manners, instead
+of the genuine elegance and distinction that can only be produced by
+genuine culture. Shame upon the stupidity which, when all circumstances
+leave us free for the introduction of a real aristocracy such as the
+world never saw, bases its pretensions on, or makes its bow to the
+footman behind, the coach, instead of the person within it.
+
+But our merchant shall be a real nobleman, whose noble manners spring
+from a noble mind, whose fashions from a sincere, intelligent love of
+the beautiful.
+
+We will also indulge the fancy of giving him a wife and children worthy
+of himself. Having lived in sympathy with him, they have acquired no
+taste for luxury; they do not think that the best use for wealth and
+power is in self-indulgence, but, on the contrary, that "it is more
+blessed to give than to receive."
+
+He is now having one of those fine houses built, and, as in other
+things, proceeds on a few simple principles. It is substantial, for he
+wishes to give no countenance to the paper buildings that correspond
+with other worthless paper currency of a credit system. It is thoroughly
+finished and furnished, for he has a conscience about his house, as
+about the neatness of his person. All must be of a piece. Harmony and a
+wise utility are consulted, without regard to show. Still, as a rich
+man, we allow him reception-rooms, lofty, large, adorned with good
+copies of ancient works of art, and fine specimens of modern.
+
+I admit, in this instance, the propriety of my nobleman often choosing
+by advice of friends, who may have had more leisure and opportunity to
+acquire a sure appreciation of merit in these walks. His character being
+simple, he will, no doubt, appreciate a great part of what is truly
+grand and beautiful. But also, from imperfect culture, he might often
+reject what in the end he would have found most valuable to himself and
+others. For he has not done learning, but only acquired the privilege of
+helping to open a domestic school, in which he will find himself a pupil
+as well as a master. So he may well make use, in furnishing himself with
+the school apparatus, of the best counsel. The same applies to making
+his library a good one. Only there must be no sham; no pluming himself
+on possessions that represent his wealth, but the taste of others. Our
+nobleman is incapable of pretension, or the airs of connoisseurship; his
+object is to furnish a home with those testimonies of a higher life in
+man, that may best aid to cultivate the same in himself and those
+assembled round him.
+
+He shall also have a fine garden and greenhouses. But the flowers shall
+not be used only to decorate his apartments, or the hair of his
+daughters, but shall often bless, by their soft and exquisite eloquence,
+the poor invalid, or others whose sorrowful hearts find in their society
+a consolation and a hope which nothing else bestows. For flowers, the
+highest expression of the bounty of nature, declare that for all men,
+not merely labor, or luxury, but gentle, buoyant, ever-energetic joy,
+was intended, and bid us hope that we shall not forever be kept back
+from our inheritance.
+
+All the persons who have aided in building up this domestic temple, from
+the artist who painted the ceilings to the poorest hodman, shall be well
+paid and cared for during its erection; for it is a necessary part of
+the happiness of our nobleman, to feel that all concerned in creating
+his home are the happier for it.
+
+We have said nothing about the architecture of the house, and yet this
+is only for want of room. We do consider it one grand duty of every
+person able to build a good house, also to aim at building a beautiful
+one. We do not want imitations of what was used in other ages, nations,
+and climates, but what is simple, noble, and in conformity with the
+wants of our own. Room enough, simplicity of design, and judicious
+adjustment of the parts to their uses and to the whole, are the first
+requisites; the ornaments are merely the finish on these. We hope to see
+a good style of civic architecture long before any material improvement
+in the country edifices, for reasons that would be tedious to enumerate
+here. Suffice it to say that we are far more anxious to see an American
+architecture than an American literature; for we are sure there is here
+already something individual to express.
+
+Well, suppose the house built and equipped with man and horse. You may
+be sure my nobleman gives his "hired help" good accommodations for their
+sleeping and waking hours,--baths, books, and some leisure to use them.
+Nay, I assure you--and this assurance also is drawn from life--that it
+is possible, even in our present social relations, for the man who does
+common justice, in these respects, to his fellows, and shows a friendly
+heart, that thoroughly feels service to be no degradation, but an honor,
+who believes
+
+    "A man's a MAN for a' that;"--
+    "Honor in the king the wisdom of his service,
+     Honor in the serf the fidelity of his service,"--
+
+to have around him those who do their work in serenity of mind, neither
+deceiving nor envying him whom circumstances have enabled to command
+their service. As to the carriage, that is used for the purpose of going
+to and fro in bad weather, or ill health, or haste, or for drives to
+enjoy the country. But my nobleman and his family are too well born and
+bred not to prefer employing their own feet when possible. And their
+carriage is much appropriated to the use of poor invalids, even among
+the abhorred class of poor relations, so that often they have not room
+in it for themselves, much less for flaunting dames and lazy dandies.
+
+We need hardly add that, their attendants wear no liveries. They are
+aware that, in a society where none of the causes exist that justify
+this habit abroad, the practice would have no other result than to call
+up a sneer to the lips of the most complaisant "milor," when "Mrs.
+Higginbottom's carriage stops the way," with its tawdry, ill-fancied
+accompaniments. _Will_ none of their "governors" tell our cits the
+AEsopian fable of the donkey that tried to imitate the gambols of the
+little dog?
+
+The wife of my nobleman is so well matched with him that she has no need
+to be the better half. She is his almoner, his counsellor, and the
+priestess who keeps burning on the domestic hearth a fire from the fuel
+he collects in his out-door work, whose genial heart and aspiring flame
+comfort and animate all who come within its range.
+
+His children are his ministers, whose leisure and various qualifications
+enable them to carry out his good thoughts. They hold all that they
+possess--time, money, talents, acquirements--on the principle of
+stewardship. They wake up the seeds of virtue and genius in all the
+young persons of their acquaintance; but the poorer classes are
+especially their care. Among them they seek for those who are threatened
+with dying--"mute, inglorious" Hampdens and Miltons--but for their
+scrutiny and care; of these they become the teachers and patrons to the
+extent of their power. Such knowledge of the arts, sciences, and just
+principles of action as they have been favored with, they communicate,
+and thereby form novices worthy to fill up the ranks of the true
+American aristocracy.
+
+And the house--it is a large one; a simple family does not fill its
+chambers. Some of them are devoted to the use of men of genius, who need
+a serene home, free from care, while they pursue their labors for the
+good of the world. Thus, as in the palaces of the little princes of
+Italy in a better day, these chambers become hallowed by the nativities
+of great thoughts; and the horoscopes of the human births that may take
+place there, are likely to read the better for it. Suffering virtue
+sometimes finds herself taken home here, instead of being sent to the
+almshouse, or presented with half a dollar and a ticket for coal, and
+finds upon my nobleman's mattresses (for the wealth of Croesus would
+not lure him or his to sleep upon down) dreams of angelic protection
+which enable her to rise refreshed for the struggle of the morrow.
+
+The uses of hospitality are very little understood among us, so that we
+fear generally there is a small chance of entertaining gods and angels
+unawares, as the Greeks and Hebrews did in the generous time of
+hospitality, when every man had a claim on the roof of fellow-man. Now,
+none is received to a bed and breakfast unless he come as "bearer of
+despatches" from His Excellency So-and-so.
+
+But let us not be supposed to advocate the system of all work and no
+play, or to delight exclusively in the pedagogic and Goody-Two-Shoes
+vein. Reader, if any such accompany me to this scene of my vision, cheer
+up; I hear the sound of music in full band, and see the banquet
+prepared. Perhaps they are even dancing the polka and redowa in those
+airy, well-lighted rooms. In another they find in the acting of
+extempore dramas, arrangement of tableaux, little concerts or
+recitations, intermingled with beautiful national or fancy dances, some
+portion of the enchanting, refining, and ennobling influence of the
+arts. The finest engravings on all subjects attend such as like to
+employ themselves more quietly, while those who can find a companion or
+congenial group to converse with, find also plenty of recesses and still
+rooms, with softened light, provided for their pleasure.
+
+There is not on this side of the Atlantic--we dare our glove upon it--a
+more devout believer than ourselves in the worship of the Muses and
+Graces, both for itself, and its importance no less to the moral than to
+the intellectual life of a nation. Perhaps there is not one who has _so_
+deep a feeling, or so many suggestions ready, in the fulness of time, to
+be hazarded on the subject.
+
+But in order to such worship, what standard is there as to admission to
+the service? Talents of gold, or Delphian talents? fashion or elegance?
+"standing" or the power to move gracefully from one position to another?
+
+Our nobleman did not hesitate; the handle to his door bell was not of
+gold, but mother-of-pearl, pure and prismatic.
+
+If he did not go into the alleys to pick up the poor, they were not
+excluded, if qualified by intrinsic qualities to adorn the scene.
+Neither were wealth or fashion a cause of exclusion, more than of
+admission. All depended on the person; yet he did not _seek_ his guests
+among the slaves of fashion, for he knew that persons highly endowed
+rarely had patience with the frivolities of that class, but retired, and
+left it to be peopled mostly by weak and plebeian natures. Yet all
+depended on the individual. Was the person fair, noble, wise, brilliant,
+or even only youthfully innocent and gay, or venerable in a good old
+age, he or she was welcome. Still, as simplicity of character and some
+qualification positively good, healthy, and natural, was requisite for
+admission, we must say the company was select. Our nobleman and his
+family had weeded their "circle" carefully, year by year.
+
+Some valued acquaintances they had made in ball-rooms and boudoirs, and
+kept; but far more had been made through the daily wants of life, and
+shoemakers, seamstresses, and graziers mingled happily with artists and
+statesmen, to the benefit of both. (N.B.--None used the poisonous weed,
+in or out of our domestic temple.)
+
+I cannot tell you what infinite good our nobleman and his family were
+doing by creation of this true social centre, where the legitimate
+aristocracy of the land assembled, not to be dazzled by expensive
+furniture, (our nobleman bought what was good in texture and beautiful
+in form, but not _because_ it was expensive,) not to be feasted on rare
+wines and highly-seasoned dainties, though they found simple
+refreshments well prepared, as indeed it was a matter of duty and
+conscience in that house that the least office should be well fulfilled,
+but to enjoy the generous confluence of mind with mind and heart with
+heart, the pastimes that are not waste-times of taste and inventive
+fancy, the cordial union of beings from all points and places in noble
+human sympathy. New York was beginning to be truly American, or rather
+Columbian, and money stood for something in the records of history. It
+had brought opportunity to genius and aid to virtue. But just at this
+moment, the jostling showed me that I had reached the corner of Wall
+Street. I looked earnestly at the omnibuses discharging their eager
+freight, as if I hoped to see my merchant. "Perhaps he has gone to the
+post office to take out letters from his friends in Utopia," thought I.
+"Please give me a penny," screamed a half-starved ragged little
+street-sweep, and the fancied cradle of the American Utopia receded, or
+rather proceeded, fifty years, at least, into the future.
+
+
+
+
+THE POOR MAN.
+
+AN IDEAL SKETCH.
+
+
+The foregoing sketch of the Rich Man, seems to require this
+companion-piece; and we shall make the attempt, though the subject is
+far more difficult than the former was.
+
+In the first place, we must state what we mean by a poor man, for it is
+a term of wide range in its relative applications. A painstaking
+artisan, trained to self-denial, and a strict adaptation, not of his
+means to his wants, but of his wants to his means, finds himself rich
+and grateful, if some unexpected fortune enables him to give his wife a
+new gown, his children cheap holiday joys, and his starving neighbor a
+decent meal; while George IV., when heir apparent to the throne of Great
+Britain, considered himself driven by the pressure of poverty to become
+a debtor, a beggar, a swindler, and, by the aid of perjury, the husband
+of two wives at the same time, neither of whom he treated well. Since
+poverty is made an excuse for such depravity in conduct, it would be
+well to mark the limits within which self-control and resistance to
+temptation may be expected.
+
+When he of the olden time prayed, "Give me neither poverty nor riches,"
+we presume he meant that proportion of means to the average wants of a
+human being which secures freedom from pecuniary cares, freedom of
+motion, and a moderate enjoyment of the common blessings offered by
+earth, air, water, the natural relations, and the subjects for thought
+which every day presents. We shall certainly not look above this point
+for our poor man. A prince may be poor, if he has not means to relieve
+the sufferings of his subjects, or secure to them needed benefits. Or he
+may make himself so, just as a well-paid laborer by drinking brings
+poverty to his roof. So may the prince, by the mental gin of
+horse-racing or gambling, grow a beggar. But we shall not consider these
+cases.
+
+Our subject will be taken between the medium we have spoken of as answer
+to the wise man's prayer, and that destitution which we must style
+infamous, either to the individual or to the society whose vices have
+caused that stage of poverty, in which there is no certainty, and often
+no probability, of work or bread from day to day,--in which cleanliness
+and all the decencies of life are impossible, and the natural human
+feelings are turned to gall because the man finds himself on this earth
+in a far worse situation than the brute. In this stage there is no
+ideal, and from its abyss, if the unfortunates look up to Heaven, or the
+state of things as they ought to be, it is with suffocating gasps which
+demand relief or death. This degree of poverty is common, as we all
+know; but we who do not share it have no right to address those who do
+from our own standard, till we have placed their feet on our own level.
+Accursed is he who does not long to have this so--to take out at least
+the physical hell from this world! Unblest is he who is not seeking,
+either by thought or act, to effect this poor degree of amelioration in
+the circumstances of his race.
+
+We take the subject of our sketch, then, somewhere between the abjectly
+poor and those in moderate circumstances. What we have to say may apply
+to either sex, and to any grade in this division of the human family,
+from the hodman and washerwoman up to the hard-working, poorly-paid
+lawyer clerk, schoolmaster, or scribe.
+
+The advantages of such a position are many. In the first place, you
+belong, inevitably, to the active and suffering part of the world. You
+know the ills that try men's souls and bodies. You cannot creep into a
+safe retreat, arrogantly to judge, or heartlessly to forget, the others.
+They are always before you; you see the path stained by their bleeding
+feet; stupid and flinty, indeed, must you be, if you can hastily wound,
+or indolently forbear to aid them. Then, as to yourself, you know what
+your resources are; what you can do, what bear; there is small chance
+for you to escape a well-tempered modesty. Then again, if you find power
+in yourself to endure the trial, there is reason and reality in some
+degree of self-reliance. The moral advantages of such training can
+scarcely fail to amount to something; and as to the mental, that most
+important chapter, how the lives of men are fashioned and transfused by
+the experience of passion and the development of thought, presents new
+sections at every turn, such as the distant dilettante's opera-glasses
+will never detect,--to say nothing of the exercise of mere faculty,
+which, though insensible in its daily course, leads to results of
+immense importance.
+
+But the evils, the disadvantages, the dangers, how many, how imminent!
+True, indeed, they are so. There is the early bending of the mind to the
+production of marketable results, which must hinder all this free play
+of intelligence, and deaden the powers that craved instruction. There is
+the callousness produced by the sight of more misery than it is possible
+to relieve; the heart, at first so sensitive, taking refuge in a stolid
+indifference against the pangs of sympathetic pain, it had not force to
+bear. There is the perverting influence of uncongenial employments,
+undertaken without or against choice, continued at unfit hours and
+seasons, till the man loses his natural relations with summer and
+winter, day and night, and has no sense more for natural beauty and joy.
+There is the mean providence, the perpetual caution to guard against
+ill, instead of the generous freedom of a mind which expects good to
+ensue from all good actions. There is the sad doubt whether it will
+_do_ to indulge the kindly impulse, the calculation of dangerous
+chances, and the cost between the loving impulse and its fulfilment.
+Yes; there is bitter chance of narrowness, meanness, and dulness on this
+path, and it requires great natural force, a wise and large view of life
+taken at an early age, or fervent trust in God, to evade them.
+
+It is astonishing to see the poor, no less than the rich, the slaves of
+externals. One would think that, where the rich man once became aware of
+the worthlessness of the mere trappings of life from the weariness of a
+spirit that found itself entirely dissatisfied after pomp and
+self-indulgence, the poor man would learn this a hundred times from the
+experience how entirely independent of them is all that is intrinsically
+valuable in our life. But, no! The poor man wants dignity, wants
+elevation of spirit. It is his own servility that forges the fetters
+that enslave him. Whether he cringe to, or rudely defy, the man in the
+coach and handsome coat, the cause and effect are the same. He is
+influenced by a costume and a position. He is not firmly rooted in the
+truth that only in so far as outward beauty and grandeur are
+representative of the mind of the possessor, can they count for any
+thing at all. O, poor man! you are poor indeed, if you feel yourself so;
+poor if you do not feel that a soul born of God, a mind capable of
+scanning the wondrous works of time and space, and a flexible body for
+its service, are the essential riches of a man, and all he needs to make
+him the equal of any other man. You are mean, if the possession of money
+or other external advantages can make you envy or shrink from a being
+mean enough to value himself upon such. Stand where you may, O man, you
+cannot be noble and rich if your brow be not broad and steadfast, if
+your eye beam not with a consciousness of inward worth, of eternal
+claims and hopes which such trifles cannot at all affect. A man without
+this majesty is ridiculous amid the flourish and decorations procured
+by money, pitiable in the faded habiliments of poverty. But a man who is
+a man, a woman who is a woman, can never feel lessened or embarrassed
+because others look ignorantly on such matters. If they regret the want
+of these temporary means of power, it must be solely because it fetters
+their motions, deprives them of leisure and desired means of
+improvement, or of benefiting those they love or pity.
+
+I have heard those possessed of rhetoric and imaginative tendency
+declare that they should have been outwardly great and inwardly free,
+victorious poets and heroes, if fate had allowed them a certain quantity
+of dollars. I have found it impossible to believe them. In early youth,
+penury may have power to freeze the genial current of the soul, and
+prevent it, during one short life, from becoming sensible of its true
+vocation and destiny. But if it _has_ become conscious of these, and yet
+there is not advance in any and all circumstances, no change would
+avail.
+
+No, our poor man must begin higher! He must, in the first place, really
+believe there is a God who ruleth--a fact to which few men vitally bear
+witness, though most are ready to affirm it with the lips.
+
+2. He must sincerely believe that rank and wealth
+
+              "are but the guinea's stamp;
+    The man's the gold;"--
+
+take his stand on his claims as a human being, made in God's own
+likeness, urge them when the occasion permits, but never be so false to
+them as to feel put down or injured by the want of mere external
+advantages.
+
+3. He must accept his lot, while he is in it. If he can change it for
+the better, let his energies be exerted to do so. But if he cannot,
+there is none that will not yield an opening to Eden, to the glories of
+Zion, and even to the subterranean enchantments of our strange estate.
+There is none that may not be used with nobleness.
+
+    "Who sweeps a room, as for Thy sake
+    Makes that and th' action clean."
+
+4. Let him examine the subject enough to be convinced that there is not
+that vast difference between the employments that is supposed, in the
+means of expansion and refinement. All depends on the spirit as to the
+use that is made of an occupation. Mahomet was not a wealthy merchant,
+and profound philosophers have ripened on the benches, not of the
+lawyers, but the shoemakers. It did not hurt Milton to be a poor
+schoolmaster, nor Shakspeare to do the errands of a London play-house.
+Yes, "the mind is its own place," and if it will keep that place, all
+doors will be opened from it. Upon this subject we hope to offer some
+hints at a future day, in speaking of the different trades, professions,
+and modes of labor.
+
+5. Let him remember that from no man can the chief wealth be kept. On
+all men the sun and stars shine; for all the oceans swell and rivers
+flow. All men may be brothers, lovers, fathers, friends; before all lie
+the mysteries of birth and death. If these wondrous means of wealth and
+blessing be likely to remain misused or unused, there are quite as many
+disadvantages in the way of the man of money as of the man who has none.
+Few who drain the choicest grape know the ecstasy of bliss and knowledge
+that follows a full draught of the wine of life. That has mostly been
+reserved for those on whose thoughts society, as a public, makes but a
+moderate claim. And if bitterness followed on the joy, if your fountain
+was frozen after its first gush by the cold winds of the world, yet,
+moneyless men, ye are at least not wholly ignorant of what a human being
+has force to know. You have not skimmed over surfaces, and been dozing
+on beds of down, during the rare and stealthy visits of Love and the
+Muses. Remember this, and, looking round on the arrangements of the
+lottery, see if you did not draw a prize in your turn.
+
+It will be seen that our ideal poor man needs to be religious, wise,
+dignified, and humble, grasping at nothing, claiming all; willing to
+wait, never willing to give up; servile to none, the servant of all, and
+esteeming it the glory of a man to serve. The character is rare, but not
+unattainable. We have, however, found an approach to it more frequent in
+woman than in man.
+
+
+
+
+THE CELESTIAL EMPIRE.
+
+
+During a late visit to Boston, I visited with great pleasure the Chinese
+Museum, which has been opened there.
+
+There was much satisfaction in surveying its rich contents, if merely on
+account of their splendor and elegance, which, though fantastic to our
+tastes, presented an obvious standard of its own by which to prize it.
+The rich dresses of the imperial court, the magnificent jars, (the
+largest worth three hundred dollars, and looking as if it was worth much
+more,) the present-boxes and ivory work, the elegant interiors of the
+home and counting-room,--all these gave pleasure by their perfection,
+each in its kind.
+
+But the chief impression was of that unity of existence, so opposite to
+the European, and, for a change, so pleasant, from its repose and gilded
+lightness. Their imperial majesties do really seem so "perfectly
+serene," that we fancy we might become so under their sway, if not
+"thoroughly virtuous," as they profess to be. Entirely a new mood would
+be ours, as we should sup in one of those pleasure boats, by the light
+of fanciful lanterns, or listen to the tinkling of pagoda bells.
+
+The highest conventional refinement, of a certain kind, is apparent in
+all that belongs to the Chinese. The inviolability of custom has not
+made their life heavy, but shaped it to the utmost adroitness for their
+own purposes. We are now somewhat familiar with their literature, and we
+see pervading it a poetry subtle and aromatic, like the odors of their
+appropriate beverage. Like that, too, it is all domestic,--never wild.
+The social genius, fluttering on the wings of compliment, pervades every
+thing Chinese. Society has moulded them, body and soul; the youngest
+children are more social and Chinese than human; and we doubt not the
+infant, with its first cry, shows its capacity for self-command and
+obedience to superiors.
+
+Their great man, Confucius, expresses this social genius in its most
+perfect state and highest form. His golden wisdom is the quintescence of
+social justice. He never forgets conditions and limits; he is admirably
+wise, pure, and religious, but never towers above humanity--never soars
+into solitude. There is no token of the forest or cave in Confucius. Few
+men could understand him, because his nature was so thoroughly balanced,
+and his rectitude so pure; not because his thoughts were too deep, or
+too high for them. In him should be sought the best genius of the
+Chinese, with that perfect practical good sense whose uses are
+universal.
+
+At one time I used to change from reading Confucius to one of the great
+religious books of another Eastern nation; and it was always like
+leaving the street and the palace for the blossoming forest of the East,
+where in earlier times we are told the angels walked with men and
+talked, not of earth, but of heaven.
+
+As we looked at the forms moving about in the Museum, we could not
+wonder that the Chinese consider us, who call ourselves the civilized
+world, barbarians, so deficient were those forms in the sort of
+refinement that the Chinese prize above all. And our people deserve it
+for their senselessness in viewing _them_ as barbarians, instead of
+seeing how perfectly they represent their own idea. They are inferior to
+us in important developments, but, on the whole, approach far nearer
+their own standard than we do ours. And it is wonderful that an
+enlightened European can fail to prize the sort of beauty they do
+develop. Sets of engravings we have seen representing the culture of the
+tea plant, have brought to us images of an entirely original idyllic
+loveliness. One long resident in China has observed that nothing can be
+more enchanting than the smile of love on the regular, but otherwise
+expressionless face of a Chinese woman. It has the simplicity and
+abandonment of infantine, with the fulness of mature feeling. It never
+varies, but it does not tire.
+
+The same sweetness and elegance stereotyped now, but having originally a
+deep root in their life as a race, may be seen in their poetry and
+music. The last we have heard, both from the voice and several
+instruments, at this Museum, for the first time, and were at first
+tempted to laugh, when something deeper forbade. Like their poetry, the
+music is of the narrowest monotony, a kind of rosary, a repetition of
+phrases, and, in its enthusiasm and conventional excitement, like
+nothing else in the heavens and on the earth. Yet both the poetry and
+music have in them an expression of birds, roses, and moonlight; indeed,
+they suggest that state where "moonlight, and music, and feeling are
+one," though the soul seems to twitter, rather than sing of it.
