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diff --git a/9946-h/9946-h.htm b/9946-h/9946-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56214b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/9946-h/9946-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9234 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, Number 59, September, 1862, by Various</title> +<meta HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- + /* Style Definitions */ + p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal + {margin-top:6.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +span.MsoEndnoteReference + {} +p.MsoEndnoteText, li.MsoEndnoteText, div.MsoEndnoteText + {margin-top:6.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.BlockQuote, li.BlockQuote, div.BlockQuote + {margin-top:6.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:.3in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt; + font-size:90%;} +p.Chapter, li.Chapter, div.Chapter + {margin-top:48.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.ChapterDescription, li.ChapterDescription, div.ChapterDescription + {margin-top:24.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.Section, li.Section, div.Section + {margin-top:24.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.TablePlainText, li.TablePlainText, div.TablePlainText + {margin:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.PoemIndent4, li.PoemIndent4, div.PoemIndent4 + {margin-top:0in; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:.4in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Courier New";} +p.Poem, li.Poem, div.Poem + {margin:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.Poemnewstanza, li.Poemnewstanza, div.Poemnewstanza + {margin-top:12.0pt; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:0in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.PoemIndent2, li.PoemIndent2, div.PoemIndent2 + {margin-top:0in; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:.2in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.Poemspecial1, li.Poemspecial1, div.Poemspecial1 + {margin-top:0in; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:3.5in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt;} +p.Drama, li.Drama, div.Drama + {margin-top:0in; + margin-right:0in; + margin-bottom:0in; + margin-left:.4in; + margin-bottom:.0001pt; + text-indent:-.4in;} +img.fullpage + {width: 80%; + height: auto; + } +img.halfpage + {width: 40%; + height: auto; + float: left; + clear: left} + +ins + {text-decoration:none;} +span.msoIns + {font-style:italic;} +span.msoDel + {text-decoration:line-through; + color:red;} + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, Number 59, +September, 1862, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, Number 59, September, 1862 + +Author: Various + +Posting Date: November 12, 2011 [EBook #9946] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: November 3, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, SEPTEMBER 1862 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, David Kline, and Project +Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, Number 59, September, 1862, by Various</h1> + + +<br> +<hr> +<div class=Section1> + +<p class=Section>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</p> + +<p class=Section>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</p> + +<p class=Section>VOL. X—SEPTEMBER, 1862.—NO. LIX.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>DAVID GAUNT.</p> + +<p class=Section>Was ihr den Geist <span lang=FR>der</span><span lang=FR> </span>Zeiten +heisst, <span lang=ES-TRAD>Das</span><span lang=ES-TRAD> </span>ist im Grund <span +lang=FR>der</span><span lang=FR> </span>Herren eigner Geist.—FAUST</p> + +<p class=Section>PART I.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What kind of sword, do you think, was that which old +Christian had in that famous fight of his with Apollyon, long ago? He cut the +fiend to the marrow with it, you remember, at last; though the battle went +hardly with him, too, for a time. Some of his blood, Banyan says, is on the +stones of the valley to this day. That is a vague record of the combat between +the man and the dragon in that strange little valley, with its perpetual +evening twilight and calm, its meadows crusted with lilies, its herd-boy with +his quiet song, close upon the precincts of hell. It fades back, the valley and +the battle, dim enough, from the sober freshness of this summer morning. Look +out of the window here, at the hubbub of the early streets, the freckled +children racing past to school, the dewy shimmer of yonder willows in the +sunlight, like drifts of pale green vapor. Where is Apollyon? does he put +himself into flesh and blood, as then, nowadays? And the sword which Christian +used, like a man, in his deed of derring-do?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Reading the quaint history, just now, I have a mind to tell +you a modern story. It is not long: only how, a few months ago, a poor +itinerant, and a young girl, (like these going by with baskets on their arms,) +who lived up in these Virginia hills, met Evil in their lives, and how it fared +with them: how they thought that they were in the Valley of Humiliation, that +they were Christian, and Rebellion and Infidelity Apollyon; the different ways +they chose to combat him; the weapons they used. I can tell you that; but you +do not know—do you?—what kind of sword old Christian used, or where +it is, or whether its edge is rusted.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I must not stop to ask more, for these war-days are short, +and the story might be cold before you heard it.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A brick house, burrowed into the side of a hill, with red +gleams of light winking out of the windows in a jolly way into the winter's +night: wishing, one might fancy, to cheer up the hearts of the freezing stables +and barn and hen-house that snuggled about the square yard, trying to keep +warm. The broad-backed old hill (<span lang=FR>Scofield's</span> Hill, a famous +place for papaws in summer) guards them tolerably well; but then, house and +barn and hill <span lang=FR>lie</span> up among the snowy peaks of the +Virginian Alleghanies, and you know how they would chill and awe the air. +People away down yonder in the river-bottoms see these peaks dim and far-shining, +as though they cut through thick night; but we, up among them here, find the +night wide, filled with a pale starlight that has softened for itself out of +the darkness overhead a great space up towards heaven.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The snow lay deep, on this night of which I tell you,—a +night somewhere near the first of January in this year. Two old men, a white +and a black, who were rooting about the farm-yard from stable to fodder-rack, +waded through deep drifts of it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Tell yer, Mars' Joe," said the negro, banging the +stable-door, "dat hoss ort n't <span lang=FR>ter</span> risk um's bones <span +lang=FR>dis</span> night. Ef yer go <span lang=FR>ter</span> de Yankee meetin', +Coly kern't tote yer."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Well, well, Uncle Bone, that's enough," said old Scofield +testily, looking through the stall-window at the horse, with a face anxious +enough to show that the dangers of foundering for Coly and for the Union were +of about equal importance in his mind.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A heavily built old fellow, big-jointed, dull-eyed, with a +short, black pipe in his mouth, going about peering into sheds and out-houses,—the +same routine he and Bone had gone through every night for thirty years,—joking, +snarling, cursing, alternately. The cramped old routine, dogged, if you choose +to call it so, was enough for him: you could tell that by a glance at his +earnest, stolid face; you could see that it need not take Prospero's Ariel +forty minutes to put a girdle about this man's world: ten would do it, tie up +the farm, and the dead and live Scofields, and the Democratic party, with an +ideal reverence for "Firginya" under all. As for the Otherwhere, +outside of Virginia, he heeded it as much as a Hindoo does the turtle on which +the earth rests. For which you shall not sneer at Joe Scofield, or the Pagan. +How wide is your own "sacred soil"?