+
+It is wonderful with how little practical insight travellers in China
+look on what they see. They seem to be struck by points of repulsion at
+once, and neither see nor tell us what could give any real clew to their
+facts. I do not speak now of the recent lecturers in this city, for I
+have not heard them; but of the many, many books into which I have
+earlier looked with eager curiosity,--in vain,--I always found the same
+external facts, and the same prejudices which disabled the observer from
+piercing beneath them. I feel that I know something of the Chinese when
+reading Confucius, or looking at the figures on their tea-cups, or
+drinking a cup of _genuine_ tea--rather an unusual felicity, it is said,
+in this ingenious city, which shares with the Chinese one trait at
+least. But the travellers rather take from than add to this knowledge;
+and a visit to this Museum would give more clear views than all the
+books I ever read yet.
+
+The juggling was well done, and so solemnly, with the same concentrated
+look as the music! I saw the juggler afterwards at Ole Bull's concert,
+and he moved not a muscle while the nightingale was pouring forth its
+sweetest descant. Probably the avenues wanted for these strains to enter
+his heart had been closed by the imperial edict long ago. The
+resemblance borne by this juggler to our Indians is even greater than we
+have seen in any other case. His brotherhood does not, to us, seem
+surprising. Our Indians, too, are stereotyped, though in a different
+way; they are of a mould capable of retaining the impression through
+ages; and many of the traits of the two races, or two branches of a
+race, may seem to be identical, though so widely modified by
+circumstances. They are all opposite to us, who have made ships, and
+balloons, and magnetic telegraphs, as symbolic expressions of our wants,
+and the means of gratifying them. We must console ourselves with these,
+and our organs and pianos, for our want of perfect good breeding,
+serenity, and "thorough virtue."
+
+
+
+
+KLOPSTOCK AND META.[36]
+
+
+The poet had retired from the social circle. Its mirth was to his
+sickened soul a noisy discord, its sentiment a hollow mockery. With
+grief he felt that the recital of a generous action, the vivid
+expression of a noble thought, could only graze the surface of his mind.
+The desolate stillness of death lay brooding on its depths. The friendly
+smiles, the tender attentions which seemed so sweet in those hours when
+Meta was "crown of his cup and garnish of his dish," could give the
+present but a ghastly similitude to those blessed days. While his
+attention, disobedient to his wishes, kept turning painfully inward, the
+voice of the singer suddenly startled it back. A lovely maid, with
+moist, clear eye, and pleadi ng, earnest voice, was seated at the
+harpsichord. She sang a sad, and yet not hopeless, strain, like that of
+a lover who pines in absence, yet hopes again to meet his loved one.
+
+The heart of Klopstock rose to his lips, and natural tears suffused his
+eyes. She paused. Some youth of untouched heart, shallow, as yet, in all
+things, asked for a lively song, the expression of animal enjoyment. She
+hesitated, and cast a sidelong glance at the mourner. Heedlessly the
+request was urged: she wafted over the keys an airy prelude. A cold rush
+of anguish came over the awakened heart; Klopstock rose, and hastily
+left the room.
+
+He entered his apartment, and threw himself upon the bed. The moon was
+nearly at the full: a tree near the large window obscured its radiance,
+and cast into the room a flickering shadow, as its leaves kept swaying
+to and fro with the breeze.
+
+Vainly Klopstock sought for soothing influences in the contemplation of
+the soft and varying light. Sadness is always deepest at this hour of
+celestial calmness. The soul realizes its wants, and longs to be in
+harmony with itself far more in such an hour than when any outward ill
+is arousing or oppressing it.
+
+"Weak, fond wretch that I am!" cried he. "I, the bard of the Messiah! To
+what purpose have I nurtured my soul on the virtues of that sublime
+model, for whom no renunciation was too hard? Four years an angel
+sojourned with me: her presence vivified my soul into purity and
+benevolence like her own. Happy was I as the saints who rest after their
+long struggles in the bosom of perfect love. I thought myself good
+because I sinned not against a bounteous God, because my heart could
+spare some drops of its overflowing oil and balm for the wounds of
+others: now what am I? My angel leaves me, but she leaves with me the
+memory of blissful years and our perfect communion as an earnest of that
+happy meeting which awaits us, if I prove faithful to my own words of
+faith, to those strains of religious confidence which are even now
+cheering onward many an inexperienced youth. And what are my deeds and
+feelings? The springs of life and love frozen, here I lie, sunk in
+grief, as if I knew no world beyond the grave. The joy of others seems
+an insult, their grief a dead letter, compared with my own. Meta! Meta!
+couldst thou see me in my hour of trial, thou wouldst disdain thy chosen
+one!"
+
+A strain of sweet and solemn music swelled on his ear--one of those
+majestic harmonies which, were there no other proof of the soul's
+immortality, must suggest the image of an intellectual paradise. It
+closed, and Meta stood before him. A long veil of silvery whiteness fell
+over her, through which might be seen the fixed but nobly-serene
+expression of the large blue eyes, and a holy, seraphic dignity of mien.
+Klopstock knelt before her: his soul was awed to earth. "Hast thou
+come, my adored!" said he, "from thy home of bliss, to tell me that thou
+no longer lovest thy unworthy friend?"
+
+"O, speak not thus!" replied the softest and most penetrating of voices.
+"God wills not that his purified creatures should look in contempt or
+anger on those suffering the ills from which they are set free. O, no,
+my love! my husband! I come to speak consolation to thy sinking spirit.
+When you left me to breathe my last sigh in the arms of a sister, who,
+however dear, was nothing to my heart in comparison with you, I closed
+my eyes, wishing that the light of day might depart with thee. The
+thought of what thou must suffer convulsed my heart with one last pang.
+Once more I murmured the wish I had so often expressed, that the sorrows
+of the survivor might have fallen to my lot rather than to thine. In
+that pang my soul extricated itself from the body; a sensation like that
+from exquisite fragrance came over me, and with breezy lightness I rose
+into the pure serene. It was a moment of feeling almost wild,--so free,
+so unobscured. I had not yet passed the verge of comparison; I could not
+yet embrace the Infinite: therefore my joy was like those of
+earth--intoxicating.
+
+"Words cannot paint, even to thy eager soul, my friend, the winged
+swiftness, the onward, glowing hopefulness of my path through the fields
+of azure. I paused, at length, in a region of keen, pure, bluish light,
+such as beams from Jupiter to thy planet on a lovely October evening.
+
+"Here an immediate conviction pervaded me that this was home--was my
+appointed resting place; a full tide of hope and satisfaction similar to
+the emotion excited on my first acquaintance with thy poem flowed over
+this hour; a joyous confidence in the existence of Goodness and Beauty
+supplied for a season, the want of thy society. The delicious clearness
+of every emotion exalted my soul into a realm full of life. Some time
+elapsed in this state. The whole of my temporal existence passed in
+review before me. My thoughts, my actions, were placed in full relief
+before the cleared eye of my spirit. Beloved, thou wilt rejoice to know
+that thy Meta could then feel that her worst faults sprung from
+ignorance. As I was striving to connect my present state with my past,
+and, as it were, poising myself on the brink of space and time, the
+breath of another presence came across me, and, gradually evolving from
+the bosom of light, a figure rose before me, in grace, in sweetness, how
+excelling! Fixing her eyes on mine with the full gaze of love, she said,
+in flute-like tones, 'Dost thou know me, my sister?'
+
+"'Art thou not,' I replied, 'the love of Petrarch? I have seen the
+portraiture of thy mortal lineaments, and now recognize that perfect
+beauty, the full violet flower which thy lover's genius was able to
+anticipate.'
+
+"'Yes,' she said, 'I am Laura--on earth most happy, yet most sad; most
+rich, and yet most poor. I come to greet her whom I recognize as the
+inheritress of all that was lovely in my earthly being, more happy than
+I in her temporal state. I have sympathized, O wife of Klopstock! in thy
+transitory happiness. Thy lover was thy priest and thy poet; thy model
+and oracle was thy bosom friend. All that earth could give was thine;
+and I joyed to think on thy rewarded love, thy freedom of soul, and
+unchecked faith. Follow me now: we are to dwell in the same circle, and
+I am appointed to show thee thine abiding place.'
+
+"She guided me towards the source of that light which I have described
+to thee. We paused before a structure of dazzling whiteness, which stood
+on a slope, and overlooked a valley of exceeding beauty. It was shaded
+by trees which had that peculiar calmness that the shadows of trees have
+below in the high noon of summer moonlight--
+
+                '... trees which are still
+      As the shades of trees below,
+    When they sleep on the lonely hill,
+      In the summer moonlight glow.'
+
+It was decked with majestic sculptures, of which I may speak in some
+future interview. Before it rose a fountain, from which the stream of
+light flowed down the valley, dividing it into two unequal parts. The
+larger and farther from us seemed, when I first looked on it, populous
+with shapes, beauteous as that of my guide. But, when I looked more
+fixedly, I saw only the valley, carpeted with large blue and white
+flowers, which emitted a hyacinthine odor. Here, Laura, turning round,
+asked, 'Is not this a poetic home, Meta?'
+
+"I paused a moment ere I replied, 'It is indeed a place of beauty, but
+more like the Greek elysium than the home Klopstock and I were wont to
+picture to ourselves beyond the gates of Death.'
+
+"'Thou sayest well,' she said; 'nor is this thy final home; thou wilt
+but wait here a season, till Klopstock comes.'
+
+"'What' said I, 'alone! alone in Eden?'
+
+"'Has not Meta, then, collected aught on which she might meditate? Hast
+thou never read, "While I was musing, the fire burned"?'
+
+"'Laura,' said I, 'spare the reproach. The love of Petrach, whose soul
+grew up in golden fetters, whose strongest emotions, whose most natural
+actions were, through a long life, constantly repressed by the dictates
+of duty and honor, she content might pass long years in that
+contemplation which was on earth her only solace. But I, whose life has
+all been breathed out in love and ministry, can I endure that my
+existence be reversed? Can I live without utterance of spirit? or would
+such be a stage of that progressive happiness we are promised?'
+
+"'True, little one!' said she, with her first heavenly smile; 'nor shall
+it be thus with thee. A ministry is appointed thee--the same which I
+exercised while waiting here for that friend whom below I was forbidden
+to call my own.'
+
+"She touched me, and from my shoulders sprung a pair of wings, white and
+azure, wide and glistering.
+
+"'Meta!' she resumed, 'spirit of love! be this thine office. Wherever a
+soul pines in absence from all companionship, breathe sweet thoughts of
+sympathy to be had in another life, if deserved by virtuous exertions
+and mental progress. Bind up the wounds of hearts torn by bereavement;
+teach them where healing is to be found. Revive in the betrayed and
+forsaken heart that belief in virtue and nobleness, without which life
+is an odious, disconnected dream. Fan every flame of generous
+enthusiasm, and on the altars where it is kindled strew thou the incense
+of wisdom. In such a ministry thou couldst never be alone, since hope
+must dwell with thee. But I shall often come and discourse to thee of
+the future glories of thy destiny. Yet more: Seest thou that marble
+tablet? Retire here when thy pinions are wearied. Give up thy soul to
+faith. Fix thine eyes on the tablet, and the deeds and thoughts which
+fill the days of Klopstock shall he traced on it. Thus shall ye not be
+for a day divided. Hast thou, Meta, aught more to ask?"
+
+"'Messenger of peace and bliss!' said I, 'dare I frame another request?
+Is it too presumptuous to ask that Klopstock may be one of those to whom
+I minister, and that he may know it is Meta who consoles him?'
+
+"'Even this, to a certain extent, I have power to grant. Most pure, most
+holy was thy life with Klopstock; ye taught one another only good
+things, and peculiarly are ye rewarded. Thou mayst occasionally manifest
+thyself to him, and answer his prayers with words,--so long,' she
+continued, looking fixedly at me, 'as he continues true to himself and
+thee!'
+
+"O, my beloved, why tell thee what were my emotions at such a promise?
+Ah! I must now leave thee, for dawn is bringing back the world's doings.
+Soon I shall visit thee again. Farewell! Remember that thy every thought
+and deed will be known to me, and be happy!"
+
+She vanished.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT FITS A MAN TO BE A VOTER?
+
+A FABLE.
+
+
+The country had been denuded of its forests, and men cried, "Come! we
+must plant anew, or there will be no shade for the homes of our
+children, or fuel for their hearths. Let us find the best kernels for a
+new growth." And a basket of butternuts was offered.
+
+But the planters rejected it with disgust. "What a black, rough coat it
+has!" said they; "it is entirely unfit for the dishes on a nobleman's
+table, nor have we ever seen it in such places. It must have a greasy,
+offensive kernel; nor can fine trees grow up from such a nut."
+
+"Friends," said one of the planters, "this decision may be rash. The
+chestnut has not a handsome outside; it is long encased in troublesome
+burs, and, when disengaged, is almost as black as these nuts you
+despise. Yet from it grow trees of lofty stature, graceful form, and
+long life. Its kernel is white, and has furnished food to the most
+poetic and splendid nations of the older world."
+
+"Don't tell me," says another; "brown is entirely different from black.
+I like brown very well; there is Oriental precedent for its
+respectability. Perhaps we will use some of your chestnuts, if we can
+get fine samples. But for the present, I think we should use only
+English walnuts, such as our forefathers delighted to honor. Here are
+many basketsful of them, quite enough for the present. We will plant
+them with a sprinkling between of the chestnut and acorn."
+
+"But," rejoined the other, "many butternuts are beneath the sod, and
+you cannot help a mixture of them being in your wood, at any rate."
+
+"Well, we will grub them up and cut them down whenever we find them. We
+can use the young shrubs for kindlings."
+
+At that moment two persons entered the council of a darker complexion
+than most of those present, as if born beneath the glow of a more
+scorching sun. First came a woman, beautiful in the mild, pure grandeur
+of her look; in whose large dark eye a prophetic intelligence was
+mingled with infinite sweetness. She looked at the assembly with an air
+of surprise, as if its aspect was strange to her. She threw quite back
+her veil, and stepping aside, made room for her companion. His form was
+youthful, about the age of one we have seen in many a picture produced
+by the thought of eighteen centuries, as of one "instructing the
+doctors." I need not describe the features; all minds have their own
+impressions of such an image,
+
+    "Severe in youthful beauty."
+
+In his hand he bore a white banner, on which was embroidered, "PEACE AND
+GOOD WILL TO MEN." And the words seemed to glitter and give out sparks,
+as he paused in the assembly.
+
+"I came hither," said he, "an uninvited guest, because I read sculptured
+above the door 'All men born free and equal,' and in this dwelling hoped
+to find myself at home. What is the matter in dispute?"
+
+Then they whispered one to another, and murmurs were heard--"He is a
+mere boy; young people are always foolish and extravagant;" or, "He
+looks like a fanatic." But others said, "He looks like one whom we have
+been taught to honor. It will be best to tell him the matter in
+dispute."
+
+When he heard it, he smiled, and said, "It will be needful first to
+ascertain which of the nuts is soundest _within_." And with a hammer he
+broke one, two, and more of the English walnuts, and they were mouldy.
+Then he tried the other nuts, but found most of them fresh within and
+_white_, for they were fresh from the bosom of the earth, while the
+others had been kept in a damp cellar.
+
+And he said, "You had better plant them together, lest none, or few, of
+the walnuts be sound. And why are you so reluctant? Has not Heaven
+permitted them both to grow on the same soil? and does not that show
+what is intended about it?"
+
+And they said, "But they are black and ugly to look upon." He replied,
+"They do not seem so to me. What my Father has fashioned in such guise
+offends not mine eye."
+
+And they said, "But from one of these trees flew a bird of prey, who has
+done great wrong. We meant, therefore, to suffer no such tree among us."
+
+And he replied, "Amid the band of my countrymen and friends there was
+one guilty of the blackest crime--that of selling for a price the life
+of his dearest friend; yet all the others of his blood were not put
+under ban because of his guilt."
+
+Then they said, "But in the Holy Book our teachers tell us, we are bid
+to keep in exile or distress whatsoever is black and unseemly in our
+eyes."
+
+Then he put his hand to his brow, and cried in a voice of the most
+penetrating pathos, "Have I been so long among you, and ye have not
+known me?" And the woman turned from them the majestic hope of her
+glance, and both forms suddenly vanished; but the banner was left
+trailing in the dust.
+
+The men stood gazing at one another. After which one mounted on high,
+and said, "Perhaps, my friends, we carry too far this aversion to
+objects merely because they are black. I heard, the other day, a wise
+man say that black was the color of evil--marked as such by God, and
+that whenever a white man struck a black man he did an act of worship
+to God.[37] I could not quite believe him. I hope, in what I am about to
+add, I shall not be misunderstood. I am no abolitionist. I respect above
+all things, divine or human, the constitution framed by our forefathers,
+and the peculiar institutions hallowed by the usage of their sons. I
+have no sympathy with the black race in this country. I wish it to be
+understood that I feel towards negroes the purest personal antipathy. It
+is a family trait with us. My little son, scarce able to speak, will cry
+out, 'Nigger! Nigger!' whenever he sees one, and try to throw things at
+them. He made a whole omnibus load laugh the other day by his cunning
+way of doing this.[38] The child of my political antagonist, on the
+other hand, says 'he likes _tullared_ children the best.'[39] You see he
+is tainted in his cradle by the loose principles of his parents, even
+before he can say nigger, or pronounce the more refined appellation. But
+that is no matter. I merely mention this by the way; not to prejudice
+you against Mr.----, but that you may appreciate the very different
+state of things in my family, and not misinterpret what I have to say. I
+was lately in one of our prisons where a somewhat injudicious indulgence
+had extended to one of the condemned felons, a lost and wretched outcast
+from society, the use of materials for painting, that having been his
+profession. He had completed at his leisure a picture of the Lord's
+Supper. Most of the figures were well enough, but Judas he had
+represented as a black.[40] Now, gentlemen, I am of opinion that this is
+an unwarrantable liberty taken with the Holy Scriptures, and shows _too
+much_ prejudice in the community. It is my wish to be moderate and fair,
+and preserve a medium, neither, on the one hand, yielding the wholesome
+antipathies planted in our breasts as a safeguard against degradation,
+and our constitutional obligations, which, as I have before observed,
+are, with me, more binding than any other; nor, on the other hand,
+forgetting that liberality and wisdom which are the prerogative of every
+citizen of this free commonwealth. I agree, then, with our young
+visitor. I hardly know, indeed, why a stranger, and one so young, was
+permitted to mingle in this council; but it was certainly thoughtful in
+him to crack and examine the nuts. I agree that it may be well to plant
+some of the black nuts among the others, so that, if many of the walnuts
+fail, we may make use of this inferior tree."
+
+At this moment arose a hubbub, and such a clamor of "dangerous
+innovation," "political capital," "low-minded demagogue," "infidel who
+denies the Bible," "lower link in the chain of creation," &c., that it
+is impossible to say what was the decision.
+
+
+
+
+DISCOVERIES.
+
+
+Sometimes, as we meet people in the street, we catch a sentence from
+their lips that affords a clew to their history and habits of mind, and
+puts our own minds on quite a new course.
+
+Yesterday two female figures drew nigh upon the street, in whom we had
+only observed their tawdry, showy style of dress, when, as they passed,
+one remarked to the other, in the tone of a person who has just made a
+discovery, "_I_ think there is something very handsome in a fine child."
+
+Poor woman! that seemed to have been the first time in her life that she
+had made the observation. The charms of the human being, in that fresh
+and flower-like age which is intended perpetually to refresh us in our
+riper, renovate us in our declining years, had never touched her heart,
+nor awakened for her the myriad thoughts and fancies that as naturally
+attend the sight of childhood as bees swarm to the blossoming bough.
+Instead of being to her the little angels and fairies, the embodied
+poems which may ennoble the humblest lot, they had been to her mere
+"torments," who "could never be kept still, or their faces clean."
+
+How piteous is the loss of those who do not contemplate childhood in a
+spirit of holiness! The heavenly influence on their own minds, of
+attention to cultivate each germ of great and good qualities, of
+avoiding the least act likely to injure, is lost--a loss dreary and
+piteous! for which no gain can compensate. But how unspeakably
+deplorable the petrifaction of those who look upon their little friends
+without any sympathy even, whose hearts are, by selfishness,
+worldliness, and vanity, seared from all gentle instincts, who can no
+longer appreciate their spontaneous grace and glee, that eloquence in
+every look, motion, and stammered word, those lively and incessant
+charms, over which the action of the lower motives with which the social
+system is rife, may so soon draw a veil!
+
+We can no longer speak thus of _all_ children. On some, especially in
+cities, the inheritance of sin and deformity from bad parents falls too
+heavily, and incases at once the spark of soul which God still doth not
+refuse in such instances, in a careful, knowing, sensual mask. Such are
+never, in fact, children at all. But the rudest little cubs that are
+free from taint, and show the affinities with nature and the soul, are
+still young and flexible, and rich in gleams of the loveliness to be
+hoped from perfected human nature.
+
+It is sad that all men do not feel these things. It is sad that they
+wilfully renounce so large a part of their heritage, and go forth to buy
+filtered water, while the fountain is gushing freshly beside the door of
+their own huts. As with the charms of children, so with other things.
+They do not know that the sunset is worth seeing every night, and the
+shows of the forest better than those of the theatre, and the work of
+bees and beetles more instructive, if scanned with care, than the lyceum
+lecture. The cheap knowledge, the cheap pleasures, that are spread
+before every one, they cast aside in search of an uncertain and feverish
+joy. We did, indeed, hear one man say that he could not possibly be
+deprived of his pleasures, since he could always, even were his abode in
+the narrowest lane, have a blanket of sky above his head, where he could
+see the clouds pass, and the stars glitter. But men in general remain
+unaware that
+
+    "Life's best joys are nearest us,
+    Lie close about our feet."
+
+For them the light dresses all objects in endless novelty, the rose
+glows, domestic love smiles, and childhood gives out with sportive
+freedom its oracles--in vain. That woman had seen beauty in gay shawls,
+in teacups, in carpets; but only of late had she discovered that "there
+was something beautiful in a fine child." Poor human nature! Thou must
+have been changed at nurse by a bad demon at some time, and strangely
+maltreated,--to have such blind and rickety intervals as come upon thee
+now and then!
+
+
+
+
+POLITENESS TOO GREAT A LUXURY TO BE GIVEN TO THE POOR.
+
+
+A few days ago, a lady, crossing in one of the ferry boats that ply from
+this city, saw a young boy, poorly dressed, sitting with an infant in
+his arms on one of the benches. She observed that the child looked
+sickly and coughed. This, as the day was raw, made her anxious in its
+behalf, and she went to the boy and asked whether he was alone there
+with the baby, and if he did not think the cold breeze dangerous for it.
+He replied that he was sent out with the child to take care of it, and
+that his father said the fresh air from the water would do it good.
+
+While he made this simple answer, a number of persons had collected
+around to listen, and one of them, a well-dressed woman, addressed the
+boy in a string of such questions and remarks as these:--
+
+"What is your name? Where do you live? Are you telling us the truth?
+It's a shame to have that baby out in such weather; you'll be the death
+of it. (To the bystanders:) I would go and see his mother, and tell her
+about it, if I was sure he had told us the truth about where he lived.
+How do you expect to get back? Here, (in the rudest voice,) somebody
+says you have not told the truth as to where you live."
+
+The child, whose only offence consisted in taking care of the little one
+in public, and answering when he was spoken to, began to shed tears at
+the accusations thus grossly preferred against him. The bystanders
+stared at both; but among them all there was not one with sufficiently
+clear notions of propriety and moral energy to say to this impudent
+questioner "Woman, do you suppose, because you wear a handsome shawl,
+and that boy a patched jacket, that you have any right to speak to him
+at all, unless he wishes it--far less to prefer against him these rude
+accusations? Your vulgarity is unendurable; leave the place or alter
+your manner."
+
+Many such instances have we seen of insolent rudeness, or more insolent
+affability, founded on no apparent grounds, except an apparent
+difference in pecuniary position; for no one can suppose, in such cases,
+the offending party has really enjoyed the benefit of refined education
+and society, but all present let them pass as matters of course. It was
+sad to see how the poor would endure--mortifying to see how the
+purse-proud dared offend. An excellent man, who was, in his early years,
+a missionary to the poor, used to speak afterwards with great shame of
+the manner in which he had conducted himself towards them. "When I
+recollect," said he, "the freedom with which I entered their houses,
+inquired into all their affairs, commented on their conduct, and
+disputed their statements, I wonder I was never horsewhipped, and feel
+that I ought to have been; it would have done me good, for I needed as
+severe a lesson on the universal obligations of politeness in its only
+genuine form of respect for man as man, and delicate sympathy with each
+in his peculiar position."
+
+Charles Lamb, who was indeed worthy to be called a human being because
+of those refined sympathies, said, "You call him a gentleman: does his
+washerwoman find him so?" We may say, if she did, she found him a _man_,
+neither treating her with vulgar abruptness, nor giving himself airs of
+condescending liveliness, but treating her with that genuine respect
+which a feeling of equality inspires.
+
+To doubt the veracity of another is an insult which in most _civilized_
+communities must in the so-called higher classes be atoned for by blood,
+but, in those same communities, the same men will, with the utmost
+lightness, doubt the truth of one who wears a ragged coat, and thus do
+all they can to injure and degrade him by assailing his self-respect,
+and breaking the feeling of personal honor--a wound to which hurts a man
+as a wound to its bark does a tree.
+
+Then how rudely are favors conferred, just as a bone is thrown to a dog!
+A gentleman, indeed, will not do _that_ without accompanying signs of
+sympathy and regard. Just as this woman said, "If you have told the
+truth I will go and see your mother," are many acts performed on which
+the actors pride themselves as kind and charitable.
+
+All men might learn from the French in these matters. That people,
+whatever be their faults, are really well bred, and many acts might be
+quoted from their romantic annals, where gifts were given from rich to
+poor with a graceful courtesy, equally honorable and delightful to the
+giver and the receiver.
+
+In Catholic countries there is more courtesy, for charity is there a
+duty, and must be done for God's sake; there is less room for a man to
+give himself the pharisaical tone about it. A rich man is not so
+surprised to find himself in contact with a poor one; nor is the custom
+of kneeling on the open pavement, the silk robe close to the beggar's
+rags, without profit. The separation by pews, even on the day when all
+meet nearest, is as bad for the manners as the soul.
+
+Blessed be he, or she, who has passed through this world, not only with
+an open purse and willingness to render the aid of mere outward
+benefits, but with an open eye and open heart, ready to cheer the
+downcast, and enlighten the dull by words of comfort and looks of love.
+The wayside charities are the most valuable both as to sustaining hope
+and diffusing knowledge, and none can render them who has not an
+expansive nature, a heart alive to affection, and some true notion,
+however imperfectly developed, of the meaning of human brotherhood.
+
+Such a one can never sauce the given meat with taunts, freeze the viand
+by a cold glance of doubt, or plunge the man, who asked for his hand,
+deeper back into the mud by any kind of rudeness.
+
+In the little instance with which we began, no help _was_ asked, unless
+by the sight of the timid little boy's old jacket. But the license which
+this seemed to the well-clothed woman to give to rudeness, was so
+characteristic of a deep fault now existing, that a volume of comments
+might follow and a host of anecdotes be drawn from almost any one's
+experience in exposition of it. These few words, perhaps, may awaken
+thought in those who have drawn tears from other's eyes through an
+ignorance brutal, but not hopelessly so, if they are willing to rise
+above it.
+
+
+
+
+CASSIUS M. CLAY.
+
+
+The meeting on Monday night at the Tabernacle was to us an occasion of
+deep and peculiar interest. It was deep, for the feelings there
+expressed and answered bore witness to the truth of our belief, that the
+sense of right is not dead, but only sleepeth in this nation. A man who
+is manly enough to appeal to it, will be answered, in feeling at least,
+if not in action, and while there is life there is hope. Those who so
+rapturously welcomed one who had sealed his faith by deeds of devotion,
+must yet acknowledge in their breasts the germs of like nobleness.
+
+It was an occasion of peculiar interest, such as we have not had
+occasion to feel since, in childish years, we saw Lafayette welcomed by
+a grateful people. Even childhood well understood that the gratitude
+then expressed was not so much for the aid which had been received as
+for the motives and feelings with which it was given. The nation rushed
+out as one man to thank Lafayette, that he had been able, amid the
+prejudices and indulgences of high rank in the old _regime_ of society,
+to understand the great principles which were about to create a new
+form, and answer, manlike, with love, service, and contempt of selfish
+interests to the voice of humanity demanding its rights. Our freedom
+would have been achieved without Lafayette; but it was a happiness and a
+blessing to number the young French nobleman as the champion of American
+independence, and to know that he had given the prime of his life to our
+cause, because it was the cause of justice. With similar feelings of
+joy, pride, and hope, we welcome Cassius M. Clay, a man who has, in like
+manner, freed himself from the prejudices of his position, disregarded
+selfish considerations, and quitting the easy path in which he might
+have walked to station in the sight of men, and such external
+distinctions as his State and nation readily confer on men so born and
+bred, and with such abilities, chose rather an interest in their souls,
+and the honors history will not fail to award to the man who enrolls his
+name and elevates his life for the cause of right and those universal
+principles whose recognition can alone secure to man the destiny without
+which he cannot be happy, but which he is continually sacrificing for
+the impure worship of idols. Yea, in this country, more than in the old
+Palestine, do they give their children to the fire in honor of Moloch,
+and sell the ark confided to them by the Most High for shekels of gold
+and of silver. Partly it was the sense of this position which Mr. Clay
+holds, as a man who esteems his own individual convictions of right more
+than local interests or partial, political schemes, that gave him such
+an enthusiastic welcome on Monday night from the very hearts of the
+audience, but still more that his honor is at this moment identified
+with the liberty of the press, which has been insulted and infringed in
+him. About this there can be in fact but one opinion. In vain Kentucky
+calls meetings, states reasons, gives names of her own to what has been
+done.[41] The rest of the world knows very well what the action is, and
+will call it by but one name. Regardless of this ostrich mode of
+defence, the world has laughed and scoffed at the act of a people
+professing to be free and defenders of freedom, and the recording angel
+has written down the deed as a lawless act of violence and tyranny, from
+which the man is happy who can call himself pure.
+
+With the usual rhetoric of the wrong side, the apologists for this mob
+violence have wished to injure Mr. Clay by the epithets of "hot-headed,"
+"visionary," "fanatical." But, if any have believed that such could
+apply to a man so clear-sighted as to his objects and the way of
+achieving them, the mistake must have been corrected on Monday night.
+Whoever saw Mr. Clay that night, saw in him a man of deep and strong
+nature, thoroughly in earnest, who had well considered his ground, and
+saw that though open, as the truly _noble_ must be, to new views and
+convictions, yet his direction is taken, and the improvement to be made
+will not be to turn aside, but to expedite and widen his course in that
+direction. Mr. Clay is young, young enough, thank Heaven! to promise a
+long career of great thoughts and honorable deeds. But still, to those
+who esteem youth an unpardonable fault, and one that renders incapable
+of counsel, we would say that he is at the age when a man is capable of
+great thoughts and great deeds, if ever. His is not a character that
+will ever grow old; it is not capable of a petty and short-sighted
+prudence, but can only be guided by a large wisdom which is more young
+than old, for it has within itself the springs of perpetual youth, and
+which, being far-sighted and prophetical, joins ever with the progress
+party without waiting till it be obviously in the ascendant.
+
+Mr. Clay has eloquence, but only from the soul. He does not possess the
+art of oratory, as an art. Before he gets warmed he is too slow, and
+breaks his sentences too much. His transitions are not made with skill,
+nor is the structure of his speech, as a whole, symmetrical; yet,
+throughout, his grasp is firm upon his subject, and all the words are
+laden with the electricity of a strong mind and generous nature. When he
+begins to glow, and his deep mellow eye fills with light, the speech
+melts and glows too, and he is able to impress upon the hearer the full
+effect of firm conviction, conceived with impassioned energy. His often
+rugged and harsh emphasis flashes and sparkles then, and we feel that
+there is in the furnace a stream of iron: iron, fortress of the nations
+and victor of the seas, worth far more, in stress of storm, than all the
+gold and gems of rhetoric.
+
+The great principle that he who wrongs one wrongs all, and that no part
+can be wounded without endangering the whole, was the healthy root of
+Mr. Clay's speech. The report does not do justice to the turn of
+expression in some parts which were most characteristic. These, indeed,
+depended much on the tones and looks of the speaker. We should speak of
+them as full of a robust and homely sincerity, dignified by the heart of
+the gentleman, a heart too secure of its respect for the rights of
+others to need any of the usual interpositions. His good-humored
+sarcasm, on occasion of several vulgar interruptions, was very pleasant,
+and easily at those times might be recognized in him the man of heroical
+nature, who can only show himself adequately in time of interruption and
+of obstacle. If that be all that is wanted, we shall surely see him
+wholly; there will be no lack of American occasions to call out the
+Greek fire. We want them all--the Grecian men, who feel a godlike thirst
+for immortal glory, and to develop the peculiar powers with which the
+gods have gifted them. We want them all--the poet, the thinker, the
+hero. Whether our heroes need _swords_, is a more doubtful point, we
+think, than Mr. Clay believes. Neither do we believe in some of the
+means he proposes to further his aims. God uses all kinds of means, but
+men, his priests, must keep their hands pure. Nobody that needs a bribe
+shall be asked to further our schemes for emancipation. But there is
+room enough and time enough to think out these points till all is in
+harmony. For the good that has been done and the truth that has been
+spoken, for the love of such that has been seen in this great city
+struggling up through the love of money, we should to-day be
+thankful--and we are so.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAGNOLIA OF LAKE PONTCHARTRAIN.
+
+
+The stars tell all their secrets to the flowers, and, if we only knew
+how to look around us, we should not need to look above. But man is a
+plant of slow growth, and great heat is required to bring out his
+leaves. He must be promised a boundless futurity, to induce him to use
+aright the present hour. In youth, fixing his eyes on those distant
+worlds of light, he promises himself to attain them, and there find the
+answer to all his wishes. His eye grows keener as he gazes, a voice from
+the earth calls it downward, and he finds all at his feet.
+
+I was riding on the shore of Lake Pontchartrain, musing on an old
+English expression, which I had only lately learned to interpret. "He
+was fulfilled of all nobleness." Words so significant charm us like a
+spell, long before we know their meaning. This I had now learned to
+interpret. Life had ripened from the green bud, and I had seen the
+difference, wide as from earth to heaven, between nobleness and the
+_fulfilment_ of nobleness.
+
+A fragrance beyond any thing I had ever known came suddenly upon the
+air, and interrupted my meditation. I looked around me, but saw no
+flower from which it could proceed. There is no word for it; _exquisite_
+and _delicious_ have lost all meaning now. It was of a full and
+penetrating sweetness, too keen and delicate to be cloying. Unable to
+trace it, I rode on, but the remembrance of it pursued me. I had a
+feeling that I must forever regret my loss, my want, if I did not return
+and find the poet of the lake, whose voice was such perfume. In earlier
+days, I might have disregarded such a feeling; but now I have learned
+to prize the monitions of my nature as they deserve, and learn sometimes
+what is not for sale in the market place. So I turned back, and rode to
+and fro, at the risk of abandoning the object of my ride.
+
+I found her at last, the queen of the south, singing to herself in her
+lonely bower. Such should a sovereign be, most regal when alone; for
+then there is no disturbance to prevent the full consciousness of power.
+All occasions limit; a kingdom is but an occasion; and no sun ever saw
+itself adequately reflected on sea or land.
+
+Nothing at the south had affected me like the magnolia. Sickness and
+sorrow, which have separated me from my kind, have requited my loss by
+making known to me the loveliest dialect of the divine language.
+"Flowers," it has been truly said, "are the only positive present made
+us by nature." Man has not been ungrateful, but consecrated the gift to
+adorn the darkest and brightest hours. If it is ever perverted, it is to
+be used as a medicine; and even this vexes me. But no matter for that.
+We have pure intercourse with these purest creations; we love them for
+their own sake, for their beauty's sake. As we grow beautiful and pure,
+we understand them better. With me knowledge of them is a circumstance,
+a habit of my life, rather than a merit. I have lived with them, and
+with them almost alone, till I have learned to interpret the slightest
+signs by which they manifest their fair thoughts. There is not a flower
+in my native region which has not for me a tale, to which every year is
+adding new incidents; yet the growths of this new climate brought me new
+and sweet emotions, and, above all others, was the magnolia a
+revelation. When I first beheld her, a stately tower of verdure, each
+cup, an imperial vestal, full-displayed to the eye of day, yet guarded
+from the too hasty touch even of the wind by its graceful decorums of
+firm, glistening, broad, green leaves, I stood astonished, as might a
+lover of music, who, after hearing in all his youth only the harp or
+the bugle, should be saluted, on entering some vast cathedral, by the
+full peal of its organ.
+
+After I had recovered from my first surprise, I became acquainted with
+the flower, and found all its life in harmony. Its fragrance, less
+enchanting than that of the rose, excited a pleasure more full of life,
+and which could longer be enjoyed without satiety. Its blossoms, if
+plucked from their home, refused to retain their dazzling hue, but
+drooped and grew sallow, like princesses captive in the prison of a
+barbarous foe.
+
+But there was something quite peculiar in the fragrance of this tree; so
+much so, that I had not at first recognized the magnolia. Thinking it
+must be of a species I had never yet seen, I alighted, and leaving my
+horse, drew near to question it with eyes of reverent love.
+
+"Be not surprised," replied those lips of untouched purity, "stranger,
+who alone hast known to hear in my voice a tone more deep and full than
+that of my beautiful sisters. Sit down, and listen to my tale, nor fear
+that I will overpower thee by too much sweetness. I am, indeed, of the
+race you love, but in it I stand alone. In my family I have no sister of
+the heart, and though my root is the same as that of the other virgins
+of our royal house, I bear not the same blossom, nor can I unite my
+voice with theirs in the forest choir. Therefore I dwell here alone, nor
+did I ever expect to tell the secret of my loneliness. But to all that
+ask there is an answer, and I speak to thee.
+
+"Indeed, we have met before, as that secret feeling of home, which makes
+delight so tender, must inform thee. The spirit that I utter once
+inhabited the glory of the most glorious climates. I dwelt once in the
+orange tree."
+
+"Ah?" said I; "then I did not mistake. It is the same voice I heard in
+the saddest season of my youth. I stood one evening on a high terrace in
+another land, the land where 'the plant man has grown to greatest size.'
+It was an evening whose unrivalled splendor demanded perfection in
+man--answering to that he found in nature--a sky 'black-blue' deep as
+eternity, stars of holiest hope, a breeze promising rapture in every
+breath. I could not longer endure this discord between myself and such
+beauty; I retired within my window, and lit the lamp. Its rays fell on
+an orange tree, full clad in its golden fruit and bridal blossoms. How
+did we talk together then, fairest friend! Thou didst tell me all; and
+yet thou knowest, that even then, had I asked any part of thy dower, it
+would have been to bear the sweet fruit, rather than the sweeter
+blossoms. My wish had been expressed by another.
+
+    'O, that I were an orange tree,
+          That busy plant!
+    Then should I ever laden he,
+          And never want
+    Some fruit for him that dresseth me.'
+
+Thou didst seem to me the happiest of all spirits in wealth of nature,
+in fulness of utterance. How is it that I find thee now in another
+habitation?"
+
+"How is it, man, that thou art now content that thy life bears no golden
+fruit?"
+
+"It is," I replied, "that I have at last, through privation, been
+initiated into the secret of peace. Blighted without, unable to find
+myself in other forms of nature, I was driven back upon the centre of my
+being, and there found all being. For the wise, the obedient child from
+one point can draw all lines, and in one germ read all the possible
+disclosures of successive life."
+
+"Even so," replied the flower, "and ever for that reason am I trying to
+simplify my being. How happy I was in the 'spirit's dower when first it
+was wed,' I told thee in that earlier day. But after a while I grew
+weary of that fulness of speech; I felt a shame at telling all I knew,
+and challenging all sympathies; I was never silent, I was never alone;
+I had a voice for every season, for day and night; on me the merchant
+counted, the bride looked to me for her garland, the nobleman for the
+chief ornament of his princely hair, and the poor man for his wealth;
+all sang my praises, all extolled my beauty, all blessed my beneficence;
+and, for a while, my heart swelled with pride and pleasure. But, as
+years passed, my mood changed. The lonely moon rebuked me, as she hid
+from the wishes of man, nor would return till her due change was passed.
+The inaccessible sun looked on me with the same ray as on all others; my
+endless profusion could not bribe him to one smile sacred to me alone.
+The mysterious wind passed me by to tell its secret to the solemn pine,
+and the nightingale sang to the rose rather than me, though she was
+often silent, and buried herself yearly in the dark earth.
+
+"I knew no mine or thine: I belonged to all. I could never rest: I was
+never at one. Painfully I felt this want, and from every blossom sighed
+entreaties for some being to come and satisfy it. With every bud I
+implored an answer, but each bud only produced an orange.
+
+"At last this feeling grew more painful, and thrilled my very root. The
+earth trembled at the touch with a pulse so sympathetic that ever and
+anon it seemed, could I but retire and hide in that silent bosom for one
+calm winter, all would be told me, and tranquillity, deep as my desire,
+be mine. But the law of my being was on me, and man and nature seconded
+it. Ceaselessly they called on me for my beautiful gifts; they decked
+themselves with them, nor cared to know the saddened heart of the giver.
+O, how cruel they seemed at last, as they visited and despoiled me, yet
+never sought to aid me, or even paused to think that I might need their
+aid! yet I would not hate them. I saw it was my seeming riches that
+bereft me of sympathy. I saw they could not know what was hid beneath
+the perpetual veil of glowing life. I ceased to expect aught from them,
+and turned my eyes to the distant stars. I thought, could I but hoard
+from the daily expenditure of my juices till I grew tall enough, I might
+reach those distant spheres, which looked so silent and consecrated,
+and there pause a while from these weary joys of endless life, and in
+the lap of winter find my spring.
+
+"But not so was my hope to be fulfilled. One starlight night I was
+looking, hoping, when a sudden breeze came up. It touched me, I thought,
+as if it were a cold, white beam from those stranger worlds. The cold
+gained upon my heart; every blossom trembled, every leaf grew brittle,
+and the fruit began to seem unconnected with the stem; soon I lost all
+feeling; and morning found the pride of the garden black, stiff, and
+powerless.
+
+"As the rays of the morning sun touched me, consciousness returned, and
+I strove to speak, but in vain. Sealed were my fountains, and all my
+heartbeats still. I felt that I had been that beauteous tree, but now
+only was--what--I knew not; yet I was, and the voices of men said, It is
+dead; cast it forth, and plant another in the costly vase. A mystic
+shudder of pale joy then separated me wholly from my former abode.
+
+"A moment more, and I was before the queen and guardian of the flowers.
+Of this being I cannot speak to thee in any language now possible
+betwixt us; for this is a being of another order from thee, an order
+whose presence thou mayst feel, nay, approach step by step, but which
+cannot be known till thou art of it, nor seen nor spoken of till thou
+hast passed through it.
+
+"Suffice it to say, that it is not such a being as men love to paint; a
+fairy, like them, only lesser and more exquisite than they; a goddess,
+larger and of statelier proportion; an angel, like still, only with an
+added power. Man never creates; he only recombines the lines and colors
+of his own existence: only a deific fancy could evolve from the elements
+the form that took me home.
+
+"Secret, radiant, profound ever, and never to be known, was she; many
+forms indicate, and none declare her. Like all such beings, she was
+feminine. All the secret powers are "mothers." There is but one paternal
+power.
+
+"She had heard my wish while I looked at the stars, and in the silence
+of fate prepared its fulfilment. 'Child of my most communicative hour,'
+said she, 'the full pause must not follow such a burst of melody. Obey
+the gradations of nature, nor seek to retire at once into her utmost
+purity of silence. The vehemence of thy desire at once promises and
+forbids its gratification. Thou wert the keystone of the arch, and bound
+together the circling year: thou canst not at once become the base of
+the arch, the centre of the circle. Take a step inward, forget a voice,
+lose a power; no longer a bounteous sovereign, become a vestal
+priestess, and bide thy time in the magnolia.'
+
+"Such is my history, friend of my earlier day. Others of my family, that
+you have met, were formerly the religious lily, the lonely dahlia,
+fearless decking the cold autumn, and answering the shortest visits of
+the sun with the brightest hues; the narcissus, so rapt in
+self-contemplation that it could not abide the usual changes of a life.
+Some of these have perfume, others not, according to the habit of their
+earlier state; for, as spirits change, they still bear some trace, a
+faint reminder, of their latest step upwards or inwards. I still speak
+with somewhat of my former exuberance and over-ready tenderness to the
+dwellers on this shore; but each star sees me purer, of deeper thought,
+and more capable of retirement into my own heart. Nor shall I again
+detain a wanderer, luring him from afar; nor shall I again subject
+myself to be questioned by an alien spirit, to tell the tale of my being
+in words that divide it from itself. Farewell, stranger! and believe
+that nothing strange can meet me more. I have atoned by confession;
+further penance needs not; and I feel the Infinite possess me more and
+more. Farewell! to meet again in prayer, in destiny, in harmony, in
+elemental power."
+
+The magnolia left me; I left not her, but must abide forever in the
+thought to which the clew was found in the margin of that lake of the
+South.
+
+
+
+
+CONSECRATION OF GRACE CHURCH.
+
+
+Whoever passes up Broadway finds his attention arrested by three fine
+structures--Trinity Church, that of the Messiah, and Grace Church.
+
+His impressions are, probably, at first, of a pleasant character. He
+looks upon these edifices as expressions, which, however inferior in
+grandeur to the poems in stone which adorn the older world, surely
+indicate that man cannot rest content with his short earthly span, but
+prizes relations to eternity. The house in which he pays deference to
+claims which death will not cancel seems to be no less important in his
+eyes than those in which the affairs which press nearest are attended
+to.
+
+So far, so good! That is expressed which gives man his superiority over
+the other orders of the natural world, that consciousness of spiritual
+affinities of which we see no unequivocal signs elsewhere.
+
+But, if this be something great when compared with the rest of the
+animal creation, yet how little seems it when compared with the ideal
+that has been offered to him, as to the means of signifying such
+feelings! These temples! how far do they correspond with the idea of
+that religious sentiment from which they originally sprung? In the old
+world the history of such edifices, though not without its shadow, had
+many bright lines. Kings and emperors paid oftentimes for the materials
+and labor a price of blood and plunder, and many a wretched sinner
+sought by contributions of stone for their walls to roll off the burden
+he had laid on his conscience. Still the community amid which they rose
+knew little of these drawbacks. Pious legends attest the purity of
+feeling associated with each circumstance of their building. Mysterious
+orders, of which we know only that they were consecrated to brotherly
+love and the development of mind, produced the genius which animated the
+architecture; but the casting of the bells and suspending them in the
+tower was an act in which all orders of the community took part; for
+when those cathedrals were consecrated, it was for the use of all. Rich
+and poor knelt together upon their marble pavements, and the imperial
+altar welcomed the obscurest artisan.
+
+This grace our churches want--the grace which belongs to all religions,
+but is peculiarly and solemnly enforced upon the followers of Jesus. The
+poor to whom he came to preach can have no share in the grace of Grace
+Church. In St. Peter's, if only as an empty form, the soiled feet of
+travel-worn disciples are washed; but such feet can never intrude on the
+fane of the holy Trinity here in republican America, and the Messiah may
+be supposed still to give as excuse for delay, "The poor you always have
+with you."
+
+We must confess this circumstance is to us quite destructive of
+reverence and value for these buildings.