—the creed, government, bit +of truth, other human heart, self, perhaps, to which your soul roots itself +vitally,—like a cuttle-fish sucking to an inch of rock,—and drifts +out palsied feelers of recognition into the ocean of God's universe, just as +languid as the aforesaid <span lang=FR>Hindoo's</span> hold upon the <span +lang=FR>Kalpas</span> of emptiness underneath the turtle?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Joe Scofield sowed the fields and truck-patch,—sold +the crops down in Wheeling; every year he got some little, hardly earned +snugness for the house (he and Bone had been born in it, their grandfathers had +lived there together). Bone was his slave; of course, they thought, how should +it be otherwise? The old man's daughter was Dode Scofield; his negro was Bone Scofield, +in degree. Joe went to the Methodist church on Sundays; he hurrahed for the +Democratic candidate: it was a necessity for Whigs to be defeated; it was a +necessity for Papists to go to hell. He had a tight grip on these truths, which +were born, one might say, with his blood; his life grew out of them. So much of +the world was certain,—but outside? It was rather vague there: Yankeedom +was a mean-soiled country, whence came clocks, teachers, peddlers, and +infidelity; and the English,—it was an American's birthright to jeer at +the English.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We call this a narrow life, prate in the North of our +sympathy with the universal man, don't we? And so we extend a stomachic +greeting to our Spanish brother that sends us wine, and a bow from our organ of +ideality to Italy for beauty incarnate in Art,—see the Georgian +slaveholder only through the eyes of the cowed negro at his feet, and give a +dime on Sunday to send the gospel to the heathen, who will burn forever, we +think, if it never is preached to them. What of your sympathy with the +universal man, when I tell you Scofield was a Rebel?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>His syllogisms on this point were clear, to himself. For +slavery to exist in a country where free government was put on trial was a +tangible <span lang=FR>lie</span>, that had worked a moral divorce between +North and South. Slavery was the vital breath of the South; if she chose to go +out and keep it, had not freemen the right to choose their own government? To +bring her back by <span lang=FR>carnage</span> was simply the old game of regal +tyranny on republican cards. So his head settled it: as for his heart,—his +neighbors' houses were in ashes, burned by the Yankees; his son lay dead at Manassas. +He died to keep them back, didn't he? "Geordy boy," he used to call +him,—worth a dozen puling girls: since he died, the old man had never +named his name. Scofield was a Rebel in every bitter drop of his heart's blood.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He hurried to the house to prepare to go to the Union +meeting. He had a reason for going. The Federal troops held Romney then, a +neighboring village, and he knew many of the officers would be at this meeting. +There was a party of Confederates in Blue's Gap, a mountain-fastness near by, +and Scofield had heard a rumor that the Unionists would attack them to-morrow +morning: he meant to try and find out the truth of it, so as to give the boys +warning to be ready, and, maybe, lend them a helping hand. Only for <span +lang=FR>Dode's</span> sake, he would have been in the army long ago.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He stopped on the porch to clean his shoes, for the floor +was newly scrubbed, and Miss Scofield was a tidy housekeeper, and had, besides, +a temper as hot and ready to light as her father's pipe. The old man stopped +now, half chuckling, peeping in at the window to see if all was clear within. +But you must not think for this that <span lang=FR>Dode's</span> temper was the +bugbear of the house,—though the girl herself thought it was, and shed +some of the bitterest tears of her life over it. Just a feverish blaze in the +blood, caught from some old dead grandfather, that burst out now and then.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Dode, not being a genius, could not christen it morbid +sensibility; but as she had a childish fashion of tracing things to commonplace +causes, whenever she felt her face grow hot easily, or her throat choke up as +men's do when they swear, she concluded that her liver was inactive, and her +soul was tired of sitting at her Master's feet, like Mary. So she used to take +longer walks before breakfast, and cry sharply, incessantly, in her heart, as +the man did who was tainted with leprosy, "Lord, help me!" And the +Lord always did help her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>My story is of Dode; so I must tell you that these passion-fits +were the only events of her life. For the rest, she washed and sewed and +ironed. If her heart and brain needed more than this, she was cheerful in spite +of their hunger. Almost all of God's favorites among women, before their life-work +is given them, pass through such hunger,—seasons of dull, hot inaction, +fierce struggles to tame and bind to some unfitting work the power within. +Generally, they are tried thus in their youth,—just as the old aspirants +for knighthood were condemned to a night of solitude and prayer before the day +of action. This girl was going through her probation with manly-souled bravery.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She came out on the porch now, to help her father on with +his coat, and to tie his spatterdashes. You could not see her in the dark, of +course; but you would not wonder, if you felt her hand, or heard her speak, +that the old man liked to touch her, as everybody did,—spoke to her +gently: her own voice, did I say? was so earnest and rich,—hinted at +unsounded depths of love and comfort, such as utter themselves in some +unfashionable women's voices and eyes. Theodora, or -dosia, or some such heavy +name, had been hung on her when she was born,—nobody remembered what: +people always called her Dode, so as to bring her closer, as it were, and to +fancy themselves akin to her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Bone, going in, had left the door ajar, and the red +firelight shone out brightly on her, where she was stooping. Nature had given +her a body white, strong, and womanly,—broad, soft shoulders, for +instance, hands slight and nervous, dark, slow eyes. The Devil never would have +had the courage to tempt Eve, if she had looked at him with eyes as tender and +honest as Dode <span lang=FR>Scofield's</span>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Yet, although she had so many friends, she impressed you as +being a shy home-woman. That was the reason her father did not offer to take +her to the meeting, though half the women in the neighborhood would be there.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She a'n't smart, my Dode," he used to say,—"'s +got no public sperrit."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He said as much to young Gaunt, the Methodist preacher, that +very day, knowing that he thought of the girl as a wife, and wishing to be +honest as to her weaknesses and heresies. For Dode, being the only creature in +the United States who thought she came into the world to learn and not to +teach, had an odd habit of trying to pick the good lesson out of everybody: the +Yankees, the Rebels, the Devil himself, she thought, must have some purpose of +good, if she could only get at it. God's creatures alike. She durst not bring +against the foul fiend himself a "railing accusation," being as timid +in judging evil as were her Master and the archangel Michael. An old-fashioned +timidity, of course: people thought Dode a time-server, or "a bit +daft."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She don't take sides sharp in this war," her +father said to Gaunt, "my little girl; 'n fact, she isn't keen till put +her soul intill anythin' but lovin'. She's a pore Democrat, David, an' not a +strong Methody,—allays got somethin' till say fur t' other side, Papishers +an' all. An' she gets religion quiet. But it's the real thing,"—watching +his hearer's face with an angry suspicion. "It's out of a clean well, +David, I say!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I hope so, Brother Scofield,"—doubtfully, +shaking his head.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The conversation had taken place just after dinner. Scofield +looked upon Gaunt as one of the saints upon earth, but he "danged +him" after that once or twice to himself for doubting the girl; and when +Bone, who had heard it, "guessed Mist' Dode 'd never fling herself away on +sich whinin' pore-white trash," his master said nothing in reproof.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He rumpled her hair fondly, as she stood by him now on the +porch.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"David Gaunt was in the house,—he had been there +all the evening," she said,—a worried heat on her face. "Should +not she call him to go to the meeting?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Jest as <i>you</i> please, Dode; jest as you +please."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She should not be vexed. And yet—What if Gaunt did not +quite appreciate his girl, see how deep-hearted she was, how heartsome a thing +to look at even when she was asleep? He loved her, David did, as well as so +holy a man could love anything carnal. And it would be better, if Dode were +married; a chance shot might take him off any day, and then—what? She +didn't know enough to teach; the farm was mortgaged; and she had no other +lovers. She was cold-blooded in that sort of liking,—did not attract the +men: thinking, with the scorn coarse-grained men have for reticent-hearted +women, what a contrast she was to her mother. <i>She</i> was the right sort,—full-lipped, +and a cooing voice for everybody, and such winning blue eyes! But, after all, Dode +was the kind of woman to anchor to; it was "Get out of my way!" with +her mother, as with all milky, blue-eyed women.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The old man fidgeted, lingered, stuffing "old Lynchburg" +into his pipe, (his face was dyed saffron, and smelt of tobacco,) glad to feel, +when Dode tied his fur cap, how quick and loving for him her fingers were, and +that he always had deserved they should be so. He wished the child had some +other protector to turn to than he, these war-times,—thinking uneasily of +the probable fight at Blue's Gap, though of course he knew he never was born to +be killed by a Yankee bullet. He wished she could fancy Gaunt; but if she +didn't,—that was enough.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Just then Gaunt came out of the room on to the porch, and +began loitering, in an uncertain way, up and down. A lean figure, with an +irresolute step: the baggy clothes hung on his lank limbs were butternut-dyed, +and patched besides: a Methodist itinerant in the mountains,—you know all +that means? There was nothing irresolute or shabby in <span lang=FR>Gaunt's</span> +voice, however, as he greeted the old man,—clear, thin, nervous. Scofield +looked at him wistfully.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Dunnot drive David off, Dody," he whispered; +"I think he's summat on his mind. What d'ye think's his last whimsey? Told +me he's goin' off in the mornin',—Lord knows where, nor for how long. Dody, +d'ye think?—he'll be wantin' till come back for company, belike? Well, +he's one o' <span lang=FR>th</span>' Lord's own, ef he is a bit cranky."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>An odd tenderness came into the man's jaded old face. +Whatever trust in God had got into his narrow heart among its bigotry, gross +likings and dislikings, had come there through the agency of this David Gaunt. +He felt as if he only had come into the secret place where his Maker and +himself stood face to face; thought of him, therefore, with a reverence whose +roots dug deep down below his coarseness, into his uncouth gropings after God. +Outside of this,—Gaunt had come to the mountains years before, penniless, +untaught, ragged, intent only on the gospel, which he preached with a keen, +breathless fervor. Scofield had given him a home, clothed him, felt for him +after that the condescending, curious affection which a rough barn-yard hen +might feel for its adopted poult, not yet sure if it will turn out an eagle or +a silly gull. It was a strange affinity between the lank-limbed, cloudy-brained +enthusiast at one end of the porch and the shallow-eyed, tobacco-chewing old Scofield +at the other,—but a real affinity, striking something deeper in their +natures than blood-kinship. Whether Dode shared in it was doubtful; she echoed +the "Poor David" in just the voice with which high-blooded women pity +a weak man. Her father saw it. He had better not tell her his fancy to-night +about Gaunt wishing her to be his wife.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He hallooed to him, bidding him "hap up an' come along +till see what the Yankees were about.—Go in, Dode,—you sha'n't be worrit, +child."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gaunt came closer, fastening his thin coat. A lean face, +sharpened by other conflicts than disease,—poetic, lonesome eyes, not +manly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am going," he said, looking at the girl. All +the pain and struggle of years came up in that look. She knew where he was +going: did she care? he thought She knew,—he had told her, not an hour +since, that he meant to lay down the Bible, and bring the kingdom of Jesus +nearer in another fashion: he was going to enlist in the Federal army. It was +God's cause, holy: through its success the golden year of the world would begin +on earth. Gaunt took up his sword, with his eye looking awe-struck straight to +God. The pillar of cloud, he thought, moved, as in the old time, before the +army of freedom. She knew that when he did this, for truth's sake, he put a +gulf between himself and her forever. Did she care? Did she? Would she let him +go, and make no sign?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Be quick, Gaunt," said Scofield, impatiently. +"Bone hearn tell that <span lang=FR>Dougl's</span> Palmer was in Romney to-night. +He'll be down at Blue's Gap, I reckon. He's captain now in the Lincolnite army,—one +of the hottest of the hell-hounds,—he is! Ef he comes to the house here, +as he'll likely do, I don't want till meet him."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gaunt stood silent.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He was <span lang=FR>Geordy's</span> friend, +father," said the girl, gulping back something in her throat.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Geordy? Yes. I know. It's that that hurts me," he +muttered, uncertainly. "Him an' <span lang=FR>Dougl's</span> was like +brothers once, they was!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He coughed, lit his pipe, looking in the girl's face for a +long time, anxiously, as if to find a likeness in it to some other face he +never should see again. He often had done this lately. At last, stooping, he +kissed her mouth passionately, and shuffled down the hill, trying to whistle as +be went. Kissing, through her, the boy who lay dead at Manassas: she knew that. +She leaned on the railing, looking after him until a bend in the road took him +out of sight. Then she turned into the house, with no thought to spare for the +man watching her all this while with hungry eyes. The moon, drifting from +behind a cloud, threw a sharp light on her figure, as she stood in the door-way.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Dode!" he said. "Good bye, Dode!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She shook hands, saying nothing,—then went in, and +shut the door.