+
+We are told, that at the late consecration, the claims of the poor were
+eloquently urged; and that an effort is to be made, by giving a side
+chapel, to atone for the luxury which shuts them out from the reflection
+of sunshine through those brilliant windows. It is certainly better that
+they should be offered the crumbs from the rich man's table than nothing
+at all, yet it is surely not _the_ way that Jesus would have taught to
+provide for the poor.
+
+Would we not then have these splendid edifices erected? We certainly
+feel that the educational influence of good specimens of architecture
+(and we know no other argument in their favor) is far from being a
+counterpoise to the abstraction of so much money from purposes that
+would be more in fulfilment of that Christian idea which these assume to
+represent Were the rich to build such a church, and, dispensing with
+pews and all exclusive advantages, invite all who would to come in to
+the banquet, that were, indeed, noble and Christian. And, though we
+believe more, for our nation and time, in intellectual monuments than
+those of wood and stone, and, in opposition even to our admired Powers,
+think that Michael Angelo himself could have advised no more suitable
+monument to Washington than a house devoted to the instruction of the
+people, and think that great master, and the Greeks no less, would agree
+with us if they lived now to survey all the bearings of the subject, yet
+we would not object to these splendid churches, if the idea of Him they
+call Master were represented in them. But till it is, they can do no
+good, for the means are not in harmony with the end. The rich man sits
+in state while "near two hundred thousand" Lazaruses linger, unprovided
+for, without the gate. While this is so, they must not talk much,
+within, of Jesus of Nazareth, who called to him fishermen, laborers, and
+artisans, for his companions and disciples.
+
+We find some excellent remarks on this subject from Rev. Stephen Olin,
+president of the Wesleyan University. They are appended as a note to a
+discourse addressed to young men, on the text, "Put ye on the Lord Jesus
+Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts
+thereof."
+
+This discourse, though it discloses formal and external views of
+religions ties and obligations, is dignified by a fervent, generous love
+for men, and a more than commonly catholic liberality; and though these
+remarks are made and meant to bear upon the interests of his own sect,
+yet they are anti-sectarian in their tendency, and worthy the
+consideration of all anxious to understand the call of duty in these
+matters. Earnest attention of this sort will better avail than fifteen
+hundred dollars, or more, paid for a post of exhibition in a fashionable
+church, where, if piety be provided with one chance, worldliness has
+twenty to stare it out of countenance.
+
+"The strong tendency in our religious operations to gather the rich and
+the poor into separate folds, and so to generate and establish in the
+church distinctions utterly at variance with the spirit of our political
+institutions, is the very worst result of the multiplication of sects
+among us; and I fear it must be admitted that the evil is greatly
+aggravated by the otherwise benignant working of the voluntary system.
+Without insisting further upon the probable or possible injury which may
+befall our free country from this conflict of agencies, ever the most
+powerful in the formation of national and individual character, no one,
+I am sure, can fail to recognize in this development an influence
+utterly and irreconcilably hostile to the genius and cherished objects
+of Christianity. It is the peculiar glory of the gospel that, even under
+the most arbitrary governments, it has usually been able to vindicate
+and practically exemplify the essential equality of man. It has had one
+doctrine and one hope for all its children; and the highest and the
+lowest have been constrained to acknowledge one holy law of brotherhood
+in the common faith of which they are made partakers. Nowhere else, I
+believe, but in the United States--certainly nowhere else to the same
+extent--does this anti-Christian separation of classes prevail in the
+Christian church. The beggar in his tattered vestments walks the
+splendid courts of St. Peter's, and kneels at its costly altars by the
+side of dukes and cardinals. The peasant in his wooden shoes is welcomed
+in the gorgeous churches of Notre Dame and the Madeleine; and even in
+England, where political and social distinctions are more rigorously
+enforced than in any other country on earth, the lord and the peasant,
+the richest and the poorest, are usually occupants of the same church,
+and partakers of the same communion. That the reverse of all this is
+true in many parts of this country, every observing man knows full well;
+and what is yet more deplorable, while the lines of demarcation between
+the different classes have already become sufficiently distinct, the
+tendency is receiving new strength and development in a rapidly
+augmenting ratio. Even in country places, where the population is
+sparse, and the artificial distinctions of society are little known, the
+working of this strange element is, in many instances, made manifest,
+and a petty coterie of village magnates may be found worshipping God
+apart from the body of the people. But the evil is much more apparent,
+as well as more deeply seated, in our populous towns, where the causes
+which produce it have been longer in operation, and have more fully
+enjoyed the favor of circumstances. In these great centres of wealth,
+intelligence, and influence, the separation between the classes is, in
+many instances, complete, and in many more the process is rapidly
+progressive.
+
+"There are crowded religious congregations composed so exclusively of
+the wealthy as scarcely to embrace an indigent family or individual; and
+the number of such churches, where the gospel is never preached to the
+poor, is constantly increasing. Rich men, instead of associating
+themselves with their more humble fellow-Christians, where their money
+as well as their influence and counsels are so much needed, usually
+combine to erect magnificent churches, in which sittings are too
+expensive for any but people of fortune, and from which their
+less-favored brethren are as effectually and peremptorily excluded as if
+there were dishonor or contagion in their presence. A congregation is
+thus constituted, able, without the slightest inconvenience, to bear the
+pecuniary burdens of twenty churches, monopolizing and consigning to
+comparative inactivity intellectual, moral, and material resources, for
+want of which so many other congregations are doomed to struggle with
+the most embarrassing difficulties. Can it for a moment be thought that
+such a state of things is desirable, or in harmony with the spirit and
+design of the gospel?
+
+"A more difficult question arises when we inquire after a remedy for
+evils too glaring to be overlooked, and too grave to be tolerated,
+without an effort to palliate, if not to remove them. The most obvious
+palliative, and one which has already been tried to some extent by
+wealthy churches or individuals, is the erection of free places of
+worship for the poor. Such a provision for this class of persons would
+be more effectual in any other part of the world than in the United
+States. Whether it arises from the operation of our political system, or
+from the easy attainment of at least the prime necessaries of life, the
+poorer classes here are characterized by a proud spirit, which will not
+submit to receive even the highest benefits in any form that implies
+inferiority or dependence. This strong and prevalent feeling must
+continue to interpose serious obstacles in the way of these laudable
+attempts. If in a few instances churches for the poor have succeeded in
+our large cities, where the theory of social equality is so imperfectly
+realized in the actual condition of the people, and where the presence
+of a multitude of indigent foreigners tends to lower the sentiment of
+independence so strong in native-born Americans, the system is yet
+manifestly incapable of general application to the religious wants of
+our population. The same difficulty usually occurs in all attempts to
+induce the humbler classes to worship with the rich in sumptuous
+churches, by reserving for their benefit a portion of the sittings free,
+or at a nominal rent. A few only can be found who are willing to be
+recognized and provided for as beneficiaries and paupers, while the
+multitude will always prefer to make great sacrifices in order to
+provide for themselves in some humbler fane. It must be admitted that
+this subject is beset with practical difficulties, which are not likely
+to be removed speedily, or without some great and improbable revolution
+in our religious affairs. Yet if the respectable Christian denominations
+most concerned in the subject shall pursue a wise and liberal policy for
+the future, something may be done to check the evil. They may retard its
+rapid growth, perhaps, though it will most likely be found impossible to
+eradicate it altogether. It ought to be well understood, that the
+multiplication of magnificent churches is daily making the line of
+demarcation between the rich and the poor more and more palpable and
+impassable. There are many good reasons for the erection of such
+edifices. Increasing wealth and civilization seem to call for a liberal
+and tasteful outlay in behalf of religion; yet is it the dictate of
+prudence no less than of duty to balance carefully the good and the evil
+of every enterprise. It should ever be kept in mind, that such a church
+virtually writes above its sculptured portals an irrevocable prohibition
+to the poor--'_Procul, O procul este profani_.'"
+
+
+
+
+LATE ASPIRATIONS.
+
+LETTER TO H----.
+
+
+You have put to me that case which puzzles more than almost any in this
+strange world--the case of a man of good intentions, with natural powers
+sufficient to carry them out, who, after having through great part of a
+life lived the best he knew, and, in the world's eye, lived admirably
+well, suddenly wakes to a consciousness of the soul's true aims. He
+finds that he has been a good son, husband, and father, an adroit man of
+business, respected by all around him, without ever having advanced one
+step in the life of the soul. His object has not been the development of
+his immortal being, nor has this been developed; all he has done bears
+upon the present life only, and even that in a way poor and limited,
+since no deep fountain of intellect or feeling has ever been unsealed
+for him. Now that his eyes are opened, he sees what communion is
+possible; what incorruptible riches may be accumulated by the man of
+true wisdom. But why is the hour of clear vision so late deferred? He
+cannot blame himself for his previous blindness. His eyes were holden
+that he saw not. He lived as well as he knew how.
+
+And now that he would fain give himself up to the new oracle in his
+bosom, and to the inspirations of nature, all his old habits, all his
+previous connections, are unpropitious. He is bound by a thousand chains
+which press on him so as to leave no moment free. And perhaps it seems
+to him that, were he free, he should but feel the more forlorn. He sees
+the charm and nobleness of this new life, but knows not how to live it.
+It is an element to which his mental frame has not been trained. He
+knows not what to do to-day or to-morrow; how to stay by himself, or how
+to meet others; how to act, or how to rest. Looking on others who chose
+the path which now invites him at an age when their characters were yet
+plastic, and the world more freely opened before them, he deems them
+favored children, and cries in almost despairing sadness, Why, O Father
+of Spirits, didst thou not earlier enlighten me also? Why was I not led
+gently by the hand in the days of my youth? "And what," you ask, "could
+I reply?"
+
+Much, much, dear H----, were this a friend whom I could see so often
+that his circumstances would be my text. For no subject has more engaged
+my thoughts, no difficulty is more frequently met. But now on this poor
+sheet I can only give you the clew to what I should say.
+
+In the first place, the depth of the despair must be caused by the
+mistaken idea that this our present life is all the time allotted to man
+for the education of his nature for that state of consummation which is
+called heaven. Were it seen that this present is only one little link in
+the long chain of probations; were it felt that the Divine Justice is
+pledged to give the aspirations of the soul all the time they require
+for their fulfilment; were it recognized that disease, old age, and
+death are circumstances which can never touch the eternal youth of the
+spirit; that though the "plant man" grows more or less fair in hue and
+stature, according to the soil in which it is planted, yet the
+principle, which is the life of the plant, will not be defeated, but
+must scatter its seeds again and again, till it does at last come to
+perfect flower,--then would he, who is pausing to despair, realize that
+a new choice can never be too late, that false steps made in ignorance
+can never be counted by the All-Wise, and that, though a moment's delay
+against conviction is of incalculable weight the mistakes of forty
+years are but as dust on the balance held by an unerring hand. Despair
+is for time, hope for eternity.
+
+Then he who looks at all at the working of the grand principle of
+compensation which holds all nature in equipoise, cannot long remain a
+stranger to the meaning of the beautiful parable of the prodigal son,
+and the joy over finding the one lost piece of silver. It is no
+arbitrary kindness, no generosity of the ruling powers, which causes
+that there be more joy in heaven over the one that returns, than over
+ninety and nine that never strayed. It is the inevitable working of a
+spiritual law that he who has been groping in darkness must feel the
+light most keenly, best know how to prize it--he who has long been
+exiled from the truth seize it with the most earnest grasp, live in it
+with the deepest joy. It was after descending to the very pit of sorrow,
+that our Elder Brother was permitted to ascend to the Father, who
+perchance said to the angels who had dwelt always about the throne, Ye
+are always with me, and all that I have is yours; but this is my Son; he
+has been into a far country, but could not there abide, and has
+returned. But if any one say, "I know not how to return," I should still
+use words from the same record: "Let him arise and go to his Father."
+Let him put his soul into that state of simple, fervent desire for truth
+alone, truth for its own sake, which is prayer, and not only the sight
+of truth, but the way to make it living, shall be shown. Obstacles,
+insuperable to the intellect of any adviser, shall melt away like
+frostwork before a ray from the celestial sun. The Father may hide his
+face for a time, till the earnestness of the suppliant child be proved;
+but he is not far from any that seek, and when he does resolve to make a
+revelation, will show not only the _what_, but the _how_; and none else
+can advise or aid the seeking soul, except by just observation on some
+matter of detail.
+
+In this path, as in the downward one, must there be the first step that
+decides the whole--one sacrifice of the temporal for the eternal day is
+the grain of mustard seed which may give birth to a tree large enough to
+make a home for the sweetest singing birds. One moment of deep truth in
+life, of choosing not merely honesty, but purity, may leaven the whole
+mass.
+
+
+
+
+FRAGMENTARY THOUGHTS FROM MARGARET FULLER'S JOURNAL.
+
+    I gave the world the fruit of earlier hours:
+    O Solitude! reward me with some flowers;
+    Or if their odorous bloom thou dost deny,
+    Rain down some meteors from the winter sky!
+
+
+_Poesy._--The expression of the sublime and beautiful, whether in
+measured words or in the fine arts. The human mind, apprehending the
+harmony of the universe, and making new combinations by its laws.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Poetry._--The sublime and beautiful expressed in measured language. It
+is closely allied with the fine arts. It should sing to the ear, paint
+to the eye, and exhibit the symmetry of architecture. If perfect, it
+will satisfy the intellectual and moral faculties no less than the heart
+and the senses. It works chiefly by simile and melody. It is to prose as
+the garden to the house. Pleasure is the object of the one, convenience
+of the other. The flowers and fruits may be copied on the furniture of
+the house, but if their beauty be not subordinated to utility, they lose
+the charm of beauty, and degenerate into finery. The reverse is the case
+in the garden.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Nature._--I would praise alike the soft gray and brown which soothed my
+eye erewhile, and the snowy fretwork which now decks the forest aisles.
+Every ripple in the snowy fields, every grass and fern which raises its
+petrified delicacy above them, seems to me to claim a voice. A voice!
+Canst thou not silently adore, but must needs be doing? Art thou too
+good to wait as a beggar at the door of the great temple?
+
+_Woman--Man._--Woman is the flower, man the bee. She sighs out melodious
+fragrance, and invites the winged laborer. He drains her cup, and
+carries off the honey. She dies on the stalk; he returns to the hive,
+well fed, and praised as an active member of the community.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Action symbolical of what is within._--Goethe says, "I have learned
+to consider all I do as symbolical,--so that it now matters little to me
+whether I make plates or dishes." And further, he says, "All manly
+effort goes from within outwards."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Opportunity fleeting._--I held in my hand the cup. It was full of hot
+liquid. The air was cold; I delayed to drink, and its vital heat, its
+soul, curled upwards in delicatest wreaths. I looked delighted on their
+beauty; but while I waited, the essence of the draught was wasted on the
+cold air: it would not wait for me; it longed too much to utter itself:
+and when my lip was ready, only a flat, worthless sediment remained of
+what had been.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Mingling of the heavenly with the earthly._--The son of the gods has
+sold his birthright. He has received in exchange one, not merely the
+fairest, but the sweetest and holiest of earth's daughters. Yet is it
+not a fit exchange. His pinions droop powerless; he must no longer soar
+amid the golden stars. No matter, he thinks; "I will take her to some
+green and flowery isle; I will pay the penalty of Adam for the sake of
+the daughter of Eve; I will make the earth fruitful by the sweat of my
+brow. No longer my hands shall bear the coal to the lips of the inspired
+singer--no longer my voice modulate its tones to the accompaniment of
+spheral harmonies. My hands now lift the clod of the valley which dares
+cling to them with brotherly familiarity. And for my soiling, dreary
+task-work all the day, I receive--food.
+
+"But the smile with which she receives me at set of sun, is it not worth
+all that sun has seen me endure? Can angelic delights surpass those
+which I possess, when, facing the shore with her, watched by the quiet
+moon, we listen to the tide of the world surging up impatiently against
+the Eden it cannot conquer? Truly the joys of heaven were gregarious and
+low in comparison. This, this alone, is exquisite, because exclusive and
+peculiar."
+
+Ah, seraph! but the winter's frost must nip thy vine; a viper lurks
+beneath the flowers to sting the foot of thy child, and pale decay must
+steal over the cheek thou dost adore. In the realm of ideas all was
+imperishable. Be blest while thou canst. I love thee, fallen seraph, but
+thou shouldst not have sold thy birthright.
+
+"All for love and the world well lost." That sounds so true! But genius,
+when it sells itself, gives up, not only the world, but the universe.
+
+Yet does not love comprehend the universe? The universe is love. Why
+should I weary my eye with scanning the parts, when I can clasp the
+whole this moment to my beating heart?
+
+But if the intellect be repressed, the idea will never be brought out
+from the feeling. The amaranth wreath will in thy grasp be changed to
+one of roses, more fragrant indeed, but withering with a single sun!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The Crisis with Goethe._--I have thought much whether Goethe did
+well in giving up Lili. That was the crisis in his existence. From that
+era dates his being as a "Weltweise;" the heroic element vanished
+irrecoverably from his character; he became an Epicurean and a Realist;
+plucking flowers and hammering stones instead of looking at the stars.
+How could he look through the blinds, and see her sitting alone in her
+beauty, yet give her up for so slight reasons? He was right as a genius,
+but wrong as a character.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The Flower and the Pearl._---- has written wonders about the mystery of
+personality. Why do we love it? In the first place, each wishes to
+embrace a whole, and this seems the readiest way. The intellect soars,
+the heart clasps; from putting "a girdle round about the earth in forty
+minutes," thou wouldst return to thy own little green isle of emotion,
+and be the loving and playful fay, rather than the delicate Ariel.
+
+Then most persons are plants, organic. We can predict their growth
+according to their own law. From the young girl we can predict the
+lustre, the fragrance of the future flower. It waves gracefully to the
+breeze, the dew rests upon its petals, the bee busies himself in them,
+and flies away after a brief rapture, richly laden.
+
+When it fades, its leaves fall softly on the bosom of Mother Earth, to
+all whose feelings it has so closely conformed. It has lived as a part
+of nature; its life was music, and we open our hearts to the melody.
+
+But characters like thine and mine are mineral. We are the bone and
+sinew, these the smiles and glances, of earth. We lie nearer the mighty
+heart, and boast an existence more enduring than they. The sod lies
+heavy on us, or, if we show ourselves, the melancholy moss clings to us.
+If we are to be made into palaces and temples, we must be hewn and
+chiselled by instruments of unsparing sharpness. The process is
+mechanical and unpleasing; the noises which accompany it, discordant and
+obtrusive; the artist is surrounded with rubbish. Yet we may be polished
+to marble smoothness. In our veins may lie the diamond, the ruby,
+perhaps the emblematic carbuncle.
+
+The flower is pressed to the bosom with intense emotion, but in the home
+of love it withers and is cast away.
+
+The gem is worn with less love, but with more pride; if we enjoy its
+sparkle, the joy is partly from calculation of its value; but if it be
+lost, we regret it long.
+
+For myself, my name is Pearl.[42] That lies at the beginning, amid slime
+and foul prodigies from which only its unsightly shell protects. It is
+cradled and brought to its noblest state amid disease and decay. Only
+the experienced diver could have known that it was there, and brought it
+to the strand, where it is valued as pure, round, and, if less brilliant
+than the diamond, yet an ornament for a kingly head. Were it again
+immersed in the element where first it dwelt, now that it is stripped of
+the protecting shell, soon would it blacken into deformity. So what is
+noblest in my soul has sprung from disease, present defeat,
+disappointment, and untoward outward circumstance.
+
+For you, I presume, from your want of steady light and brilliancy of
+sparks which are occasionally struck from you, that you are either a
+flint or a rough diamond. If the former, I hope you will find a home in
+some friendly tinder-box, instead of lying in the highway to answer the
+hasty hoof of the trampling steed. If a diamond, I hope to meet you in
+some imperishable crown, where we may long remain together; you lighting
+up my pallid orb, I tempering your blaze.
+
+_Dried Ferns about my Lamp-shade._--"What pleasure do you, who have
+exiled those paper tissue covers, take in that bouquet of dried ferns?
+Their colors are less bright, and their shapes less graceful, than those
+of your shades."
+
+I answer, "They grew beneath the solemn pines. They opened their hearts
+to the smile of summer, and answered to the sigh of autumn. _They_
+remind me of the wealth of nature; the tissues, of the poverty of man.
+They were gathered by a cherished friend who worships in the woods, and
+behind them lurks a deep, enthusiastic eye. So my pleasure in seeing
+them is 'denkende' and 'menschliche.'"
+
+"They are of no use."
+
+"Good! I like useless things: they are to me the vouchers of a different
+state of existence."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Light._--My lamp says to me, "Why do you disdain me, and use that
+candle, which you have the trouble of snuffing every five minutes, and
+which ever again grows dim, ungrateful for your care? I would burn
+steadily from sunset to midnight, and be your faithful, vigilant friend,
+yet never interrupt you an instant."
+
+I reply, "But your steady light is also dull,--while his, at its best,
+is both brilliant and mellow. Besides, I love him for the trouble he
+gives; he calls on my sympathy, and admonishes me constantly to use my
+life, which likewise flickers as if near the socket."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Wit and Satire._--I cannot endure people who do not distinguish between
+wit and satire; who think you, of course, laugh at people when you laugh
+_about_ them; and who have no perception of the peculiar pleasure
+derived from toying with lovely or tragic figures.
+
+
+
+
+FAREWELL.[43]
+
+
+Farewell to New York city, where twenty months have presented me with a
+richer and more varied exercise for thought and life, than twenty years
+could in any other part of these United States.
+
+It is the common remark about New York, that it has at least nothing
+petty or provincial in its methods and habits. The place is large
+enough: there is room enough, and occupation enough, for men to have no
+need or excuse for small cavils or scrutinies. A person who is
+independent, and knows what he wants, may lead his proper life here,
+unimpeded by others.
+
+Vice and crime, if flagrant and frequent, are less thickly coated by
+hypocrisy than elsewhere. The air comes sometimes to the most infected
+subjects.
+
+New York is the focus, the point where American and European interests
+converge. There is no topic of general interest to men, that will not
+betimes be brought before the thinker by the quick turning of the wheel.
+
+_Too_ quick that revolution,--some object. Life rushes wide and free,
+but _too fast_. Yet it is in the power of every one to avert from
+himself the evil that accompanies the good. He must build for his study,
+as did the German poet, a house beneath the bridge; and then all that
+passes above and by him will be heard and seen, but he will not be
+carried away with it.
+
+Earlier views have been confirmed, and many new ones opened. On two
+great leadings, the superlative importance of promoting national
+education by heightening and deepening the cultivation of individual
+minds, and the part which is assigned to woman in the next stage of
+human progress in this country, where most important achievements are to
+be effected, I have received much encouragement, much instruction, and
+the fairest hopes of more.
+
+On various subjects of minor importance, no less than these, I hope for
+good results, from observation, with my own eyes, of life in the old
+world, and to bring home some packages of seed for life in the new.
+
+These words I address to my friends, for I feel that I have some. The
+degree of sympathetic response to the thoughts and suggestions I have
+offered through the columns of the Tribune, has indeed surprised me,
+conscious as I am of a natural and acquired aloofness from many, if not
+most popular tendencies of my time and place. It has greatly encouraged
+me, for none can sympathize with thoughts like mine, who are permanently
+insnared in the meshes of sect or party; none who prefer the formation
+and advancement of mere opinions to the free pursuit of truth. I see,
+surely, that the topmost bubble or sparkle of the cup is no voucher for
+the nature of its contents throughout, and shall, in future, feel that
+in our age, nobler in that respect than most of the preceding ages, each
+sincere and fervent act or word is secure, not only of a final, but of a
+speedy response.
+
+I go to behold the wonders of art, and the temples of old religion. But
+I shall see no forms of beauty and majesty beyond what my country is
+capable of producing in myriad variety, if she has but the soul to will
+it; no temple to compare with what she might erect in the ages, if the
+catchword of the time, a sense of _divine order_, should become no more
+a mere word of form, but a deeply-rooted and pregnant idea in her life.
+Beneath the light of a hope that this may be, I say to my friends once
+more a kind farewell!
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+POEMS.
+
+
+
+
+FREEDOM AND TRUTH.
+
+TO A FRIEND.
+
+
+    The shrine is vowed to freedom, but, my friend,
+    Freedom is but a means to gain an end.