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gaunt turned away, and hurried down the hill, his heart +throbbing and aching against his bony side with the breathless pain which +women, and such men as he, know. Her hand was cold, as she gave it to him; some +pain had chilled her blood: was it because she bade him good-bye forever, then? +Was it? He knew it was not: his instincts were keen as those of the old Pythoness, +who read the hearts of men and nations by surface-trifles. Gaunt joined the old +man, and began talking loosely and vaguely, as was his wont,—of the bad +road, and the snow-water oozing through his boots,—not knowing what he +said. She did not care; he would not cheat himself: when he told her to-night +what he meant to do, she heard it with a cold, passive disapproval,—with +that steely look in her dark eyes that shut him out from her. "You are +sincere, I see; but you are not true to yourself or to God": that was all +she said. She would have said the same, if he had gone with her brother. It was +a sudden stab, but he forgave her: how could she know that God Himself had laid +this blood-work on him, or the deathly fight his soul had waged against it? She +did not know,—nor care. Who did?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The man plodded doggedly through the melting snow, with a +keener sense of the cold biting through his threadbare waistcoat, of the +solitude and wrong that life had given him,—his childish eyes turning to +the gray depth of night, almost fierce in their questioning,—thinking +what a failure his life had been. Thirty-five years of struggle with poverty +and temptation! Ever since that day in the blacksmith's shop in Norfolk, when +he had heard the call of the Lord to go and preach His word, had he not striven +to choke down his carnal nature,—to shut his eyes to all beauty and love,—to +unmake himself, by self-denial, voluntary pain? Of what use was it? To-night +his whole nature rebelled against this <span lang=FR>carnage</span> before him,—his +duty; scorned it as brutal; cried out for a life as peaceful and meek as that +of Jesus, (as if that were not an absurdity in a time like this,) for +happiness, for this woman's love; demanded it, as though these things were its +right!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The man had a genial, childish temperament, given to woo and +bind him, in a thousand simple, silly ways, into a likeness of that Love that +holds the world, and that gave man no higher hero-model than a trustful, happy +child. It was the birthright of this haggard wretch going down the hill, to +receive quick messages from God through every voice of the world,—to +understand them, as few men did, by his poet's soul,—through love, or +color, or music, or keen healthy pain. Very many openings for him to know God +through the mask of matter. He had shut them; being a Calvinist, and a +dyspeptic, (Dyspepsia is twin-tempter with Satan, you know,) sold his God-given +birthright, like Esau, for a hungry, bitter mess of man's doctrine. He came to +loathe the world, the abode of sin; loathed himself, the chief of sinners; +mapped out a heaven in some corner of the universe, where he and the souls of +his persuasion, panting with the terror of being scarcely saved, should find +refuge. The God he made out of his own bigoted and sour idea, and foisted on +himself and his hearers as Jesus, would not be as merciful in the Judgment as +Gaunt himself would like to be,—far from it. So He did not satisfy him. +Sometimes, thinking of the pure instincts thwarted in every heart,—of the +noble traits in damned souls, sent hellwards by birth or barred into temptation +by society, a vision flashed before him of some scheme of the universe where +all matter and mind were rising, slowly, through the ages, to eternal life. +"Even so in Christ should all be made alive." All matter, all mind, +rising in degrees towards the Good? made order, infused by God? And God was +Love. Why not trust this Love to underlie even these social riddles, then? He +thrust out the Devil's whisper, barred the elect into their narrow heaven, and +tried to be content.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Douglas Palmer used to say that all Gaunt needed to make him +a sound Christian was education and fresh meat. Gaunt forgave it as a worldly +scoff. And Palmer, just always, thought, that, if Christ was just, He would +remember it was not altogether <span lang=FR>Gaunt's</span> fault, nor that of +other bigots, if they had not education nor spiritual fresh meat. Creeds are +not always "good providers."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The two men had a two-miles' walk before them. They talked +little, as they went. Gaunt had not told the old man that he was going into the +Northern army: how could he? George's dead face was between them, whenever he +thought of it. Still, Scofield was suspicious as to <span lang=FR>Gaunt's</span> +politics: he never talked to him on the subject, therefore, and to-night did +not tell him of his intention to go over to Blue's Gap to warn the boys, and, +if they were outnumbered, to stay and take his luck with them. He nor Dode +never told Gaunt a secret: the man's brain was as leaky as a sponge.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He don't take enough account o' honor, an' the like, +but it's for tryin' till keep his soul right," he used to say, excusingly, +to Dode. "That's it! He minds me o' <span lang=FR>th</span>' man that +lived up on <span lang=FR>th</span>' pillar, prayin'."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The Lord never made people to live on pillars," Dode +said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The old man looked askance at <span lang=FR>Gaunt's</span> +worn face, as he trotted along beside him, thinking how pure it was. What had +he to do with this foul slough, we were all mired in? What if the Yankees did +come, like incarnate devils, to thieve and burn and kill? This man would say +"that ye resist not evil." He lived back there, pure and meek, with +Jesus, in the old time. He would not dare to tell him he meant to fight with +the boys in the Gap before morning. He wished he stood as near to Christ as +this young man had got; he wished to God this revenge and bloodthirstiness were +out of him; sometimes he felt as if a devil possessed him, since George died. +The old fellow choked down a groan in the whiffs of his pipe.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><i>Was</i> the young man back there, in the old time, +following the Nazarene? The work of blood Scofield was taking up for the +moment, he took up, grappled with, tried to put his strength into. Doing this, +his true life lay drained, loathsome, and bare. For the rest, he wished Dode +had cared,—only a little. If one lay stabbed on some of these hills, it +would be hard to think nobody cared: thinking of the old mother he had buried, +years before. Yet Dode suffered: the man was generous to his heart's core,—forgot +his own want in pity for her. What could it have been that pained her, as he +came away? Her father had spoken of Palmer. <i>That</i>? His ruled heart leaped +with a savage, healthy throb of jealousy.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Something he saw that moment made him stop short. The road +led straight through the snow-covered hills to the church where the meeting was +to be held. Only one man was in sight, coming towards them, on horseback. A +sudden gleam of light showed him to them clearly. A small, middle-aged man, +lithe, muscular, with fair hair, dressed in some shaggy dark uniform and a felt +hat. Scofield stopped.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It's Palmer!" he said, with an oath that sounded +like a cry.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The sight of the man brought George before him, living +enough to wring his heart He knocked a log off the worm-fence, and stepped over +into the field.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I'm goin', David. To think o' him turnin' traitor to +Old Virginia! I'll not bide here till meet him."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Brother!" said Gaunt, reprovingly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Don't hold me, Gaunt! Do you want me till curse my +boy's old chum?"—his voice hoarse, choking.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He is George's friend still"—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I know, Gaunt, I know. God forgi' me! But—let me +go, I say!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He broke away, and went across the field.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gaunt waited, watching the man coming slowly towards him. +Could it be he whom Dode loved,—this Palmer? A doubter? an infidel? He +had told her this to-day. A mere flesh-and-brain machine, made for the world, +and no uses in him for heaven!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Poor Gaunt! no wonder he eyed the man with a spiteful +hatred, as he waited for him, leaning against the fence. With his subtle Gallic +brain, his physical spasms of languor and energy, his keen instincts that +uttered themselves to the last syllable always, heedless of all decencies of +custom, no wonder that the man with every feminine, unable nerve in his body +rebelled against this Palmer. It was as natural as for a delicate animal to +rebel against and hate and submit to man. Palmer's very horse, he thought, had +caught the spirit of its master, and put down its hoofs with calm assurance of +power.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Coming up at last, Gaunt listened sullenly, while the other +spoke in a quiet, hearty fashion.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"They tell me you are to be one of us to-night," +Palmer said, cordially. "Dyke showed me your name on the enlistment-roll: +your motto after it, was it? 'For God and my right.' That's the gist of the +whole matter, David, I think, eh?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, I'm right. I think I am. God knows I do!"—his +vague eyes wandering off, playing with the horse's mane uncertainly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Palmer read his face keenly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Of course you are," he said, speaking gently as +he would to a woman. "I'll find a place and work for you before +morning."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"So soon, Palmer?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Don't look at the blood and foulness of the war, boy! +Keep the cause in view, every moment. We secure the right of self-government +for all ages: think of that! 'God,'—His cause, you know?—and 'your +right,' Haven't you warrant to take life to defend your right—from the +Christ you believe in? Eh?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No. But I know"—Gaunt held his hand to his +forehead as if it ached—"we have to come to brute force at last to +conquer the right. Christianity is not enough. I've reasoned it over, and"—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yet you look troubled. Well, we'll talk it over again. +You've worked your brain too hard to be clear about anything just now,"—looking +down on him with the questioning pity of a surgeon examining a cancer. "I +must go on now, David. I'll meet you at the church in an hour."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You are going to the house, Palmer?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes. Good night."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gaunt drew back his hand, glancing at the cold, tranquil +face, the mild blue eyes.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Good night,"—following him with his eyes as +he rode away.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>An Anglo-Saxon, with every birthmark of that slow, +inflexible race. He would make love philosophically, Gaunt sneered. A made man. +His thoughts and soul, inscrutable as they were, were as much the accretion of +generations of culture and reserve as was the chalk in his bones or the glowless +courage in his slow blood. It was like coming in contact with summer water to +talk to him; but underneath was—what? Did Dode know? Had he taken her in, +and showed her his unread heart? Dode?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>How stinging cold it was!—looking up drearily into the +drifting heaps of gray. What a wretched, paltry balk the world was! What a +noble part he played in it!—taking out his pistol. Well, he could pull a +trigger, and let out some other sinner's life; that was all the work God +thought he was fit for. Thinking of Dode all the time. <i>He</i> knew her! <i>He</i> +could have summered her in love, if she would but have been passive and happy! +He asked no more of her than that. Poor, silent, passionate Dode! No one knew +her as he knew her! What were that man's cold blue eyes telling her now at the +house? It mattered nothing to him.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He went across the cornfield to the church, his thin coat +flapping in the wind, looking at his rusty pistol with a shudder.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Dode shut the door. Outside lay the winter's night, snow, +death, the war. She shivered, shut them out. None of her nerves enjoyed pain, +as some women's do. Inside,—you call it cheap and mean, this room? Yet +her father called it <span lang=FR>Dode's</span> snuggery; he thought no little +nest in the world was so clean and warm. He never forgot to leave his pipe +outside, (though she coaxed him not to do it,) for fear of "silin' the +air." Every evening he came in after he had put on his green dressing-gown +and slippers, and she read the paper to him. It was quite a different hour of +the day from all of the rest: sitting, looking stealthily around while she +read, delighted to see how cozy he had made his little girl,—how pure the +pearl-stained walls were, how white the matting. He never went down to Wheeling +with the crops without bringing something back for the room, stinting himself +to do it. Her brother had had the habit, too, since he was a boy, of bringing everything +pretty or pleasant he found to his sister; he had a fancy that he was making +her life bigger and more heartsome by it, and would have it all right after a +while. So it ended, you see, that everything in the room had a meaning for the +girl,—so many mile-stones in her father and <span lang=FR>Geordy's</span> +lives. Besides, though Dode was no artist, had not what you call taste, other +than in being clean, yet every common thing the girl touched seemed to catch +her strong, soft vitality, and grow alive. Bone had bestowed upon her the +antlers of a deer which he had killed,—the one great trophy of his life; +(she put them over the mantel-shelf, where he could rejoice his soul over them +every time he brought wood to the fire;) last fall she had hung wreaths of +forest-leaves about them, and now they glowed and flashed back the snow-light, +in indignant life, purple and scarlet and flame, with no thought of dying; the +very water in the vases on the table turned into the silver roots of hyacinths +that made the common air poetic with perfume; the rough wire-baskets filled +with mould, which she hung in the windows, grew living, and welled up, and ran +over into showers of moss, and trailing wreaths of ivy and cypress-vine, and a +brood of the merest flakes of roses, which held the hot crimson of so many +summers gone that they could laugh in the teeth of the winter outside, and did +do it, until it seemed like a perfect sham and a jest.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The wood-fire was clear, just now, when Dode came in; the +little room was fairly alive, palpitated crimson; in the dark corners, under +the tables and chairs, the shadows tried not to be black, and glowed into a +soft maroon; even the pale walls flushed, cordial and friendly. Dode was glad +of it; she hated dead, ungrateful colors: grays and browns belonged to thin, +stingy duty-lives, to people who are patient under life, as a perpetual +imposition, and, as Bone says, "gets into heben by the skin o' their +teeth." <span lang=FR>Dode's</span> color was dark blue: you know that +means in an earthly life stern truth, and a tenderness as true: she wore it to-night, +as she generally did, to tell God she was alive, and thanked Him for being +alive. Surely the girl was made for to-day; she never missed the work or joy of +a moment here in dreaming of a yet ungiven life, as sham, lazy women do. You +would think that, if you had seen her standing there in the still light, +motionless, yet with latent life in every limb. There was not a dead atom in +her body: something within, awake, immortal, waited, eager to speak every +moment in the coming color on her cheek, the quiver of her lip, the flashing +words or languor of her eye. Her auburn hair, even, at times, lightened and +darkened.