+    Freedom should build the temple, but the shrine
+    Be consecrate to thought still more divine.
+    The human bliss which angel hopes foresaw
+    Is liberty to comprehend the law.
+    Give, then, thy book a larger scope and frame,
+    Comprising means and end in Truth's great name.
+
+
+
+
+DESCRIPTION OF A PORTION OF THE JOURNEY TO TRENTON FALLS.
+
+
+    The long-anticipated morning dawns,
+    Clear, hopeful, joyous-eyed, and pure of breath.
+    The dogstar is exhausted of its rage,
+    And copious showers have cooled the feverish air,
+    The mighty engine pants--away, away!
+
+    And, see! they come! a motley, smiling group--
+    The stately matron with her tempered grace,
+    Her earnest eye, and kind though meaning smile,
+    Her words of wisdom and her words of mirth.
+    Her counsel firm and generous sympathy;
+    The happy pair whose hearts so full, yet ever
+    Dilating to the scene, refuse that bliss
+    Which excludes the whole or blunts the sense of beauty.
+
+    Next two fair maidens in gradation meet,
+    The one of gentle mien and soft dove-eyes;
+    Like water she, that yielding and combining,
+    Yet most pure element in the social cup:
+    The other with bright glance and damask cheek,
+    You need not deem concealment there was preying
+    To mar the healthful promise of the spring.
+
+    Another dame was there, of graver look,
+    And heart of slower beat; yet in its depths
+    Not irresponsive to the soul of things,
+    Nor cold when charmed by those who knew its pass-word.
+
+    These ladies had a knight from foreign clime,
+    Who from the banks of the dark-rolling Danube,
+    Or somewhere thereabouts, had come, a pilgrim,
+    To worship at the shrine of Liberty,
+    And after, made his home in her loved realm,
+    Content to call it fatherland where'er
+    The streams bear freemen and the skies smile on them;
+    A courteous knight he was, of merry mood,
+    Expert to wing the lagging hour with jest,
+    Or tale of strange romance or comic song.
+
+    And there was one I must not call a page,
+    Although too young yet to have won his spurs;
+    Yet there was promise in his laughing eye,
+    That in due time he'd prove no carpet knight;
+    Now, bright companion on a summer sea,
+    With winged words of gay or tasteful thought,
+    He was fit clasp to this our social chain.
+
+    And now, the swift car loosened on its way,
+    O'er hill and dale we fly with rapid lightness,
+    While each tongue celebrates the power of steam;
+    O, how delightful 'tis to go so fast!
+    No time to muse, no chance to gaze on nature!
+    'Tis bliss indeed if "to think be to groan!"
+
+    The genius of the time soon shifts the scene:
+    No longer whirled over our kindred clods,
+    We, with as strong an impulse, cleave the waters.
+    Now doth our chain a while untwine its links,
+    And some rebound from a three hours' communion
+    To mingle with less favored fellow-men;
+    One careless turns the leaves of some new volume;
+    The leaves of Nature's book are too gigantic,
+    Too vast the characters for patient study,
+    Till sunset lures us with majestic power
+    To cast one look of love on that bright eye,
+    Which, for so many hours, has beamed on us.
+    The silver lamp is lit in the blue dome,
+    Nature begins her hymn of evening breezes,
+    And myriad sparks, thronging to kiss the wave,
+    Touch even the steamboat's clumsy hulk with beauty.
+    Then, once more drawn together, cheerful talk
+    Casts to the hours a store of gentle gifts,
+    Which memory receives from these bright minds
+    And careful garners them for duller days.
+
+    The morning greets us not with her late smile;
+    Now chilling damp falls heavy on our hopes,
+    And leaden hues tarnish each sighed-for scene.
+    Yet not on coloring, majestic Hudson,
+    Depends the genius of thy stream, whose wand
+    Has piled thy banks on high, and given them forms
+    Which have for taste an impulse yet unknown.
+    Though Beauty dwells here, she reigns not a queen,
+    An humble handmaid now to the Sublime.
+    The mind dilates to receive the idea of strength,
+    And tasks its elements for congenial forms
+    To create anew within those mighty piles,
+    Those "bulwarks of the world," which, time-defying
+    And thunder-mocking, lift their lofty brows.
+
+    Now at the river's bend we pause a while,
+    And sun and cloud combine their wealth to greet us.
+    Oft shall the fair scenes of West Point return
+    Upon the mind, in its still picture-hours,
+    Its cloud-capped mountains with their varying hues,
+    The soft seclusion of its wooded paths,
+    And the alluring hopefulness of view
+    Along the river from its crisis-point.
+    Unlike the currents of our human lives
+    When they approach their long-sought ocean-mother,--
+    This stream is noblest onward to its close,
+    More tame and grave when near its inland founts.
+    Now onward, onward, till the whole be known;
+    The heart, though swollen with these new sensations,
+    With no less vital throb beats on for more,
+    And rather we'd shake hands with disappointment
+    Than wait and lean on sober expectation.
+
+    The Highlands now are passed, and Hyde Park flies,--
+    Catskill salutes us--a far fairy-land.
+    O mountains, how do ye delude our hearts!
+    Let but the eye look down upon a valley,
+    We feel our limitations, and are calm;
+    But place blue mountains in the distant view,
+    And the soul labors with the Titan hope
+    To ascend the shrouded tops, and scale the heavens.
+
+    O, pause not in the murky, old Dutch city,
+    But, hasting onward with a renewed steam power,
+    Bestow your hours upon the beauteous Mohawk;
+    And here we grieve to lose our courteous knight,
+    Just at the opening of so rich a page.
+
+    How shall I praise thee, Mohawk? How portray
+    The love, the joyousness, felt in thy presence?
+    When each new step along the silvery tide
+    Added new gems of beauty to our thought,
+    And lapped the soul in an Elysium
+    Of verdure and of grace, fed by thy sweetness.
+    O, how gay Fancy smiled, and deemed it home!
+    This is, thought she, the river of my garden;
+    These are the graceful trees that form its bowers,
+    And these the meads where I have sighed to roam.
+    I now may fold my wearied wings in peace.
+
+
+
+
+JOURNEY TO TRENTON FALLS.
+
+
+                 I.
+
+       TO MY FRIENDS AND COMPANIONS.
+
+    If this faint reflex from those days so bright
+      May aught of sympathy among you gain,
+      I shall not think these verses penned in vain;
+    Though they tell nothing of the fancies light,
+      The kindly deeds, rich thoughts, and various grace
+    With which you knew to make the hours so fair,
+      That neither grief nor sickness could efface
+    From memory's tablet what you printed there.
+    Could I have breathed your spirit through these lines,
+      They might have charms to win a critic's smile,
+      Or the cold worldling of a sigh beguile.
+    I could but from my being bring one tone;
+    May it arouse the sweetness of your own.
+
+
+                II.
+
+          THE HIGHLANDS.
+
+    I saw ye first, arrayed in mist and cloud;
+      No cheerful lights softened your aspect bold;
+      A sullen gray, or green, more grave and cold,
+    The varied beauties of the scene enshroud.
+    Yet not the less, O Hudson! calm and proud,
+      Did I receive the impress of that hour
+      Which showed thee to me, emblem of that power
+    Of high resolve, to which even rocks have bowed;
+      Thou wouldst not deign thy course to turn aside,
+    And seek some smiling valley's welcome warm,
+      But through the mountain's very heart, thy pride
+    Has been, thy channel and thy banks to form.
+      Not even the "bulwarks of the world" could bar
+      The inland fount from joining ocean's war!
+
+
+                III.
+
+             CATSKILL.
+
+    How fair at distance shone yon silvery blue,
+      O stately mountain-tops, charming the mind
+      To dream of pleasures which she there may find,
+    Where from the eagle's height she earth can view!
+    Nor are those disappointments which ensue;
+      For though, while eyeing what beneath us lay,
+      Almost we shunned to think of yesterday,
+    As wonderingly our looks its course pursue.
+      Dwarfed to a point the joys of many hours,
+    The river on whose bosom we were borne
+    Seems but a thread, of pride and beauty shorn;
+      Its banks, its shadowy groves, like beds of flowers,
+    Wave their diminished heads;--yet would we sigh,
+    Since all this loss shows us more near the sky?
+
+
+                IV.
+
+       VALLEY OF THE MOHAWK.
+
+    Could I my words with gentlest grace imbue,
+      Which the flute's breath, or harp's clear tones, can bless,
+      I then might hope the feelings to express,
+    And with new life the happy day endue,
+      Thou gav'st, O vale, than Tempe's self more fair!
+    With thy romantic stream and emerald isles,
+    Touched by an April mood of tears and smiles
+      Which stole on matron August unaware;
+    The meads with all the spring's first freshness green,
+      The trees with summer's thickest garlands crowned,
+    And each so elegant, that fairy queen
+      All day might wander ere she chose her round;
+    No blemish on the sense of beauty broke,
+    But the whole scene one ecstasy awoke.
+
+
+                  V.
+
+      TRENTON FALLS, EARLY IN THE MORNING.
+
+    The sun, impatient, o'er the lofty trees
+      Struggles to illume as fair a sight as lies
+      Beneath the light of his joy-loving eyes,
+    Which all the forms of energy must please;
+      A solemn shadow falls in pillared form,
+    Made by yon ledge, which noontide scarcely shows,
+      Upon the amber radiance, soft and warm,
+    Where through the cleft the eager torrent flows.
+      Would you the genius of the place enjoy,
+    In all the charms contrast and color give?
+      Your eye and taste you now may best employ,
+    For this the hour when minor beauties live;
+      Scan ye the details as the sun rides high,
+      For with the morn these sparkling glories fly.
+
+
+                VI.
+
+      TRENTON FALLS, (AFTERNOON.)
+
+    A calmer grace o'er these still hours presides;
+      Now is the time to see the might of form;
+    The heavy masses of the buttressed sides,
+      The stately steps o'er which the waters storm;
+    Where, 'neath the mill, the stream so gently glides,
+      You feel the deep seclusion of the scene,
+      And now begin to comprehend what mean
+    The beauty and the power this chasm hides.
+    From the green forest's depths the portent springs,
+      But from those quiet shades bounding away,
+      Lays bare its being to the light of day,
+    Though on the rock's cold breast its love it flings.
+      Yet can all sympathy such courage miss?
+      Answer, ye trees! who bend the waves to kiss.
+
+
+               VII.
+
+      TRENTON FALLS BY MOONLIGHT.
+
+    I deemed the inmost sense my soul had blessed
+      Which in the poem of thy being dwells,
+      And gives such store for thought's most sacred cells;
+    And yet a higher joy was now confessed.
+    With what a holiness did night invest
+      The eager impulse of impetuous life,
+      And hymn-like meanings clothed the waters' strife!
+    With what a solemn peace the moon did rest
+      Upon the white crest of the waterfall;
+    The haughty guardian banks, by the deep shade,
+    In almost double height are now displayed.
+      Depth, height, speak things which awe, but not appall.
+    From elemental powers this voice has come,
+    And God's love answers from the azure dome.
+
+
+
+
+SUB ROSA, CRUX.
+
+
+            In times of old, as we are told,
+          When men more child-like at the feet
+              Of Jesus sat, than now,
+            A chivalry was known more bold
+              Than ours, and yet of stricter vow,
+          Of worship more complete.
+
+        Knights of the Rosy Cross, they bore
+        Its weight within the heart, but wore
+    Without, devotion's sign in glistening ruby bright;
+        The gall and vinegar they drank alone,
+        But to the world at large would only own
+    The wine of faith, sparkling with rosy light.
+
+        They knew the secret of the sacred oil
+        Which, poured upon the prophet's head,
+    Could keep him wise and pure for aye.
+        Apart from all that might distract or soil,
+        With this their lamps they fed.
+    Which burn in their sepulchral shrines unfading night and day.
+
+          The pass-word now is lost,
+        To that initiation full and free;
+          Daily we pay the cost
+        Of our slow schooling for divine degree.
+    We know no means to feed an undying lamp;
+    Our lights go out in every wind or damp.
+
+    We wear the cross of ebony and gold,
+      Upon a dark background a form of light,
+    A heavenly hope upon a bosom cold,
+      A starry promise in a frequent night;
+    The dying lamp must often trim again,
+    For we are conscious, thoughtful, striving men.
+
+    Yet be we faithful to this present trust,
+    Clasp to a heart resigned the fatal must;
+    Though deepest dark our efforts should enfold,
+    Unwearied mine to find the vein of gold;
+    Forget not oft to lift the hope on high;
+    The rosy dawn again shall fill the sky.
+
+    And by that lovely light, all truth-revealed,
+    The cherished forms which sad distrust concealed,
+    Transfigured, yet the same, will round us stand,
+    The kindred angels of a faithful band;
+    Ruby and ebon cross both cast aside,
+    No lamp is needed, for the night has died.
+
+    Happy be those who seek that distant day,
+    With feet that from the appointed way
+              Could never stray;
+    Yet happy too be those who more and more,
+    As gleams the beacon of that only shore,
+              Strive at the laboring oar.
+
+    Be to the best thou knowest ever true,
+      Is all the creed;
+    Then, be thy talisman of rosy hue,
+      Or fenced with thorns that wearing thou must bleed,
+    Or gentle pledge of Love's prophetic view,
+      The faithful steps it will securely lead.
+
+    Happy are all who reach that shore,
+      And bathe in heavenly day,
+    Happiest are those who high the banner bore,
+      To marshal others on the way;
+    Or waited for them, fainting and way-worn,
+              By burdens overborne.
+
+
+
+
+THE DAHLIA, THE ROSE, AND THE HELIOTROPE.
+
+
+    In a fair garden of a distant land,
+      Where autumn skies the softest blue outspread,
+      A lovely crimson dahlia reared her head,
+    To drink the lustre of the season's prime;
+      And drink she did, until her cup o'erflowed
+      With ruby redder than the sunset cloud.
+
+    Near to her root she saw the fairest rose
+      That ever oped her soul to sun and wind.
+    And still the more her sweets she did disclose,
+      The more her queenly heart of sweets did find,
+      Not only for her worshipper the wind,
+    But for bee, nightingale, and butterfly,
+    Who would with ceaseless wing about her ply,
+      Nor ever cease to seek what found they still would find.
+
+    Upon the other side, nearer the ground,
+      A paler floweret on a slender stem,
+    That cast so exquisite a fragrance round,
+      As seemed the minute blossom to contemn,
+    Seeking an ampler urn to hold its sweetness,
+    And in a statelier shape to find completeness.
+
+    Who could refuse to hear that keenest voice,
+    Although it did not bid the heart rejoice,
+    And though the nightingale had just begun
+    His hymn; the evening breeze begun to woo,
+    When through the charming of the evening dew,
+    The floweret did its secret soul disclose?
+    By that revealing touched, the queenly rose
+    Forgot them both, a deeper joy to hope
+    And heed the love-note of the heliotrope.
+
+
+
+
+TO MY FRIENDS.
+
+TRANSLATED FROM SCHILLER.
+
+
+    Beloved friends! Earth hath known brighter days
+      Than ours; we vainly strive to hide this truth;
+    Would history be silent in their praise,
+      The very stones tell of man's glorious youth,
+    In heavenly forms on which we crowd to gaze;
+      But that high-favored race hath sunk in night;
+      The day is ours--the living still have sight.
+
+    Friends of my youth! In happier climes than ours,
+      As some far-wandering countrymen declare,
+    The air is perfume; at each step spring flowers.
+      Nature has not been bounteous to our prayer;
+    But art dwells here, with her creative powers,
+      Laurel and myrtle shun our winter snows,
+      But with the cheerful vine we wreathe our brows.
+
+    Though of more pomp and wealth the Briton boast,
+      Who holds four worlds in tribute to his pride,--
+    Although from farthest India's glowing coast
+      Come gems of gold to burden Thames' dull tide,
+      And _bring_ each luxury that Heaven denied,--
+    Not in the torrent, but the still, calm brook,
+    Delights Apollo at himself to look.
+
+    More nobly lodged than we in northern halls,
+      At Angelo's gate the Roman beggar dwells;
+    Girt by the Eternal City's honored walls,
+      Each column some soul-stiring story tells;
+    While on the earth a second heaven dwells,
+      Where Michael's spirit to St. Peter calls;
+    Yet all this splendor only decks a tomb;
+    For us fresh flowers from every green hour bloom
+
+    And while we live obscure, may others' names
+      Through Rumor's trump be given to the wind;
+    New forms of ancient glories, ancient shames,
+      For nothing new the searching sun can find,
+      As pass the motley groups of human kind;
+    All other living things grow old and die--
+    Fancy alone has immortality.
+
+
+
+
+STANZAS.
+
+WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN.
+
+
+                      I.
+
+    Come, breath of dawn! and o'er my temples play;
+      Rouse to the draught of life the wearied sense;
+    Fly, sleep! with thy sad phantoms, far away;
+      Let the glad light scare those pale troublous shadows hence!
+
+
+                     II.
+
+    I rise, and leaning from my casement high,
+      Feel from the morning twilight a delight;
+    Once more youth's portion, hope, lights up my eye,
+      And for a moment I forget the sorrows of the night.
+
+
+                    III.
+
+    O glorious morn! how great is yet thy power!
+      Yet how unlike to that which once I knew,
+    When, plumed with glittering thoughts, my soul would soar,
+      And pleasures visited my heart like daily dew!
+
+
+                     IV.
+
+    Gone is life's primal freshness all too soon;
+      For me the dream is vanished ere my time;
+    I feel the heat and weariness of noon,
+      And long in night's cool shadows to recline.
+
+
+
+
+FLAXMAN.
+
+
+    We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone,
+      Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought,
+      And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought
+    Eternal beauty from the sculptured stone--
+    A higher charm than modern culture won,
+      With all the wealth of metaphysic lore,
+      Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore.
+    A many-colored light flows from our sun;
+    Art, 'neath its beams, a motley thread has spun;
+      The prison modifies the perfect day;
+    But thou hast known such mediums to shun,
+      And cast once more on life a pure white ray.
+    Absorbed in the creations of thy mind,
+    Forgetting daily self, my truest self I find.
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS
+
+ON SUNDAY MORNING, WHEN PREVENTED BY A SNOW STORM FROM GOING TO CHURCH.
+
+
+    Hark! the church-going bell! But through the air
+    The feathery missiles of old Winter hurled,
+    Offend the brow of mild-approaching Spring;
+    She shuts her soft blue eyes, and turns away.
+    Sweet is the time passed in the house of prayer,
+    When, met with many of this fire-fraught clay,
+    We, on this day,--the tribe of ills forgot,
+    Wherewith, ungentle, we afflict each other,--
+    Assemble in the temple of our God,
+    And use our breath to worship Him who gave it.
+    What though no gorgeous relics of old days,
+    The gifts of humbled kings and suppliant warriors,
+    Deck the fair shrine, or cluster round the pillars;
+    No stately windows decked with various hues,
+    No blazon of dead saints repel the sun;
+    Though no cloud-courting dome or sculptured frieze
+    Excite the fancy and allure the taste,
+    No fragrant censor steep the sense in luxury,
+    No lofty chant swell on the vanquished soul.
+
+    Ours is the faith of Reason; to the earth
+    We leave the senses who interpret her;
+    The heaven-born only should commune with Heaven,
+    The immaterial with the infinite.
+    Calmly we wait in solemn expectation.
+    He rises in the desk--that earnest man;
+    No priestly terrors flashing from his eye,
+    No mitre towers above the throne of thought,
+    No pomp and circumstance wait on his breath.
+    He speaks--we hear; and man to man we judge.
+    Has he the spell to touch the founts of feeling,
+    To kindle in the mind a pure ambition,
+    Or soothe the aching heart with heavenly balm,
+    To guide the timid and refresh the weary,
+    Appall the wicked and abash the proud?
+    He is the man of God. Our hearts confess him.
+    He needs no homage paid in servile forms,
+    No worldly state, to give him dignity:
+    To his own heart the blessing will return,
+    And all his days blossom with love divine.
+
+    There is a blessing in the Sabbath woods,
+    There is a holiness in the blue skies;
+    The summer-murmurs to those calm blue skies
+    Preach ceaselessly. The universe is love--
+    And this disjointed fragment of a world
+    Must, by its spirit, man, be harmonized,
+    Tuned to concordance with the spheral strain,
+    Till thought be like those skies, deeds like those breezes,
+    As clear, as bright, as pure, as musical,
+    And all things have one text of truth and beauty.
+
+    There is a blessing in a day like this,
+    When sky and earth are talking busily;
+    The clouds give back the riches they received,
+    And for their graceful shapes return they fulness;
+    While in the inmost shrine, the life of life,
+    The soul within the soul, the consciousness
+    Whom I can only _name_, counting her wealth,
+    Still makes it more, still fills the golden bowl
+    Which never shall be broken, strengthens still
+    The silver cord which binds the whole to Heaven.
+
+    O that such hours must pass away! yet oft
+    Such will recur, and memories of this
+    Come to enhance their sweetness. And again
+    I say, great is the blessing of that hour
+    When the soul, turning from without, begins
+    To register her treasures, the bright thoughts,
+    The lovely hopes, the ethereal desires,
+    Which she has garnered in past Sabbath hours.
+    Within her halls the preacher's voice still sounds,
+    Though he be dead or distant far. The band
+    Of friends who with us listened to his word,
+    With throngs around of linked associations,
+    Are there; the little stream, long left behind,
+    Is murmuring still; the woods as musical;
+    The skies how blue, the whole how eloquent
+    With "life of life and life's most secret joy"!
+
+
+
+
+TO A GOLDEN HEART WORN ROUND THE NECK.[44]
+
+
+    Remembrancer of joys long passed away,
+      Relic from which, as yet, I cannot part,
+    O, hast thou power to lengthen love's short day?
+      Stronger thy chain than that which bound the heart?
+
+    Lili, I fly--yet still thy fetters press me
+      In distant valley, or far lonely wood;
+    Still will a struggling sigh of pain confess thee
+      The mistress of my soul in every mood.
+
+    The bird may burst the silken chain which bound him,
+      Flying to the green home, which fits him best;
+    But, O, he bears the prisoner's badge around him,
+      Still by the piece about his neck distressed.
+    He ne'er can breathe his free, wild notes again;
+    They're stifled by the pressure of his chain.
+
+
+
+
+LINES
+
+ACCOMPANYING A BOUQUET OF WILD COLUMBINE, WHICH BLOOMED LATE IN THE
+SEASON.
+
+
+    These pallid blossoms thou wilt not disdain,
+      The harbingers of thy approach to me,
+    Which grew and bloomed despite the cold and rain,
+      To tell of summer and futurity.
+
+    It was not given them to tell the soul,
+      And lure the nightingale by fragrant breath:
+    These slender stems and roots brook no control,
+      And in the garden life would find but death.
+    The rock which is their cradle and their home
+    Must also be their monument and tomb;
+    Yet has my floweret's life a charm more rare
+    Than those admiring crowds esteem so fair,
+    Self-nurtured, self-sustaining, self-approved:
+    Not even by the forest trees beloved,
+    As are her sisters of the Spring, she dies,--
+    Nor to the guardian stars lifts up her eyes,
+    But droops her graceful head upon her breast,
+    Nor asks the wild bird's requiem for her rest,
+    By her own heart upheld, by her own soul possessed.
+
+    Learn of the clematis domestic love,
+      Religious beauty in the lily see;
+    Learn from the rose how rapture's pulses move,
+      Learn from the heliotrope fidelity.
+    From autumn flowers let hope and faith be known;
+    Learn from the columbine to live alone,
+    To deck whatever spot the Fates provide
+    With graces worthy of the garden's pride,
+    And to deserve each gift that is denied.
+
+    These are the shades of the departed flowers,
+    My lines faint shadows of some beauteous hours,
+    Whereto the soul the highest thoughts have spoken,
+    And brightest hopes from frequent twilight broken.
+    Preserve them for my sake. In other years,
+    When life has answered to your hopes or fears,
+    When the web is well woven, and you try
+    Your wings, whether as moth or butterfly,
+    If, as I pray, the fairest lot be thine,
+    Yet value still the faded columbine.