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She stood, now, leaning her head on the window, waiting. Was +she keeping, like the fire-glow, a still, warm welcome for somebody? It was a +very homely work she had been about, you will think. She had made a panful of +white cream-crackers, and piled them on a gold-rimmed China plate, (the only +one she had,) and brought down from the cupboard a bottle of her raspberry-cordial. +Douglas Palmer and George used to like those cakes better than anything else +she made: she remembered, when they were starting out to hunt, how Geordy would +put his curly head over the gate and call out, "Sis! are you in a good-humor? +Have some of your famous cakes for supper, that's a good girl!" Douglas +Palmer was coming to-night, and she had baked them, as usual,—stopping to +cry now and then, thinking of George. She could not help it, when she was +alone. Her father never knew it. She had to be cheerful for herself and him +too, when he was there.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Perhaps Douglas would not remember about the crackers, after +all?—with the blood heating and chilling in her face, as she looked out +of the window, and then at the clock,—her nervous fingers shaking, as she +arranged them on the plate. She wished she had some other way of making him +welcome; but what could poor Dode do? She could not talk to him, had read +nothing but the Bible and Jay's "Meditations"; she could not show +glimpses of herself, as most American women can, in natural, dramatic words. +Palmer sang for her,—sometimes, Schubert's ballads, Mendelssohn: she +could not understand the words, of course; she only knew that his soul seemed +to escape through the music, and come to her own. She had a strange comprehension +of music, inherited from the old grandfather who left her his temper,--that +supernatural gift, belonging to but few souls among those who love harmony, to +understand and accept its meaning. She could not play or sing; she looked often +in the dog's eyes, wondering if its soul felt as dumb and full as hers; but she +could not sing. If she could, what a story she would have told in a wordless +way to this man who was coming! All she could do to show that he was welcome +was to make crackers. Cooking is a sensual, <span lang=EN-GB>grovelling</span> +utterance of feeling, you think? Yet, considering the drift of most women's +lives, one fancies that as pure and deep love syllables itself every day in +beefsteaks as once in Sapphic odes. It is a natural expression for our sex, +too, somehow. Your wife may keep step with you in keen sympathy, in brain and +soul; but if she does not know whether you like muffins or toast best for +breakfast, her love is not the kind for this world, nor the best kind for any.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She waited, looking out at the gray road. He would not come +so late?—her head beginning to ache. The room was too hot. She went into +her chamber, and began to comb her hair back; it fell in rings down her pale +cheeks,—her lips were crimson,—her brown eyes shone soft, +expectant; she leaned her head down, smiling, thanking God for her beauty, with +all her heart. Was that a step?—hurrying back. Only Coly stamping in the +stable. It was eight o'clock. The woman's heart kept time to the slow ticking +of the clock, with a sick thudding, growing heavier every moment. He had been +in the mountains but once since the war began. It was only George he came to +see? She brought out her work and began to sew. He would not come: only George +was fit to be his friend. Why should he heed her poor old father, or her?—with +the undefinable awe of an unbred mind for his power and wealth of culture. And +yet—something within her at the moment rose up royal—his equal. He +knew her, as she might be! Between them there was something deeper than the +shallow kind greeting they gave the world,—recognition. She stood nearest +to him,—she only! If sometimes she had grown meanly jealous of the +thorough-bred, made women, down in the town yonder, his friends, in her secret +soul she knew she was his peer,—she only! And he knew it. Not that she +was not weak in mind or will beside him, but she loved him, as a man can be +loved but once. She loved him,—that was all!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She hardly knew if he cared for her. He told her once that +he loved her; there was a half-betrothal; but that was long ago. She sat, her +work fallen on her lap, going over, as women will, for the thousandth time, the +simple story, what he said, and how he looked, finding in every hackneyed +phrase some new, divine meaning. The same story; yet Betsey finds it new by +your kitchen-fire to-night, as Gretchen read it in those wondrous pearls of +Faust's!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Surely he loved her that day! though the words were +surprised, half-accident: she was young, and he was poor, so there must be no +more of it then. The troubles began just after, and he went into the army. She +had seen him but once since, and he said nothing then, looked nothing. It is +true they had not been alone, and he thought perhaps she knew all: a word once +uttered for him was fixed in fate. <i>She</i> would not have thought the story +old or certain, if he told it to her forever. But he was coming to-night!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Dode was one of those women subject to sudden revulsions of +feeling. She remembered now, what in the hurry and glow of preparing his +welcome she had crushed out of sight, that it was better he should not come,—that, +if he did come, loyal and true, she must put him back, show him the great gulf +that lay between them. She had strengthened herself for months to do it. It +must be done to-night. It was not the division the war made, nor her father's +anger, that made the bar between them. Her love would have <span lang=FR>borne</span> +that down. There was something it could not bear down. Palmer was a doubter, an +infidel. What this meant to the girl, we cannot tell; her religion was not +ours. People build their faith on Christ, as a rock,—a factitious aid. +She found Him in her life, long ago, when she was a child, and her soul grew +out from Him. He was a living Jesus to her, not a dead one. That was why she +had a healthy soul. Pain was keener to her than to us; the filth, injustice, bafflings +in the world,—they hurt her; she never glossed them over as +"necessity," or shirked them as we do: she cried hot, weak tears, for +instance, over the wrongs of the slaves about her, her old father's ignorance, +her own cramped life; but she never said for these things, "Does God still +live?" She saw, close to the earth, the atmosphere of the completed work, +the next step upward,—the kingdom of that Jesus; the world lay in it, +swathed in bands of pain and wrong and effort, growing, unconscious, to +perfected humanity. She had faith in the Recompense, she thought faith would +bring it right down into earth, and she tried to do it in a practical way. She +did do it: a curious fact for your theology, which I go out of the way of the +story to give you,—a peculiar power belonging to this hot-tempered girl,—an +anomaly in psychology, but you will find it in the lives of Jung Stilling and +St. John. This was it: she and the people about her needed many things, +temporal and spiritual: her Christ being alive, and not a dead sacrifice and +example alone, whatever was needed she asked for, and it was always given her. <i>Always</i>. +I say it in the full strength of meaning. I wish every human soul could +understand the lesson; not many preachers would dare to teach it to them. It +was a commonplace matter with her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Now do you see what it cost her to know that Palmer was an +infidel? Could she marry him? Was it a sin to love him? And yet, could <i>she</i> +enter heaven, he left out? The soul of the girl that God claimed, and the Devil +was scheming for, had taken up this fiery trial, and fought with it savagely. +She thought she had determined; she would give him up. But—he was coming! +he was coming! Why, she forgot everything in that, as if it were delirium. She +hid her face in her hands. It seemed as if the world, the war, faded back, +leaving this one human soul alone with herself. She sat silent, the fire +charring lower into glooming red shadow. You shall not look into the passion of +a woman's heart.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She rose at last, with the truth, as Gaunt had taught it to +her, full before her, that it would be crime to make compact with sin or a +sinner. She went out on the porch, looking no longer to the road, but up to the +uncertain sky. Poor, simple Dode! So long she had hid the thought of this man +in her woman's breast, clung to it for all strength, all tenderness! It stood +up now before her,—Evil. Gaunt told her to-night that to love him was to +turn her back on the cross, to be traitor to that blood on Calvary. Was it? She +found no answer in the deadened sky, or in her own heart. She would give him +up, then? She looked up, her face slowly whitening. "I love him," she +said, as one who had a right to speak to God. That was all. So, in old times, a +soul from out of the darkness of His judgments faced the Almighty, secure in +its own right: "Till I die I will not remove mine integrity from me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Yet Dode was a weak woman; the trial went home to the very +marrow. She stood by the wooden railing, gathering the snow off of it, putting +it to her hot forehead, not knowing what she did. Her brain was dull, worn-out, +she thought; it ached. She wished she could sleep, with a vacant glance at the +thick snow-clouds, and turning to go in. There was a sudden step on the path,—he +was coming! She would see him once more,—once! God could not deny her +that! her very blood leaping into hot life.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Theodora!" (He never called her the familiar +"Dode," as the others did.) "Why, what ails you, child?"—in +his quiet, cordial fashion, "Is this the welcome you give me? The very +blood shivers in your hand! Your lips are blue!"—opening the door +for her to go in, and watching her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>His eye was more that of a physician than a lover, she felt, +and cowered down into a chair he put before the fire for her,—sheltering +her face with her hands, that he might not see how white it was, and despise +her. Palmer stood beside her, looking at her quietly; she had exhausted herself +by some excitement, in her old fashion; he was used to these spasms of bodily +languor,—a something he pitied, but could not comprehend. It was an odd +symptom of the thoroughness with which her life was welded into his, that he +alone knew her as weak, hysteric, needing help at times. Gaunt or her father +would have told you her nerves were as strong as a ploughman's.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you been in a passion, my child?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She chafed her hands, loathing herself that she could not +deaden down their shiver or the stinging pain in her head. What were these +things at a time like this? Her physician was taking a different diagnosis of +her disease from his first. He leaned over her, his face flushing, his voice +lower, hurried.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Were you disappointed? Did you watch—for +me?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I watched for you, Douglas,"—trying to +rise.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He took her hand and helped her up, then let it fall: he +never held <span lang=FR>Dode's</span><span lang=FR> </span>hand, or touched +her hair, as Gaunt did.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I watched for you,—I have something to say to +you,"—steadying her voice.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Not to-night," with a tenderness that startled +one, coming from lips so thin and critical. "You are not well. You have +some hard pain there, and you want to make it real. Let it sleep. You were +watching for me. Let me have just that silly thought to take with me. Look up, +Theodora. I want the hot color on your cheek again, and the look in your eye I +saw there once,—only once. Do you remember?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I remember,"—her face crimson, her eyes +flashing with tears. "Douglas, Douglas, never speak of that to me! I dare +not think of it. Let me tell you what I want to say. It will soon be +over."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will not, Theodora," he said, coolly. "See +now, child! You are not your healthy self to-night. You have been too much +alone. This solitude down there in your heart is eating itself out in some +morbid whim. I saw it in your eye. Better it had forced itself into anger, as +usual."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She did not speak. He took her hand and seated her beside +him, talked to her in the same careless, gentle way, watching her keenly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Did you ever know the meaning of your name? I think of +it often,—<i>The gift of God,—Theodora</i>. Surely, if there be +such an all-embracing Good, He has no more helpful gift than a woman such as +you might be."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She looked up, smiling.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Might be? That is not"——</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lover-like? No. Yet, Dode, I think sometimes Eve might +have been such a one as you,—the germ of all life. Think how you loathe +death, inaction, pain; the very stem you thrust into earth catches vitality +from your fingers, and grows, as for no one else."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She knew, through all, that, though his light words were +spoken to soothe her, they masked a strength of feeling that she dared not +palter with, a something that would die out of his nature when his faith in her +died, never to live again.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Eve fell," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"So would you, alone. You are falling now, morbid, +irritable. Wait until you come into the sunshine. Why, Theodora, you will not +know yourself, the broad, warm, unopened nature."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>His voice faltered; he stooped nearer to her, drew her hand +into his own.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There will be some June days in our lives, little one, +for you and me,"—his tone husky, broken,—"when this blood-work +is off my hand, when I can take you. My years have been hard, bare. You know, +child. You know how my body and brain have been worn out for others. I am free +now. When the war is over, I will conquer a new world for you and me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She tried to draw away from him.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I need no more. I am contented. For the future,—God +has it, Douglas."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"But my hand is on it!" he said, his eye growing +hard. "And you are mine, Theodora!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He put his hand on her head: he never had touched her before +this evening: he stroked back her hair with an unsteady touch, but as if it and +she belonged to him, inalienable, secure. The hot blood flushed into her +cheeks, resentful. He smiled quietly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You will bring life to me," he whispered. +"And I will bleach out this anger, these morbid shadows of the lonesome +days,—sun them out with—love."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There was a sudden silence. Gaunt felt the intangible calm +that hung about this man: this woman saw beneath it flashes of some depth of +passion, shown reluctant even to her, the slow heat of the gloomy soul below. +It frightened her, but she yielded: her will, her purpose slept, died into its +languor. She loved, and she was loved,—was not that enough to know? She +cared to know no more. Did Gaunt wonder what the "cold blue eyes" of +this man told to the woman to-night? Nothing which his warped soul would have +understood in a thousand years. The room heated, glowless, crimson: outside, +the wind surged slow against the windows, like the surf of an eternal sea: she +only felt that her head rested on his breast,—that his hand shook, as it +traced the blue veins on her forehead: with a faint pleasure that the face was +fair, for his sake, which his eyes read with a meaning hers could not bear; +with a quick throb of love to her Master for this moment He had given her. Her +Master! Her blood chilled. Was she denying Him? Was she setting her foot on the +outskirts of hell? It mattered not. She shut her eyes wearily, closed her +fingers as for life upon the hand that held hers. All strength, health for her, +lay in its grasp: her own life lay weak, flaccid, morbid on his. She had +chosen: she would hold to her choice.