+    But look not on her if thy earnest eye,
+    Be filled by works of art or poesy;
+    Bring not the hermit where, in long array,
+    Triumphs of genius gild the purple day;
+    Let her not hear the lyre's proud voice arise,
+    To tell, "still lives the song though Regnor dies;"
+    Let her not hear the lute's soft-rising swell
+    Declare she never lived who lived so well;
+    But from the anvil's clang, and joiner's screw,
+    The busy streets where men dull crafts pursue,
+    From weary cares and from tumultuous joys,
+    From aimless bustle and from voiceless noise,
+    If there thy plans should be, turn here thine eye,--
+    Open the casket of thy memory;
+    Give to thy friend the gentlest, holiest sigh.
+
+
+
+
+DISSATISFACTION.
+
+TRANSLATED FROM THEODORE KOeRNER.
+
+"Composed as I stood sentinel on the banks of the Elbe."
+
+
+    Fatherland! Thou call'st the singer
+          In the blissful glow of day;
+    He no more can musing linger,
+      While thou dost mourn a tyrant's sway.
+          Love and poesy forsaking,
+      From friendship's magic circle breaking,
+      The keenest pangs he could endure
+          Thy peace to insure.
+
+    Yet sometimes tears must dim his eyes,
+      As, on the melodious bridge of song,
+    The shadows of past joys arise,
+      And in mild beauty round him throng.
+    In vain, o'er life, that early beam
+    Such radiance shed;--the impetuous stream
+    Of strife has seized him, onward borne,
+    While left behind his loved ones mourn.
+
+    Here in the crowd must he complain,
+      Nor find a fit employ?
+    Give him poetic place again,
+      Or the quick throb of warlike joy.
+    The wonted inspiration give;
+    Thus languidly he cannot live;
+    Love's accents are no longer near;
+      Let him the trumpet hear.
+
+    Where is the cannon's thunder?
+      The clashing cymbals, where?
+    While foreign foes our cities plunder,
+      Can we not hasten there?
+    I can no longer watch this stream;
+    _In prose_ I die! O source of flame!
+    O poesy! for which I glow,--
+    A nobler death thou shouldst bestow!
+
+
+
+
+MY SEAL-RING.
+
+
+    Mercury has cast aside
+    The signs of intellectual pride,
+    Freely offers thee the soul:
+      Art thou noble to receive?
+    Canst thou give or take the whole,
+      Nobly promise, and believe?
+    Then thou wholly human art,
+    A spotless, radiant, ruby heart,
+    And the golden chain of love
+    Has bound thee to the realm above.
+    If there be one small, mean doubt,
+    One serpent thought that fled not out,
+    Take instead the serpent-rod;
+    Thou art neither man nor God.
+    Guard thee from the powers of evil;
+    Who cannot trust, vows to the devil.
+    Walk thy slow and spell-bound way;
+    Keep on thy mask, or shun the day--
+    Let go my hand upon the way.
+
+
+
+
+THE CONSOLERS.
+
+TRANSLATED FROM GOETHE.
+
+
+    "Why wilt thou not thy griefs forget?
+    Why must thine eyes with tears be wet?
+    When all things round thee sweetly smile,
+    Canst thou not, too, be glad a while?"
+
+    "Hither I come to weep alone;
+    The grief I feel is all mine own;
+    Dearer than smiles these tears to me;
+    Smile you--I ask no sympathy!"
+
+    "Repel not thus affection's voice!
+    While thou art sad, can we rejoice?
+    To friendly hearts impart thy woe;
+    Perhaps we may some healing know."
+
+    "Too gay your hearts to feel like mine,
+    Or such a sorrow to divine;
+    Nought have I lost I e'er possessed;
+    I mourn that I cannot be blessed."
+
+    "What idle, morbid feelings these!
+    Can you not win what prize you please?
+    Youth, with a genius rich as yours,
+    All bliss the world can give insures."
+
+    "Ah, too high-placed is my desire!
+    The star to which my hopes aspire
+    Shines all too far--I sigh in vain,
+    Yet cannot stoop to earth again."
+
+    "Waste not so foolishly thy prime;
+    If to the stars thou canst not climb,
+    Their gentle beams thy loving eye
+    Every clear night will gratify."
+
+    "Do I not know it? Even now
+    I wait the sun's departing glow,
+    That I may watch them. Meanwhile ye
+    Enjoy the day--'tis nought to me!"
+
+
+
+
+ABSENCE OF LOVE.
+
+
+    Though many at my feet have bowed,
+      And asked my love through pain and pleasure,
+    Fate never yet the youth has showed
+      Meet to receive so great a treasure.
+
+    Although sometimes my heart, deceived,
+      Would love because it sighed _to feel_,
+    Yet soon I changed, and sometimes grieved
+      Because my fancied wound would heal.
+
+
+
+
+MEDITATIONS.
+
+    SUNDAY, _May 12, 1833_.
+
+
+    The clouds are marshalling across the sky,
+    Leaving their deepest tints upon yon range
+    Of soul-alluring hills. The breeze comes softly,
+    Laden with tribute that a hundred orchards
+    Now in their fullest blossom send, in thanks
+    For this refreshing shower. The birds pour forth
+    In heightened melody the notes of praise
+    They had suspended while God's voice was speaking,
+    And his eye flashing down upon his world.
+    I sigh, half-charmed, half-pained. My sense is living,
+    And, taking in this freshened beauty, tells
+    Its pleasure to the mind. The mind replies,
+    And strives to wake the heart in turn, repeating
+    Poetic sentiments from many a record
+    Which other souls have left, when stirred and satisfied
+    By scenes as fair, as fragrant. But the heart
+    Sends back a hollow echo to the call
+    Of outward things,--and its once bright companion,
+    Who erst would have been answered by a stream
+    Of life-fraught treasures, thankful to be summoned,--
+    Can now rouse nothing better than this echo;
+    Unmeaning voice, which mocks their softened accents.
+    Content thee, beautiful world! and hush, still busy mind!
+    My heart hath sealed its fountains. To the things
+    Of Time they shall be oped no more. Too long,
+    Too often were they poured forth: part have sunk
+    Into the desert; part profaned and swollen
+    By bitter waters, mixed by those who feigned
+    They asked them for refreshment, which, turned back,
+    Have broken and o'erflowed their former urns.
+
+    So when ye talk of _pleasure_, lonely world,
+    And busy mind, ye ne'er again shall move me
+    To answer ye, though still your calls have power
+    To jar me through, and cause dull aching _here_.
+
+    Not so the voice which hailed me from the depths
+    Of yon dark-bosomed cloud, now vanishing
+    Before the sun ye greet. It touched my centre,
+    The voice of the Eternal, calling me
+    To feel his other worlds; to feel that if
+    I could deserve a home, I still might find it
+    In other spheres,--and bade me not despair,
+    Though "want of harmony" and "aching void"
+    Are terms invented by the men of this,
+    Which I may not forget.
+
+                            In former times
+    I loved to see the lightnings flash athwart
+    The stooping heavens; I loved to hear the thunder
+    Call to the seas and mountains; for I thought
+    'Tis thus man's flashing fancy doth enkindle
+    The firmament of mind; 'tis thus his eloquence
+    Calls unto the soul's depths and heights; and still
+    I deified the creature, nor remembered
+    The Creator in his works.
+
+                              Ah now how different!
+    The proud delight of that keen sympathy
+    Is gone; no longer riding on the wave,
+    But whelmed beneath it: my own plans and works,
+    Or, as the Scriptures phrase it, my "_inventions_"
+    No longer interpose 'twixt me and Heaven.
+
+    To-day, for the first time, I felt the Deity,
+    And uttered prayer on hearing thunder. This
+    Must be thy will,--for finer, higher spirits
+    Have gone through this same process,--yet I think
+    There was religion in that strong delight,
+    Those sounds, those thoughts of power imparted. True,
+    I did not say, "He is the Lord thy God,"
+    But I had feeling of his essence. But
+    "'Twas pride by which the angels fell." So be it!
+    But O, might I but see a little onward!
+    Father, I cannot be a spirit of power;
+    May I be active as a spirit of love,
+    Since thou hast ta'en me from that path which Nature
+    Seemed to appoint, O, deign to ope another,
+    Where I may walk with thought and hope assured;
+    "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief!"
+    Had I but faith like that which fired Novalis,
+    I too could bear that the heart "fall in ashes,"
+    While the freed spirit rises from beneath them,
+    With heavenward-look, and Phoenix-plumes upsoaring!
+
+
+
+
+RICHTER.
+
+
+    Poet of Nature, gentlest of the wise,
+      Most airy of the fanciful, most keen
+    Of satirists, thy thoughts, like butterflies,
+      Still near the sweetest scented flowers have been:
+    With Titian's colors, thou canst sunset paint;
+      With Raphael's dignity, celestial love;
+    With Hogarth's pencil, each deceit and feint
+      Of meanness and hypocrisy reprove;
+    Canst to Devotion's highest flight sublime
+      Exalt the mind; by tenderest pathos' art
+      Dissolve in purifying tears the heart,
+    Or bid it, shuddering, recoil at crime;
+      The fond illusions of the youth and maid,
+    At which so many world-formed sages sneer,
+      When by thy altar-lighted torch displayed,
+    Our natural religion must appear.
+      All things in thee tend to one polar star;
+      Magnetic all thy influences are;
+    A labyrinth; a flowery wilderness.
+      Some in thy "slip-boxes" and honeymoons
+    Complain of--want of order, I confess,
+      But not of system in its highest sense.
+    Who asks a guiding clew through this wide mind,
+    In love of nature such will surely find,
+      In tropic climes, live like the tropic bird,
+    Whene'er a spice-fraught grove may tempt thy stray;
+      Nor be by cares of colder climes disturbed:
+    No frost the summer's bloom shall drive away;
+      Nature's wide temple and the azure dome
+      Have plan enough for the free spirit's home.
+
+
+
+
+THE THANKFUL AND THE THANKLESS.
+
+
+    With equal sweetness the commissioned hours
+    Shed light and dew upon both weeds and flowers.
+    The weeds unthankful raise their vile heads high,
+    Flaunting back insult to the gracious sky;
+    While the dear flowers, with fond humility,
+    Uplift the eyelids of a starry eye
+    In speechless homage, and, from grateful hearts,
+    Perfume that homage all around imparts.
+
+
+
+
+PROPHECY AND FULFILMENT.
+
+
+    When leaves were falling thickly in the pale November day,
+    A bird dropped here this feather upon her pensive way.
+    Another bird has found it in the snow-chilled April day;
+    It brings to him the music of all her summer's lay.
+    Thus sweet birds, though unmated, do never sing in vain;
+    The lonely notes they utter to free them from their pain,
+    Caught up by the echoes, ring through the blue dome,
+    And by good spirits guided pierce to some gentle home.
+
+    The pencil moved prophetic: together now men read
+    In the fair book of nature, and find the hope they need.
+    The wreath woven by the river is by the seaside worn,
+    And one of fate's best arrows to its due mark is borne.
+
+
+
+
+VERSES
+
+GIVEN TO W. C. WITH A BLANK BOOK, MARCH, 1844.
+
+
+    Thy other book to fill, more than eight years
+    Have paid chance tribute of their smiles and tears;
+    Many bright strokes portray the varied scene--
+    Wild sports, sweet ties the days of toil between;
+    And those related both in mind and blood,
+    The wise, the true, the lovely, and the good,
+    Have left their impress here; nor such alone,
+    But those chance toys that lively feelings own
+    Weave their gay flourishes 'mid lines sincere,
+    As 'mid the shadowy thickets bound the deer
+    Accept a volume where the coming time
+    Will join, I hope, much reason with the rhyme,
+    And that the stair his steady feet ascend
+    May prove a Jacob's ladder to my friend,
+    Peopled with angel-shapes of promise bright,
+    And ending only in the realms of light.
+
+    May purity be stamped upon his brow,
+    Yet leave the manly footsteps free as now;
+    May generous love glow in his inmost heart,
+    Truth to its utterance lend the only art;
+    While more a man, may he be more the child;
+    More thoughtful be, but the more sweet and mild;
+    May growing wisdom, mixed with sprightly cheer,
+    Bless his own breast and those which hold him dear;
+    Each act be worthy of his worthiest aim,
+    And love of goodness keep him free from blame,
+    Without a need straight rules for life to frame.
+
+    Good Spirit, teach him what he ought to be,
+    Best to fulfil his proper destiny,
+    To serve himself, his fellow-men, and thee.
+    These pages then will show how Nature wild
+    Accepts her Master, cherishes her child;
+    And many flowers, ere eight years more are done,
+    Shall bless and blossom in the western sun.
+
+
+
+
+EAGLES AND DOVES.
+
+GOETHE.
+
+
+    A new-fledged eaglet spread his wings
+    To seek for prey;
+    Then flew the huntsman's dart and cut
+    The right wing's sinewy strength away.
+    Headlong he falls into a myrtle grove;
+    There three days long devoured his grief,
+    And writhed in pain
+    Three long, long nights, three days as weary.
+    At length he feels
+    The all-healing power
+    Of Nature's balsam.
+    Forth from the shady bush he creeps,
+    And tries his wing; but, ah!
+    The power to soar is gone!
+    He scarce can lift himself
+    Along the ground
+    In search of food to keep mere life awake;
+    Then rests, deep mourning,
+    On a low rock by the brook;
+    He looks up to the oak tree's top,
+    Far up to heaven,
+    And a tear glistens in his haughty eye.
+
+    Just then come by a pair of fondling doves,
+    Playfully rustling through the grove.
+    Cooing and toying, they go tripping
+    Over golden sand and brook;
+    And, turning here and there,
+    Their rose-tinged eyes descry
+    The inly-mourning bird.
+    The dove, with friendly curiosity,
+    Flutters to the next bush, and looks
+    With tender sweetness on the wounded king.
+    "Ah, why so sad?" he cooes;
+    "Be of good cheer, my friend!
+    Hast thou not all the means of tranquil bliss
+    Around thee here?
+    Canst thou not meet with swelling breast
+    The last rays of the setting sun
+    On the brook's mossy brink?
+    Canst wander 'mid the dewy flowers,
+    And, from the superfluous wealth
+    Of the wood-bushes, pluck at will
+    Wholesome and delicate food,
+    And at the silvery fountain quench thy thirst?
+    O friend! the spirit of content
+    Gives all that we can know of bliss;
+    And this sweet spirit of content
+    Finds every where its food."
+    "O, wise one!" said the eagle, deeper still
+    Into himself retiring;
+    "O wisdom, thou speakest as a dove!"
+
+
+
+
+TO A FRIEND, WITH HEARTSEASE.
+
+
+    Content in purple lustre clad,
+    Kingly serene, and golden glad;
+    No demi hues of sad contrition,
+    No pallors of enforced submission;
+    Give me such content as this,
+    And keep a while the rosy bliss.
+
+
+
+
+ASPIRATION.
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN THE JOURNAL OF HER BROTHER R. F. F.
+
+
+    Foreseen, forespoken not foredone,--
+    Ere the race be well begun,
+    The prescient soul is at the goal,
+    One little moment binds the whole;
+    Happy they themselves who call
+    To risk much, and to conquer all;
+    Happy are they who many losses,
+    Sore defeat or frequent crosses,
+    Though these may the heart dismay,
+    Cannot the sure faith betray;
+    Who in beauty bless the Giver;
+    Seek ocean on the loveliest river;
+    Or on desert island tossed,
+    Seeing Heaven, think nought lost.
+    May thy genius bring to thee
+    Of this life experience free,
+    And the earth vine's mysterious cup,
+    Sweet and bitter yield thee up.
+    But should the now sparkling bowl
+    Chance to slip from thy control,
+    And much of the enchanted wine
+    Be spilt in sand, as 'twas with mine,
+    Let blessings lost being consecration,
+    Change the pledge to a libation.
+    For the Power to whom we bow
+    Has given his pledge, that, if not now,
+    They of pure and steadfast mind,
+    By faith exalted, truth refined,
+    Shall hear all music, loud and clear,
+    Whose first notes they ventured here.
+    Then fear not thou to wind the horn
+    Though elf and gnome thy courage scorn;
+    Ask for the castle's king and queen,
+    Though rabble rout may come between,
+    Beat thee, senseless, to the ground,
+    In the dark beset thee round;
+    Persist to ask, and they will come.
+    Seek not for rest a humbler home,
+    And thou wilt see what few have seen,
+    The palace home of king and queen.
+
+
+
+
+THE ONE IN ALL.
+
+
+    There are who separate the eternal light
+    In forms of man and woman, day and night;
+    They cannot bear that God be essence quite.
+
+    Existence is as deep a verity:
+    Without the dual, where is unity?
+    And the "I am" cannot forbear to be;
+
+    But from its primal nature forced to frame
+    Mysteries, destinies of various name,
+    Is forced to give what it has taught to claim.
+
+    Thus love must answer to its own unrest;
+    The bad commands us to expect the best,
+    And hope of its own prospects is the test.
+
+    And dost thou seek to find the one in two?
+    Only upon the old can build the new;
+    The symbol which you seek is found in you.
+
+    The heart and mind, the wisdom and the will,
+    The man and woman, must be severed still,
+    And Christ must reconcile the good and ill.
+
+    There are to whom each symbol is a mask;
+    The life of love is a mysterious task;
+    They want no answer, for they would not ask.
+
+    A single thought transfuses every form;
+    The sunny day is changed into the storm,
+    For light is dark, hard soft, and cold is warm.
+
+    One presence fills and floods the whole serene;
+    Nothing can be, nothing has ever been,
+    Except the one truth that creates the scene.
+
+    Does the heart beat,--that is a seeming only;
+    You cannot be alone, though you are lonely;
+    The All is neutralized in the One only.
+
+    You ask _a_ faith,--they are content with faith;
+    You ask to have,--but they reply, "IT hath."
+    There is no end, and there need be no path.
+
+    The day wears heavily,--why, then, ignore it;
+    Peace is the soul's desire,--such thoughts restore it;
+    The truth thou art,--it needs not to implore it.
+
+    _The Presence_ all thy fancies supersedes,
+    All that is done which thou wouldst seek in deeds,
+    _The_ wealth obliterates all seeming needs.
+
+    Both these are true, and if they are at strife,
+    The mystery bears the one name of _Life_,
+    That, slowly spelled, will yet compose the strife.
+
+    The men of old say, "Live twelve thousand years,
+    And see the end of all that here appears,
+    And Moxen[45] shall absorb thy smiles and tears."
+
+    These later men say, "Live this little day.
+    Believe that human nature is the way,
+    And know both Son and Father while you pray;
+
+    And one in two, in three, and none alone,
+    Letting you know even as you are known,
+    Shall make the you and me eternal parts of one."
+
+    To me, our destinies seem flower and fruit
+    Born of an ever-generating root;
+    The other statement I cannot dispute.
+
+    But say that Love and Life eternal seem,
+    And if eternal ties be but a dream,
+    What is the meaning of that self-same _seem_?
+
+    Your nature craves Eternity for Truth;
+    Eternity of Love is prayer of youth;
+    How, without love, would have gone forth your truth?
+
+    I do not think we are deceived to grow,
+    But that the crudest fancy, slightest show,
+    Covers some separate truth that we may know.
+
+    In the one Truth, each separate fact is true;
+    Eternally in one I many view,
+    And destinies through destiny pursue.
+
+    This is _my_ tendency; but can I say
+    That this my thought leads the true, only way?
+    I only know it constant leads, and I obey.
+
+    I only know one prayer--"Give me the truth,
+    Give me that colored whiteness, ancient youth,
+    Complex and simple, seen in joy and ruth.
+
+    Let me not by vain wishes bar my claim,
+    Nor soothe my hunger by an empty name,
+    Nor crucify the Son of man by hasty blame.
+
+    But in the earth and fire, water and air,
+    Live earnestly by turns without despair,
+    Nor seek a home till home be every where!"
+
+
+
+
+A GREETING.
+
+
+        Thoughts which come at a call
+    Are no better than if they came not at all;
+        Neither flower nor fruit,
+        Yielding no root
+        For plant, shrub, or tree.
+        Thus I have not for thee
+        One good word to say,
+        To-day,
+    Except that I prize thy gentle heart,
+    Free from ambition, falsehood, or art,
+        And thy good mind,
+        Daily refined,
+        By pure desire
+    To fan the heaven-seeking fire:
+    May it rise higher and higher;
+        Till in thee
+    Gentleness finds its dignity,
+    Life flowing tranquil, pure and free,
+    A mild, unbroken harmony.
+
+
+
+
+LINES TO EDITH, ON HER BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+    If the same star our fates together bind,
+    Why are we thus divided, mind from mind?
+    If the same law one grief to both impart,
+    How couldst thou grieve a trusting mother's heart?
+
+    Our aspiration seeks a common aim;
+    Why were we tempered of such differing frame?
+    But 'tis too late to turn this wrong to right;
+    Too cold, too damp, too deep, has fallen the night.
+
+    And yet, the angel of my life replies,
+    Upon that night a morning star shall rise,
+    Fairer than that which ruled thy temporal birth,
+    Undimmed by vapors of the dreamy earth.
+
+    It says, that, where a heart thy claim denies,
+    Genius shall read its secret ere it flies;
+    The earthly form may vanish from thy side,
+    Pure love will make thee still the spirit's bride.
+
+    And thou, ungentle, yet much loving child,
+    Whose heart still shows the "untamed haggard wild,"
+    A heart which justly makes the highest claim,
+    Too easily is checked by transient blame.
+
+    Ere such an orb can ascertain its sphere,
+    The ordeal must be various and severe;
+    My prayer attend thee, though the feet may fly;
+    I hear thy music in the silent sky.
+
+
+
+
+LINES
+
+WRITTEN IN HER BROTHER R. F. F.'S JOURNAL.
+
+     "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that
+     man is peace."--_Psalms_ xxxvii. 37.
+
+
+    The man of heart and words sincere,
+      Who truth and justice follows still,
+    Pursues his way with conscience clear,
+      Unharmed by earthly care and ill.
+    His promises he never breaks,
+      But sacredly to each adheres;
+    Honor's straight path he ne'er forsakes,
+      Though danger in the way appears.
+    He never boasts, will ne'er deceive,
+      For vanity nor yet for gain;
+    All that he says you may believe;
+      For worlds he would not conscience stain.
+    If he desires what others do,
+      And they deserve it more than he,
+    He gives to them what is their due,
+      Happy in his humility.
+    Not to his friends alone he's kind,
+      But his foes too with candor sees;
+    Not to their good intentions blind,
+      Though hopeless their dislike t' appease.
+    His eyes are clear, his hands are pure,
+      To God it is his constant prayer
+    That, be he rich or be he poor,
+      He never may wrong actions dare.
+    If rich, he to the suffering gives
+      All he can spare, and thinks it just,
+    That, since he by God's bounty lives,
+      He should as steward hold his trust.
+    If poor, he envies not; he knows
+      How covetousness corrupts the heart,
+    Whatever a just God bestows
+      Receiving as his proper part.
+    O Father, such a man I'd be;
+      Like him would act, like him would pray:
+    Lead me in truth and purity
+      To win thy peace and see thy day.
+
+
+
+
+ON A PICTURE REPRESENTING THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.
+
+BY RAPHAEL.
+
+
+    Virgin Mother, Mary mild!
+    It was thine to see the child,
+      Gift of the Messiah dove,
+      Pure blossom of ideal love,
+    Break, upon the "guilty cross,"
+      The seeming promise of his life;
+    Of faith, of hope, of love, a loss,
+      Deepened all thy, bosom's strife,
+    Brow down-bent, and heart-strings torn,
+    Fainting, by frail arms upborne.
+
+    All those startled figures show,
+      That they did not apprehend
+    The thought of Him who there lies low,
+      On whom those sorrowing eyes they bend.
+    They do not feel this holiest hour;
+    Their hearts soar not to read the power,
+      Which this deepest of distress
+      Alone could give to save and bless.
+
+    Soul of that fair, now ruined form,
+    Thou who hadst force to bide the storm,
+      Must again descend to tell
+      Of thy life the hidden spell;
+    Though their hearts within them burned,
+    The flame rose not till he returned.
+
+    Just so all our dead ones lie;
+    Just so call our thoughts on high;
+    Thus we linger on the earth,
+    And dully miss death's heavenly birth.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTURED WILD HORSE.[46]
+
+
+    On the boundless plain careering,
+    By an unseen compass steering,
+    Wildly flying, reappearing,--
+    With untamed fire their broad eyes glowing,
+    In every step a grand pride showing,
+    Of no servile moment knowing,--
+
+    Happy as the trees and flowers,
+    In their instinct cradled hours,
+    Happier in fuller powers,--
+
+    See the wild herd nobly ranging,
+    Nature varying, not changing,
+    Lawful in their lawless ranging.
+
+    But hark! what boding crouches near?
+    On the horizon now appear
+    Centaur-forms of force and fear.
+
+    On their enslaved brethren borne,
+    With bit and whip of tyrant scorn,
+    To make new captives, as forlorn.
+
+    Wildly snort the astonished throng,
+    Stamp, and wheel, and fly along,
+    Those centaur-powers they know are strong.
+
+    But the lasso, skilful cast,
+    Holds one only captive fast,
+    Youngest, weakest--left the last.
+
+    How thou trembledst then, Konick!
+    Thy full breath came short and thick,
+    Thy heart to bursting beat so quick;
+
+    Thy strange brethren peering round,
+    By those tyrants held and bound,
+    Tyrants fell,--whom falls confound!
+
+    With rage and pity fill thy heart;
+    Death shall be thy chosen part,
+    Ere such slavery tame thy heart.
+
+    But strange, unexpected joy!
+    They seem to mean thee no annoy--
+    Gallop off both man and boy.
+
+    Let the wild horse freely go!
+    Almost he shames it should be so;
+    So lightly prized himself to know.
+
+    All deception 'tis, O steed!
+    Ne'er again upon the mead
+    Shalt thou a free wild horse feed.
+
+    The mark of man doth blot thy side,
+    The fear of man doth dull thy pride,
+    Thy master soon shall on thee ride.
+
+    Thy brethren of the free plain,
+    Joyful speeding back again,
+    With proud career and flowing mane,
+
+    Find thee branded, left alone,
+    And their hearts are turned to stone--
+    They keep thee in their midst alone.
+
+    Cruel the intervening years,
+    Seeming freedom stained by fears,
+    Till the captor reappears;
+
+    Finds thee with thy broken pride.
+    Amid thy peers still left aside,
+    Unbeloved and unallied;
+    Finds thee ready for thy fate;
+    For joy and hope 'tis all too late--
+    Thou'rt wedded to thy sad estate.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Wouldst have the princely spirit bowed?
+    Whisper only, speak not loud,
+    Mark and leave him in the crowd.
+
+    Thou need'st not spies nor jailers have;
+    The free will serve thee like the slave,
+    Coward shrinking from the brave.
+
+    And thy cohorts, when they come
+    To take the weary captive home,
+    Need only beat the retreating drum.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OF ESSEX.
+
+SPOKEN IN THE CHARACTER OF THE QUEEN.--TRANSLATED FROM GOETHE.
+
+
+    No Essex here!--unblest--they give no sign.
+    And shall such live, while earth's best nobleness
+    Departs and leaves her barren? Now too late
+    Weakness and cunning both are exorcised.
+    How could I trust thee whom I knew so well?
+
+    Am I not like the fool of fable? He
+    Who in his bosom warmed the frozen viper,
+    And fancied man might hope for gratitude
+    From the betrayer's seed? Away! begone!
+    No breath, no sound shall here insult my anguish.
+    Essex is dumb, and they shall all be so;
+    No human presence shall control my mood.
+    Begone, I say! The queen would be alone!
+
+          (_They all go out._)
+
+    Alone and still! This day the cup of woe
+    Is full; and while I drain its bitter dregs,
+    Calm, queenlike, stern, I would review the past.
+    Well it becomes the favorite of fortune,
+    The royal arbitress of others' weal,
+    The world's desire, and England's deity,
+    Self-poised, self-governed, clear and firm to gaze
+    Where others close their aching eyes, to _dream_.
+
+    Who feels imperial courage glow within
+    Fears not the mines which lie beneath his throne;
+    Bold he ascends, though knowing well his peril--
+    Majestical and fearless holds the sceptre.
+    The golden circlet of enormous weight
+    He wears with brow serene and smiling air,
+    As though a myrtle chaplet graced his temples.
+    And thus didst _thou_. The far removed thy power
+    Attracted and subjected to thy will,
+    The hates and fears which oft beset thy way
+    Were seen, were met, and conquered by thy courage.
+    Thy tyrant father's wrath, thy mother's hopeless fate,
+    Thy sister's harshness,--all were cast behind;
+    And to a soul like thine, bonds and harsh usage
+    Taught fortitude, prudence, and self-command,
+    To act, or to endure. Fate did the rest.
+
+    One brilliant day thou heard'st, "Long live the Queen!"
+    A queen thou wert; and in the heart's despite,
+    Despite the foes without, within, who ceaseless
+    Have threatened war and death,--a queen thou _art_,
+    And wilt be, while a spark of life remains.
+    But this last deadly blow--I feel it here!
+    Yet the low, prying world shall ne'er perceive it.
+    "Actress" they call me,--'tis a queen's vocation!
+    The people stare and whisper--what would they
+    But acting, to amuse them? Is deceit
+    Unknown, except in regal palaces?
+    The child at play already is an actor.
+
+    Still to thyself, let weal or woe betide,
+    Elizabeth! be true and steadfast ever!
+    Maintain thy fixed reserve: 'tis just; what heart
+    Can sympathize with a queen's agony?
+    The false, false world,--it wooes me for my treasures,
+    My favors, and the place my smile confers;
+    And if for love I offer mutual love,
+    My minion, not content, must have the crown.
+    'Twas thus with Essex; yet to thee, O heart!
+    I dare to say it, thy all died with him!
+
+    Man must experience--be he who he may--
+    Of bliss a last, irrevocable day.
+    Each owns this true, but cannot bear to live
+    And feel the last has come, the last has gone;
+    That never eye again in earnest tenderness
+    Shall turn to him,--no heart shall thickly beat
+    When his footfall is heard,--no speaking blush
+    Tell the soul's wild delight at meeting,--never
+    Rapture in presence, hope in absence more,
+    Be his,--no sun of love illume his landscape!
+    Yet thus it is with me. Throughout this heart
+    Deep night, without a star! What all the host
+    To me,--my Essex fallen from the heavens!
+    To me he was the centre of the world,
+    The ornament of time. Wood, lawn, or hall,
+    The busy mart, the verdant solitude,
+    To me were but the fame of one bright image;
+    That face is dust,--those lustrous eyes are closed,
+    And the frame mocks me with its empty centre.
+
+    How nobly free, how gallantly he bore him,
+    The charms of youth combined with manhood's vigor!
+    How sage his counsel, and how warm his valor,--
+    The glowing fire and the aspiring flame!
+    Even in his presumption he was kingly!
+
+    But ah! does memory cheat me? What was all,
+    Since Truth was wanting, and the man I loved
+    Could court his death to vent his anger on me,
+    And I must punish him, or live degraded.
+    I chose the first; but in his death I died.
+    Land, sea, church, people, throne,--all, all are nought,
+    I live a living death, and call it royalty.
+    Yet, wretched ruler o'er these empty gauds,
+    A part remains to play, and I will play it.
+    A purple mantle hides my empty heart,
+    The kingly crown adorns my aching brow,
+    And pride conceals my anguish from the world.
+
+    But in the still and ghostly midnight hour,
+    From each intruding eye and ear set free,
+    I still may shed the bitter, hopeless tear,
+    Nor fear the babbling of the earless walls.
+    I to myself may say, "I die! I die!
+    Elizabeth, unfriended and alone,
+    So die as thou hast lived,--alone, but queenlike!"
+
+
+
+
+HYMN WRITTEN FOR A SUNDAY SCHOOL.
+
+      "And his mother said unto him, Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us?
+    Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing.
+      "And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not
+    that I must be about my Father's business? "--_Luke_ ii. 48, 49
+
+
+                 I.
+
+    Thus early was Christ's course begun,
+      Thus radiant dawned celestial day;
+    And those who such a race would run,
+      As early should be on the way.
+
+
+                II.
+
+    His Father's business was his care,
+      Yet in man's favor still he grew:
+    O, might we learn, by thought and prayer,
+      Like him a work of love to do!
+
+
+               III.
+
+    Wisdom and virtue still he sought,
+      Nor ignorant nor vile despised:
+    True was each action, pure each thought,
+      And each pure hope he realized.
+
+
+                IV.
+
+    The empires of this world, in vain,
+      Offered their sceptres to his hand;
+    Fearless he trod the stormy main,
+      Fearless 'mid throngs of foes could stand.
+
+
+                 V.
+
+    Yet with his courage and his power
+      Combined such sweetness and such love,
+    He could revere the simplest flower,
+      The vilest sinners firm reprove.
+
+
+                 VI.
+
+    For all mankind he came, nor yet
+      An infant's visit would deny;
+    Nor friend nor mother did forget
+      In his last hour of agony.
+
+
+                VII.
+
+    O, children, ask him to impart
+      That spirit clear and temper mild,
+    Which made the mother in her heart
+      Keep all the sayings of her child.
+
+
+                VIII.
+
+    Bless him who said, of such as you
+      His Father's kingdom is, and still,
+    His yoke to bear, his work to do,
+      Study his life to learn his will.
+
+
+
+
+DESERTION.
+
+TRANSLATION OF ONE OF GARCILASO'S ECLOGUES.
+
+
+    With my lamenting touched, the lofty trees
+    Incline their graceful heads without a breeze;
+    The listening birds forego their joyous song,
+    For soft and mournful strains, which echoes faint prolong.
+
+    Lions and bears resign the charms of sleep
+    To hear my lonely plaint, and see me weep;
+    At my approaching death e'en stones relent.
+      Yet though yourself the fatal cause you know,
+    Not once on me those lovely eyes are bent:
+      Flow freely, tears! 'tis meet that you should flow!
+
+    Although for my relief thou wilt not come,
+    Leave not the place where once thou loved'st to roam!
+    Here thou mayst rove secure from meeting me;
+    With a torn heart forever hence I flee.
+    Come, if 'twere this alone thy footsteps stayed,
+    Here the soft meadow, the delightful shade,
+    The roses now in flower, the waters clear,
+    Invite thee to the valley once so dear.
+
+    Come, and bring with thee thy late-chosen love;
+    Each object shall thy perfidy reprove;
+    Since to another thou hast given thy heart,
+    From this sweet scene forever I depart.
+    And soon kind Death my sorrows shall remove,
+    The bitter ending of my faithful love.
+
+
+
+
+SONG WRITTEN FOR A MAY DAY FESTIVAL.
+
+TO BE SUNG TO THE TUNE OF "THE BONNY BOAT."
+
+
+                  I.
+
+    O, blessed be this sweet May day,
+      The fairest of the year;
+    The birds are heard from every spray,
+      And the blue sky shines so clear!
+    White blossoms deck the apple tree,
+      Blue violets the plain;
+    Their fragrance tells the wand'ring bee
+      That Spring is come again.
+    We'll cull the blossoms from the bough
+      Where robins gayly sing,
+    We'll wreathe them for our queen's pure brow,
+      We'll wreathe them for our king.
+
+
+                 II.
+
+    The winter wind is bleak and sad,
+      And chill the winter rain;
+    But these May gales blow warm and glad,
+      And charm the heart from pain.
+    The sick, the poor rejoice once more,
+      Pale cheeks resume their glow,
+    And those who thought their day was o'er
+      New life to May suns owe.
+    And we, in youth and health so gay,
+      Sheltered by love and care,
+    How should we joy in blooming May,
+      And bless its balmy air!
+
+
+                III.
+
+    We are the children of the Spring;
+      Our home is always green;
+    Green be the garland of our king,
+      The livery of our queen.
+    The gardener's care the seed has strown,
+      To deck our home with flowers;
+    Our Father's love from high has shone,
+      And sent the needed showers.
+    Barren indeed the plants must be,
+      If they should not disclose,
+    Tended and cherished with such toil,
+      The lily and the rose.
+
+
+                IV.
+
+    Meanwhile through the wild wood we'll rove,
+      Where earliest flowerets grow,
+    And greet each simple bud with love,
+      Which tells us what to do--
+    That, though untended, we may bloom
+      And smile on all around,
+    And one day rise from earth's low tomb,
+      To live where light is found.
+    A modest violet be our queen,
+      Still fragrant, though alone,
+    Our king a laurel--evergreen--
+      To which no blight is known.
+
+
+                V.
+
+    So let us bless the sweet May day,
+      And pray the coming year
+    May see us walk the upward way--
+      Minds earnest, conscience clear;
+    That fruit Spring's amplest hope may crown,
+      And every winged day
+    Make to our hearts more dear, more known,
+      The hope, the peace of May!
+    So cull the blossoms from the bough
+      Where birds so gayly sing;
+    We'll wreathe them for our queen's pure brow,
+      We'll wreathe them for our king.
+
+
+
+
+CARADORI SINGING.
+
+
+    Let not the heart o'erladen hither fly,
+    Hoping in tears to vent its misery:
+    She soars not like the lark with eager cry,
+    Not hers the robin's notes of love and joy;
+    Nor, like the nightingale's love-descant, tells
+    Her song the truths of the heart's hidden wells.
+    Come, if thy soul be tranquil, and her voice
+    Shall bid the tranquil lake laugh and rejoice;
+    Shall lightly warble, flutter, hover, dance,
+    And charm thee by its sportive elegance.
+    A finished style the highest art has given,
+    And a fine organ she received from heaven:
+    But genius casts not here one living ray;
+    Thou shalt approve, admire, not weep, to-day.
+
+
+
+
+LINES
+
+IN ANSWER TO STANZAS CONTAINING SEVERAL PASSAGES OF DISTINGUISHED
+BEAUTY, ADDRESSED TO ME BY----.
+
+
+    As by the wayside the worn traveller lies,
+      And finds no pillow for his aching brow,
+    Except the pack beneath whose weight he dies,--
+      If loving breezes from the far west blow,
+    Laden with perfume from those blissful bowers
+    Where gentle youth and hope once gilded all his hours,
+    As fans that loving breeze, tears spring again,
+    And cool the fever of his wearied brain.
+
+    Even so to me the soft romantic dream
+      Of one who still may sit at fancy's feet,
+    Where love and beauty yet are all the theme,
+      Where spheral concords find an echo meet.
+    To the ideal my vexed spirit turns,
+    But often for communion vainly burns.
+    Blest is that hour when breeze of poesy
+    From far the ancient fragrance wafts to me;
+    _This time_ thrice blest, because it came unsought,
+    "Sweet suppliance," and _dear_, because _unbought_.
+
+
+
+
+INFLUENCE OF THE OUTWARD.
+
+
+    The sun, the moon, the waters, and the air,
+    The hopeful, holy, terrible, and fair;
+    Flower-alphabets, love-letters from the wave,
+    All mysteries which flutter, blow, skim, lave;
+    All that is ever-speaking, never spoken,
+    Spells that are ever breaking, never broken,--
+    Have played upon my soul, and every string
+    Confessed the touch which once could make it sing
+    Triumphal notes; and still, though changed the tone,
+    Though damp and jarring fall the lyre hath known,
+    It would, if fitly played, and all its deep notes wove
+    Into one tissue of belief and love,
+    Yield melodies for angel-audience meet,
+    And paeans fit creative power to greet.
+
+    O, injured lyre! thy golden frame is marred;
+    No garlands deck thee; no libations poured
+    Tell to the earth the triumphs of thy song;
+    No princely halls echo thy strains along;
+    But still the strings are there; and if at last they break,
+    Even in death some melody will make.
+    Mightst thou once more be strung, might yet the power be given,
+    To tell in numbers all thou hast of heaven!
+    But no! thy fragments scattered by the way,
+    To children given, help the childish play.
+    Be it thy pride to feel thy latest sigh
+    Could not forget the law of harmony,
+    Thou couldst not live for bliss--but thou for truth couldst die!
+
+
+
+
+TO MISS R. B.[47]
+
+
+    A graceful fiction of the olden day
+    Tells us that, by a mighty master's sway,
+    A city rose, obedient to the lyre;
+    That his sweet strains rude matter could inspire
+    With zeal his harmony to emulate;
+    Thus to the spot where that sweet singer sat
+    The rocks advanced, in symmetry combined,
+    To form the palace and the temple joined.
+    The arts are sisters, and united all,
+    So architecture answered music's call.
+
+    In modern days such feats no more we see,
+    And matter dares 'gainst mind a rebel be;
+    The faith is gone such miracles which wrought;
+    Masons and carpenters must aid our thought;
+    The harp and voice in vain would try their skill
+    To raise a city on our hard-bound soil;
+    The rocks have lain asleep so many a year,
+    Nothing but gunpowder will make them stir;
+    I doubt if even for your voice would come
+    The smallest pebble from its sandy home;
+    But, if the minstrel can no more create,
+    For _building_, if he live a little late,
+    He wields a power of not inferior kind,
+    No longer rules o'er matter, but o'er mind.
+    And when a voice like yours its song doth pour,
+    If it can raise palace and tower no more,
+    It can each ugly fabric melt away,
+    Bidding the fancy fairer scenes portray;
+    Its soft and brilliant tones our thoughts can wing
+    To climes whence they congenial magic bring;
+    As by the sweet Italian voice is given
+    Dream of the radiance of Italia's heaven.
+
+    Whether in round, low notes the strain may swell,
+    As if some tale of woe or wrong to tell,
+    Or swift and light the upward notes are heard,
+    With the full carolling clearness of a bird,
+    The stream of sound untroubled flows along,
+    And no obstruction mars your finished song.
+    No stifled notes, no gasp, no ill-taught graces,
+    No vulgar trills in worst-selected places,
+    None of the miseries which haunt a land
+    Where all would learn what so few understand,
+    Afflict in hearing you; in you we find
+    The finest organ, and informed by mind.
+
+    And as, in that same fable I have quoted,
+    It is of that town-making artist noted,
+    That, where he leaned his lyre upon a stone,
+    The stone stole somewhat of that lovely tone,
+    And afterwards each untaught passer-by,
+    By touching it, could rouse the melody,--
+    Even thus a heart once by your music thrilled,
+    An ear which your delightful voice has filled,
+    In memory a talisman have found
+    To repel many a dull, harsh, after-sound;
+    And, as the music lingered in the stone,
+    After the minstrel and the lyre were gone,
+    Even so my thoughts and wishes, turned to sweetness,
+    Lend to the heavy hours unwonted fleetness;
+    And common objects, calling up the tone,
+    I caught from you, wake beauty not their own.
+
+
+
+
+SISTRUM.[48]
+
+
+    Triune, shaping, restless power,
+    Life-flow from life's natal hour,
+    No music chords are in thy sound;
+    By some thou'rt but a rattle found;
+    Yet, without thy ceaseless motion,
+    To ice would turn their dead devotion.
+    Life-flow of my natal hour,
+    I will not weary of thy power,
+    Till in the changes of thy sound
+    A chord's three parts distinct are found.
+    I will faithful move with thee,
+    God-ordered, self-fed energy.
+    Nature in eternity.
+
+
+
+
+IMPERFECT THOUGHTS.
+
+
+    The peasant boy watches the midnight sky;
+    He sees the meteor dropping from on high;
+    He hastens whither the bright guest hath flown,
+    And finds--a mass of black, unseemly stone.
+    Disdainful, disappointed, turns he home.
+    If a philosopher that way had come,
+    He would have seized the waif with great delight,
+    And honored it as an aerolite.
+    But truly it would need a Cuvier's mind
+    High meaning in _my_ meteors to find.
+    Well, in my museum there is room to spare--
+    I'll let them stay till Cuvier goes there!
+
+
+
+
+SADNESS.
+
+
+    Lonely lady, tell me why
+    That abandonment of eye?
+    Life is full, and nature fair;
+    How canst thou dream of dull despair?
+
+    Life is full and nature fair;
+    A dull folly is despair;
+    But the heart lies still and tame
+    For want of what it may not claim.
+
+    Lady, chide that foolish heart,
+    And bid it act a nobler part;
+    The love thou couldst be bid resign
+    Never could be worthy thine.
+
+    O, I know, and knew it well,
+    How unworthy was the spell
+    In its silken band to bind
+    My heaven-born, heaven-seeking mind.
+
+    Thou lonely moon, thou knowest well
+    Why I yielded to the spell;
+    Just so thou didst condescend
+    Thy own precept to offend.
+
+    When wondering nymphs thee questioned why
+    That abandonment of eye,
+    Crying, "Dian,[49] heaven's queen,
+    What can that trembling eyelash mean?"
+
+    Waning, over ocean's breast,
+    Thou didst strive to hide unrest
+    From the question of their eyes,
+    Unseeing in their dull surprise.
+
+    Thy Endymion had grown old;
+    Thy only love was marred with cold;
+    No longer to the secret cave
+    Thy ray could pierce, and answer have.
+
+    No more to thee, no more, no more,
+    Till thy circling life be o'er,
+    A mutual heart shall be a home,
+    Of weary wishes happy tomb.
+
+    No more, no more--O words which sever
+    Hearts from their hopes, to part forever!
+    They can believe it never!
+
+
+
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.[50]
+
+
+    Some names there are at sight of which will rise
+    Visions of triumph to the dullest eyes;
+    They breathe of garlands from a grateful race,
+    They tell of victory o'er all that's base;
+    To write them eagles might their plumage give,
+    And granite rocks should yield, that they may live.
+
+    Others there are at sight of which will rise
+    Visions of beauty to all loving eyes,
+    Of radiant sweetness, or of gentle grace,
+    The poesy of manner or of face,
+    Spell of intense, if not of widest power;
+    The strong the ages rule; the fair, the hour.
+
+    And there are names at sight of which will rise
+    Visions of goodness to the mourner's eyes;
+    They tell of generosity untired,
+    Which gave to others all the heart desired;
+    Of Virtue's _uncomplaining_ sacrifice,
+    And holy hopes which sought their native skies.
+
+    If I could hope that at my name would rise
+    Visions like these, before those gentle eyes,
+    How gladly would I place it in the shrine
+    Where many honored names are linked with thine,
+    And know, if lone and far my pathway lies,
+    My name is living 'mid the good and wise.
+
+    It must not be, for now I know too well
+    That those to whom my name has aught to tell
+    O'er baffled efforts would lament or blame.
+    Who heeds a breaking reed?--a sinking flame?
+    Best wishes and kind thoughts I give to thee,
+    But mine, indeed, an _empty name_ would be.
+
+
+
+
+TO S. C.
+
+
+    Our friend has likened thee to the sweet fern,
+      Which with no flower salutes the ardent day,
+      Yet, as the wanderer pursues his way,
+    While the dews fall, and hues of sunset burn,
+      Sheds forth a fragrance from the deep green brake,
+      Sweeter than the rich scents that gardens make.
+    Like thee, the fern loves well the hallowed shade
+      Of trees that quietly aspire on high;
+    Amid such groves was consecration made
+      Of vestals, tranquil as the vestal sky.
+
+    Like thee, the fern doth better love to hide
+      Beneath the leaf the treasure of its seed,
+    Than to display it, with an idle pride,
+      To any but the careful gatherer's heed--
+    A treasure known to philosophic ken,
+    Garnered in nature, asking nought of men;
+      Nay, can invisible the wearer make,
+      Who would unnoted in life's game partake.
+    But I will liken thee to the sweet bay,
+      Which I first learned, in the Cohasset woods,
+    To name upon a sweet and pensive day
+      Passed in their ministering solitudes.
+
+    I had grown weary of the anthem high
+      Of the full waves, cheering the patient rocks;
+    I had grown weary of the sob and sigh
+      Of the dull ebb, after emotion's shocks;
+    My eye was weary of the glittering blue
+      And the unbroken horizontal line;
+    My mind was weary, tempted to pursue
+      The circling waters in their wide design,
+    Like snowy sea-gulls stooping to the wave,
+      Or rising buoyant to the utmost air,
+    To dart, to circle, airily to lave,
+      Or wave-like float in foam-born lightness fair:
+    I had swept onward like the wave so full,
+    Like sea weed now left on the shore so dull.
+
+    I turned my steps to the retreating hills,
+      Rejected sand from that great haughty sea,
+    Watered by nature with consoling rills,
+      And gradual dressed with grass, and shrub, and tree;
+    They seemed to welcome me with timid smile,
+    That said, "We'd like to soothe you for a while;
+      You seem to have been treated by the sea
+      In the same way that long ago were we."
+
+    They had not much to boast, those gentle slopes,
+      For the wild gambols of the sea-sent breeze
+    Had mocked at many of their quiet hopes,
+      And bent and dwarfed their fondly cherished trees;
+    Yet even in those marks of by-past wind,
+    There was a tender stilling for my mind.
+
+    Hiding within a small but thick-set wood,
+    I soon forgot the haughty, chiding flood.
+    The sheep bell's tinkle on the drowsy ear,
+    With the bird's chirp, so short, and light, and clear,
+    Composed a melody that filled my heart
+    With flower-like growths of childish, artless art,
+    And of the tender, tranquil life I lived apart.
+
+    It was an hour of pure tranquillity,
+    Like to the autumn sweetness of thine eye,
+    Which pries not, seeks not, and yet clearly sees--
+    Which wooes not, beams not, yet is sure to please.
+    Hours passed, and sunset called me to return
+    Where its sad glories on the cold wave burn.
+
+    Rising from my kind bed of thick-strewn leaves,
+    A fragrance the astonished sense receives,
+    Ambrosial, searching, yet retiring, mild:
+    Of that soft scene the soul was it? or child?
+    'Twas the sweet bay I had unwitting spread,
+    A pillow for my senseless, throbbing head,
+    And which, like all the sweetest things, demands,
+    To make it speak, the grasp of alien hands.
+
+    All that this scene did in that moment tell,
+      I since have read, O wise, mild friend! in thee.
+      Pardon the rude grasp, its sincerity,
+    And feel that I, at least, have known thee well.
+    Grudge not the green leaves ravished from thy stem,
+      Their music, should I live, muse-like to tell;
+    Thou wilt, in fresher green forgetting them,
+      Send others to console me for farewell.
+    Thou wilt see why the dim word of regret
+    Was made the one to rhyme with Margaret.
+
+    But to the Oriental parent tongue,
+      Sunrise of Nature, does my chosen name,
+    My name of Leila, as a spell, belong,
+      Teaching the meaning of each temporal blame;
+    I chose it by the sound, not knowing why;
+      But since I know that Leila stands for night,
+    I own that sable mantle of the sky,
+      Through which pierce, gem-like, points of distant light;
+    As sorrow truths, so night brings out her stars;
+      O, add not, bard! that those stars shine too late!
+    While earth grows green amid the ocean jars,
+      And trumpets yet shall wake the slain of her long century-wars.
+
+
+
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN BOSTON ON A BEAUTIFUL AUTUMNAL DAY.
+
+
+      As late we lived upon the gentle stream,
+        Nature refused us smiles and kindly airs;
+      The sun but rarely deigned a pallid gleam;
+        Then clouds came instantly, like glooms and tears,
+      Upon the timid flickerings of our hope;
+        The moon, amid the thick mists of the night,
+      Had scarcely power her gentle eye to ope,
+        And climb the heavenly steeps. A moment bright
+      Shimmered the hectic leaves, then rudely torn
+        By winds that sobbed to see the wreck they made,
+      Upon the amber waves were thickly borne
+        Adonis' gardens for the realms of shade,
+    While thoughts of beauty past all wish for livelier life forbade.
+
+      So sped the many days of tranquil life,
+        And on the stream, or by the mill's bright fire,
+      The wailing winds had told of distant strife,
+        Still bade us for the moment yield desire
+    To think, to feel, the moment gave,--we needed not aspire!
+
+      Returning here, no harvest fields I see,
+        Nor russet beauty of the thoughtful year.
+      Where is the honey of the city bee?
+        No leaves upon this muddy stream appear.
+      The housekeeper is getting in his coal,
+        The lecturer his showiest thoughts is selling;
+      I hear of Major Somebody, the Pole,
+        And Mr. Lyell, how rocks grow, is telling;
+      But not a breath of thoughtful poesy
+        Does any social impulse bring to me;
+      But many cares, sad thoughts of men unwise,
+        Base yieldings, and unransomed destinies,
+        Hopes uninstructed, and unhallowed ties.
+
+      Yet here the sun smiles sweet as heavenly love,
+        Upon the eve of earthly severance;
+      The youthfulest tender clouds float all above,
+        And earth lies steeped in odors like a trance.
+      The moon looks down as though she ne'er could leave us,
+    And these last trembling leaves sigh, "Must they too deceive us?"
+        Surely some life is living in this light,
+        Truer than mine some soul received last night;
+      I cannot freely greet this beauteous day,
+      But does not _thy_ heart swell to hail the genial ray?
+    I would not nature these last loving words in vain should say.
+
+
+
+
+TO E. C.
+
+WITH HERBERT'S POEMS.
+
+
+      Dost thou remember that fair summer's day,
+      As, sick and weary on my couch I lay,
+      Thou broughtst this little book, and didst diffuse
+      O'er my dark hour the light of Herbert's muse?
+      The "Elixir," and "True Hymn," were then thy choice,
+      And the high strain gained sweetness from thy voice.
+      The book, before that day to me unknown,
+      I took to heart at once, and made my own.
+
+      Three winters and three summers since have passed,
+        And bitter griefs the hearts of both have tried;
+      Thy sympathy is lost to me at last;
+        A dearer love has torn thee from my side;
+      Scenes, friends, to me unknown, now claim thy care;
+      No more thy joys or griefs I soothe or share;
+      No more thy lovely form my eye shall bless;
+      The gentle smile, the timid, mute caress,
+    No more shall break the icy chains which may my heart oppress.
+
+      New duties claim us both; indulgent Heaven
+      Ten years of mutual love to us had given;
+      The plants from early youth together grew,
+      Together all youth's sun and tempests knew.
+      At age mature arrived, thou, graceful vine!
+      Didst seek a sheltering tree round which to twine;
+      While I, like northern fir, must be content
+    To clasp the rock which gave my youth its scanty nourishment.
+
+    The world for which we sighed is with us now;
+    No longer musing on the _why_ or _how_,
+    _What_ really does exist we now must meet;
+    Life's dusty highway is beneath our feet;
+    Life's fainting pilgrims claim our ministry,
+    And the whole scene speaks stern _reality_.
+
+    Say, in the tasks reality has brought,
+    Keepst _thou_ the plan that pleased thy childish thought?
+    Does Herbert's "Hymn" in thy heart echo now?
+    Herbert's "Elixir" in thy bosom glow?
+    In Herbert's "Temper" dost thou strive to be?
+    Does Herbert's "Pearl" seem the true pearl to thee?
+    O, if 'tis so, I have not prayed in vain!--
+    My friend, my sister, we shall meet again.
+
+    I dare not say that _I_ am always true
+    To the vocation which my young thought knew;
+    But the Great Spirit blesses me, and still,
+    Though clouds may darken o'er the heavenly will,
+    Upon the hidden sun my thoughts can rest,
+    And oft the rainbow glitters in the west.
+    This earth no more seems all the world to me;
+    Before me shines a far eternity,
+    Whose laws to me, when thought is calmly poised,
+    Suffice, as they to angels have sufficed.
+    I know the thunder has not ceased to roll,
+    Not all the iron yet has pierced my soul;
+    I know no earthly honors wait for me,
+    No earthly love my heart shall satisfy.
+    Tears, of these eyes still oft the guests must be,
+    Long hours be borne, of chilling apathy;
+    Still harder teachings come to make me wise,
+    And life's best blood must seal the sacrifice.
+
+    But He who still seems nearer and more bright,
+    Nor from my _seeking_ eye withholds his light,
+    Will not forsake me, for his pledge is given;
+    Virtue shall teach the soul its way to heaven.
+
+    O, pray for me, and I for thee will pray;
+    And more than loving words we used to say
+    Shall this avail. But little more we meet
+    In life--ah, how the years begin to fleet!
+    Ask--pray that I may seek beauty and truth,
+    In their high sphere we shall renew our youth.
+    On wings of _steadfast faith_ there mayst _thou_ soar,
+    And _my_ soul fret at barriers no more!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MARGARET FULLER'S WORKS AND MEMOIRS.
+
+WOMAN IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, and kindred papers relating to the
+Sphere, Condition, and Duties of Woman. Edited by her brother, ARTHUR B.
+FULLER, with an Introduction by HORACE GREELEY. In 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
+
+ART, LITERATURE, AND THE DRAMA. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
+
+LIFE WITHOUT AND LIFE WITHIN; or, Reviews, Narratives, Essays, and
+Poems. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50.
+
+AT HOME AND ABROAD; or, Things and Thoughts in America and Europe. 1
+vol. 16mo. $1.50.
+
+MEMOIRS OF MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. By RALPH WALDO EMERSON, WILLIAM HENRY
+CHANNING, and JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. With Portrait and Appendix. 2 vols.
+16mo. $3.00. Cheap edition. Two vols. in one. $1.50.
+
+MARGARET FULLER will be remembered as one of the "Great Conversers," the
+"Prophet of the Woman Movement" in this country, and her Memoirs will be
+read with delight as among the tenderest specimens of biographical
+writing in our language. She was never an extremist. She considered
+woman neither man's rival nor his foe, but his complement. As she
+herself said, she believed that the development of one could not be
+affected without that of the other. Her words, so noble in tone, so
+moderate in spirit, so eloquent in utterance, should not be forgotten by
+her sisters. Horace Greeley, in his introduction to her "Woman in the
+Nineteenth Century," says: "She was one of the earliest, as well as
+ablest, among American women to demand for her sex equality before the
+law with her titular lord and master. Her writings on this subject have
+the force that springs from the ripening of profound reflection into
+assured conviction. It is due to her memory, as well as to the great and
+living cause of which she was so eminent and so fearless an advocate,
+that what she thought and said with regard to the position of her sex
+and its limitations should be fully and fairly placed before the
+public." No woman who wishes to understand the full scope of what is
+called the woman's movement should fail to read these pages, and see in
+them how one woman proved her right to a position in literature hitherto
+occupied by men, by filling it nobly.
+
+The Story of this rich, sad, striving, unsatisfied life, with its depths
+of emotion and its surface sparkling and glowing, is told tenderly and
+reverently by her biographers. Their praise is eulogy, and their words
+often seem extravagant, but they knew her well, they spoke as they felt.
+The character that could awaken such interest and love surely is a rare
+one.
+
+==>The above are uniformly bound in cloth, and sold separately or in
+sets.
+
+Sold everywhere. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS,
+BOSTON.
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+Famous Women Series.
+
+MARGARET FULLER.
+
+BY JULIA WARD HOWE.
+
+One volume. 16mo. Cloth. Price $1.00.
+
+"A memoir of the woman who first in New England took a position of moral
+and intellectual leadership, by the woman who wrote the Battle Hymn of
+the Republic, is a literary event of no common or transient interest.
+The Famous Women Series will have no worthier subject and no more
+illustrious biographer. Nor will the reader be disappointed,--for the
+narrative is deeply interesting and full of inspiration."--_Woman's
+Journal._
+
+"Mrs. Julia Ward Howe's biography of _Margaret Fuller_, in the Famous
+Women Series of Messrs. Roberts Brothers, is a work which has been
+looked for with curiosity. It will not disappoint expectation. She has
+made a brilliant and an interesting book. Her study of Margaret Fuller's
+character is thoroughly sympathetic; her relation of her life is done in
+a graphic and at times a fascinating manner. It is the case of one woman
+of strong individuality depicting the points which made another one of
+the most marked characters of her day. It is always agreeable to follow
+Mrs. Howe in this; for while we see marks of her own mind constantly,
+there is no inartistic protrusion of her personality. The book is always
+readable, and the relation of the death-scene is thrillingly
+impressive."--_Saturday Gazette._
+
+"Mrs. Julia Ward Howe has retold the story of Margaret Fuller's life and
+career in a very interesting manner. This remarkable woman was happy in
+having James Freeman Clarke, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and William Henry
+Channing, all of whom had been intimate with her and had felt the spell
+of her extraordinary personal influence, for her biographers. It is
+needless to say, of course, that nothing could be better than these
+reminiscences in their way."--_New York World._
+
+"The selection of Mrs. Howe as the writer of this biography was a happy
+thought on the part of the editor of the series; for, aside from the
+natural appreciation she would have for Margaret Fuller, comes her
+knowledge of all the influences that had their effect on Margaret
+Fuller's life. She tells the story of Margaret Fuller's interesting life
+from all sources and from her own knowledge, not hesitating to use
+plenty of quotations when she felt that others, or even Margaret Fuller
+herself, had done the work better."--_Miss Gilder, in Philadelphia
+Press._
+
+
+HARRIET MARTINEAU.
+
+BY MRS. F. FENWICK MILLER.
+
+16mo. Cloth. Price $1.00.
+
+"The almost uniform excellence of the 'Famous Women' series is well
+sustained in Mrs. Fenwick Miller's life of Harriet Martineau, the latest
+addition to this little library of biography. Indeed, we are disposed to
+rank it as the best of the lot. The subject is an entertaining one, and
+Mrs. Miller has done her work admirably. Miss Martineau was a remarkable
+woman, in a century that has not been deficient in notable characters.
+Her native genius, and her perseverance in developing it; her trials and
+afflictions, and the determination with which she rose superior to them;
+her conscientious adherence to principle, and the important place which
+her writings hold in the political and educational literature of her
+day,--all combine to make the story of her life one of exceptional
+interest.... With the exception, possibly, of George Eliot, Harriet
+Martineau was the greatest of English women. She was a poet and a
+novelist, but not as such did she make good her title to distinction.
+Much more noteworthy were her achievements in other lines of thought,
+not usually essayed by women. She was eminent as a political economist,
+a theologian, a journalist, and a historian.... But to attempt a mere
+outline of her life and works is put of the question in our limited
+space. Her biography should be read by all in search of
+entertainment."--_Professor Woods in Saturday Mirror._
+
+"The present volume has already shared the fate of several of the recent
+biographies of the distinguished dead, and has been well advertised by
+the public contradiction of more or less important points in the
+relation by the living friends of the dead genius. One of Mrs. Miller's
+chief concerns in writing this life seems to have been to redeem the
+character of Harriet Martineau from the appearance of hardness and
+unamiability with which her own autobiography impresses the reader....
+Mrs Miller, however, succeeds in this volume in showing us an altogether
+different side to her character,--a home-loving, neighborly,
+bright-natured, tender-hearted, witty, lovable, and altogether womanly
+woman, as well as the clear thinker, the philosophical reasoner, and
+comprehensive writer whom we already knew."--_The Index._
+
+"Already ten volumes in this library are published; namely, George
+Eliot, Emily Bronte, George Sand, Mary Lamb, Margaret Fuller, Maria
+Edgeworth, Elizabeth Fry, The Countess of Albany, Mary Wollstonecraft,
+and the present volume. Surely a galaxy of wit and wealth of no mean
+order! Miss M. will rank with any of them in womanliness or gifts or
+grace. At home or abroad, in public or private. She was noble and true,
+and her life stands confessed a success. True, she was literary, but she
+was a home lover and home builder. She never lost the higher aims and
+ends of life, no matter how flattering her success. This whole series
+ought to be read by the young ladies of to-day. More of such biography
+would prove highly beneficial."--_Troy Telegram._
+
+_Our publications are for sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed,
+post-paid, on receipt of price._
+
+MARY LAMB.
+
+BY ANNE GILCHRIST.
+
+One volume. 16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
+
+"The story of Mary Lamb has long been familiar to the readers of Elia,
+but never in its entirety as in the monograph which Mrs. Anne Gilchrist
+has just contributed to the Famous Women Series. Darkly hinted at by
+Talfourd in his Final Memorials of Charles Lamb, it became better known
+as the years went on and that imperfect work was followed by fuller and
+franker biographies,--became so well known, in fact, that no one could
+recall the memory of Lamb without recalling at the same time the memory
+of his sister."--_New York Mail and Express._
+
+"A biography of Mary Lamb must inevitably be also, almost more, a
+biography of Charles Lamb, so completely was the life of the sister
+encompassed by that of her brother; and it must be allowed that Mrs.
+Anne Gilchrist has performed a difficult biographical task with taste
+and ability.... The reader is at least likely to lay down the book with
+the feeling that if Mary Lamb is not famous she certainly deserves to
+be, and that a debt of gratitude is due Mrs. Gilchrist for this
+well-considered record of her life."--_Boston Courier._
+
+"Mary Lamb, who was the embodiment of everything that is tenderest in
+woman, combined with this a heroism which bore her on for a while
+through the terrors of insanity. Think of a highly intellectual woman
+struggling year after year with madness, triumphant over it for a
+season, and then at last succumbing to it. The saddest lines that ever
+were written are those descriptive of this brother and sister just
+before Mary, on some return of insanity, was to leave Charles Lamb. 'On
+one occasion Mr. Charles Lloyd met them slowly pacing together a little
+foot-path in Hoxton Fields, both weeping bitterly, and found, on joining
+them, that they were taking their solemn way to the accustomed asylum.'
+What pathos is there not here?"--_New York Times._
+
+"This life was worth writing, for all records of weakness conquered, of
+pain patiently borne, of success won from difficulty, of cheerfulness in
+sorrow and affliction, make the world better. Mrs. Gilchrist's biography
+is unaffected and simple. She has told the sweet and melancholy story
+with judicious sympathy, showing always the light shining through
+darkness."--_Philadelphia Press._
+
+Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of the price, by
+the Publishers,
+
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following typographical errors were corrected by the etext
+transcriber:
+
+No less pedantic is the style in which the grown-up, in stature at
+least, undertake to become acquainted with Dante.=> No less pedantic is
+the style in which the grown-up, in stature at least, undertakes to
+become acquainted with Dante.
+
+Even the proem shows how large is his nature=>Even the poem shows how
+large is his nature
+
+There is a little poem in the Schnellpost, by Mority Hartmann=>There is
+a little poem in the Schnellpost, by Moritz Hartmann
+
+If a character be uncorrrpted=>If a character be uncorrupted
+
+of a noble dscription=>of a noble description
+
+law with her titluar lord and master=>law with her titular lord and
+master
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] "He who would do great things must quickly draw together his forces.
+The master can only show himself such through limitation, and the law
+alone can give us freedom."
+
+[2] Except in "La belle France."
+
+[3] Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe, translated from the German
+by my sister, form one volume of the "Specimens of Foreign Literature,"
+edited by Rev. George Ripley, and published in 1839. This volume has
+been republished by James Munroe & Co., Boston, within a few years.--ED.
+
+[4] The name of Macaria is one of noblest association. It is that of the
+daughter of Hercules, who devoted herself a voluntary sacrifice for her
+country. She was adored by the Greeks as the true Felicity.
+
+[5] "By the Author of Essays of Summer Hours."
+
+[6] The Life of Beethoven, including his Correspondence with his
+Friends, numerous characteristic Traits, and Remarks on his Musical
+Works. Edited by Ignace Moscheles, Pianist to His Royal Highness Prince
+Albert.
+
+[7] See article on Beethoven, in Margaret's volume, entitled "Art,
+Literature, and the Drama."--ED.
+
+[8] Ormond, or the Secret Witness; Wieland, or the Transformation; by
+Charles Brockden Brown.
+
+[9] The Raven and other Poems, by Edgar A. Poe, 1845.
+
+[10] The Autobiography of Alfieri, translated by C. E. Lester. Memoirs
+of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by Roscoe.
+
+[11] Although the errors here specially referred to by my sister have
+been corrected in this volume, I let her statement remain as explanation
+of any other errors which may possibly have crept into type, in this
+volume, through the illegibility of some of her manuscripts from which I
+have been compelled to copy for this work.--ED.
+
+[12] Napoleon and his Marshals, by J. T. Headley.
+
+[13] Physical Education and the Preservation of Health, by John C.
+Warren.
+
+[14] Physiological and Moral Management of Infancy, by Andrew Combe, M.
+D.
+
+[15] Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave,
+written by himself.
+
+[16] Philip van Artevelde, A Dramatic Romance, by Henry Taylor.
+
+[17] For a translation by my sister of this Drama, see Part III. of her
+"Art, Literature, and the Drama," where it is now, for the first time,
+published, simultaneously with the appearance of this volume.--ED.
+
+[18] The Poetical Works of Percy Bysche Shelley. First American edition
+(complete.) With a Biographical and Critical Notice, by G. G. Foster.
+
+[19] Festus: A Poem, by Philip James Bailey. First American edition,
+Boston.
+
+[20] Balzac, Eugene Sue, De Vigny.
+
+[21] Etherology, or the Philosophy of Mesmerism and Phrenology:
+Including a New Philosophy of Sleep and of Consciousness, with a Review
+of the Pretensions of Neurology and Phreno-Magnetism. By J. Stanley
+Grimes.
+
+[22] A German newspaper.
+
+[23] Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, by Thomas Carlyle.
+
+[24] I conclude the poor boy Oliver has already fallen in these wars;
+none of us knows where, though his father well knew.
+
+[25] Sir Philip Warwick's Memoirs, (London, 1701,) p. 249.
+
+[26] Essays, Second Series, by Ralph Waldo Emerson.
+
+[27] A Defence of Capital Punishment, and an Essay on the Ground and
+Reason of Punishment, with Special Reference to the Penalty of Death New
+York, 1846.
+
+[28] [In refusing to repeal what are technically and significantly
+termed her "Black Laws," relating to the settlement of colored men, and
+their rights within that state.--ED.]
+
+[29] John Quincy Adams.
+
+[30] For her treatment of a sister republic in our late war with Mexico.
+
+[31] Miss Delia Webster.
+
+[32] Hon. Samuel Hoar, sent to Charleston, S. C., to test in the courts
+her laws, and driven thence with his daughter by a mob.
+
+[33] It is well known that in this sketch my sister gives an account of
+an incident in the history of her own school-girl life. I need scarcely
+say that only so far as this incident is concerned is the story of
+Mariana in any sense autobiographical.--ED.
+
+[34][Agis, king of Sparta, the fourth of that name. "One of the most
+beautiful characters of antiquity."--ED.]
+
+[35] [In New York.--ED.]
+
+[36] Meta, the wife of Klopstock, one of Germany's most celebrated
+poets, is doubtless well known to many of our readers through the
+beautiful letters to Samuel Richardson, the novelist, or through Mrs.
+Jameson's work, entitled the Loves of the Poets. It is said that
+Klopstock wrote continually to her even after her death.
+
+[37] Fact, that this is affirmed.
+
+[38] Facts.
+
+[39] Facts.
+
+[40] Facts.
+
+[41] The destruction of Mr. Clay's press by a mob.--ED.
+
+[42] _Margaret_ means _Pearl_.--ED.
+
+[43] Published in the New York Tribune, Aug. 1, 1846, just previous to
+sailing for Europe.--ED.
+
+[44] Goethe says, "A little golden heart, which I had received from
+Lili in those fairy hours, still hung by the same little chain to which
+she had fastened it, love-warmed, about my neck. I seized hold of
+it--kissed it." This was the occasion of these lines. The poet now was
+separated from Lili, and striving to forget her in journeying
+about.--ED.
+
+[45] Buddhist term for absorption into the divine mind.
+
+[46] This horse, Konick, was caught early, marked, and then let loose
+again, for a time, among the herd. He still retains a wild freedom and
+beauty in his movements.
+
+[47] A sweet and beautiful singer.--ED.
+
+[48] A musical instrument of the ancients, employed by the Egyptians in
+the worship of Isis. It was to be kept in constant motion, and,
+according to Plutarch, was intended to indicate the necessity of
+constant motion on the part of men--the need of being often shaken by
+fierce trials and agitations when they become morbid or indolent.--ED.
+
+[49] Diana is represented as driving the chariot of the moon, as Apollo
+that of the sun. Mythology states that while enlightening the earth as
+Luna, the moon, she beheld the hunter Endymion sleeping in the forest.
+With her rays she kissed the lips of the hunter--a favor she had never
+before bestowed on god or man.--ED.
+
+[50] These lines were written without her signature attached.--ED.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Life Without and Life Within, by Margaret Fuller
+
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