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Yet, below all, the words of Gaunt stung her incessantly. +They would take effect at last. Palmer, watching her face, saw, as the slow +minutes passed, the color fade back, leaving it damp and livid, her lips grow rigid, +her chest heave like some tortured animal. There was some pain here deeper than +her ordinary heats. It would be better to let it have way. When she raised +herself, and looked at him, therefore, he made no effort to restrain her, but +waited, attentive.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I must speak, Douglas," she said. "I cannot +live and bear this doubt."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Go on," he said, gravely, facing her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes. Do not treat me as a child. It is no play for +me,"—pushing her hair back from her forehead, calling fiercely in +her secret soul for God to help her to go through with this bitter work He had +imposed on her. "It is for life and death, Douglas."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Go on,"—watching her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She looked at him. A keen, practical, continent face, with +small mercy for whims and shallow reasons. Whatever feeling or gloom lay +beneath, a blunt man, a truth-speaker, bewildered by feints or shams. She must +give a reason for what she did. The word she spoke would be written in his +memory, ineffaceable. He waited. She could not speak; she looked at the small +vigilant figure: it meant all that the world held for her of good.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You must go, Douglas, and never come again."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He was silent,—his eye contracted, keen, piercing.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There is a great gulf between us, Douglas Palmer. I +dare not cross it."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He smiled.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You mean—the war?—your father?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She shook her head; the words balked in her throat. Why did +not God help her? Was not she right? She put her hand upon his sleeve,—her +face, from which all joy and color seemed to have fallen forever, upturned to +his.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Douglas, you do not believe—as I do."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He noted her look curiously, as she said it, with an odd +remembrance of once when she was a child, and they had shown her for the first +time a dead body, that she had turned to the sky the same look of horror and +reproach she gave him now.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have prayed, and prayed,"—an appealing +cry in every low breath. "It is of no use,—no use! God never denied +me a prayer but that,—only that!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I do not understand. You prayed—for me?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Her eyes, turning to his own, gave answer enough.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I see! You prayed for me, poor child? that I could +find a God in the world?"—patting the hand resting on his arm +pitifully. "And it was of no use, you think? no use?"—dreamily, +his eye fixed on the solemn night without.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There was a slow silence. She looked awe-struck in his face: +he had forgotten her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have not found Him in the world?"—the +words dropping slowly from his lips, as though he questioned with the great +Unknown.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She thought she saw in his face hints that his soul had once +waged a direr battle than any she had known,—to know, to be. What was the +end? God, and Life, and Death, what were they to him now?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He looked at her at last, recalled to her. She thought he +stifled a sigh. But he put aside his account with God for another day: now it +was with her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You think it right to leave me for this, Theodora? You +think it a sin to love an unbeliever?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, Douglas,"—but she caught his hand +tighter, as she said it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The gulf between us is to be the difference between +heaven and hell? Is that true?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"<i>Is</i> it true?" she cried suddenly. "It +is for you to say. Douglas, it is you that must choose."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No man can force belief," he said, dryly. +"You will give me up? Poor child! You cannot, Theodora!"—smoothing +her head with an unutterable pity.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will give you up, Douglas!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Think how dear I have been to you, how far-off you are +from everybody in the world but me. Why, I know no woman so alone or weak as +you, if I should leave you!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I know it,"—sobbing silently.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You will stay with me, Theodora! Is the dull heaven +Gaunt prates of, with its psalms and crowns, better than my love? Will you be +happier there than here?"—holding her close, that she might feel the +strong throb of his heart against her own.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She shivered.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Theodora!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She drew away; stood alone.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Is it better?"—sharply.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She clutched her hands tightly, then she stood calm. She +would not <span lang=FR>lie</span>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It is not better," she said, steadily. "If I +know my own heart, nothing in the coming heaven is so dear as what I lose. But +I cannot be your wife, Douglas Palmer."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>His face flashed strangely.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It is simple selfishness, then? You fear to lose your +reward? What is my poor love to the eternity of happiness you trade it +for?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A proud heat flushed her face.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You know you do not speak truly. I do not deserve the +taunt."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The same curious smile glimmered over his mouth. He was +silent for a moment.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I overrate your sacrifice: it costs you little to say, +like the old Pharisee, 'Stand by, I am holier than thou!' You never loved me, +Theodora. Let me go down—to the land where you think all things are +forgotten. What is it to you? In hell I can lift up my eyes"—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She cried out sharply, as with pain.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will not forsake my Master," she said. "He +is real, more dear than you. I give you up."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Palmer caught her hand; there was a vague deadness in her +eye that terrified him; he had not thought the girl suffered so deeply.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"See, now," she gasped quickly, looking up, as if +some actual Presence stood near. "I have given up all for you! Let me die! +Put my soul out! What do I care for heaven?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Palmer bathed her face, put cordial to her lips, muttering +some words to himself. "Her sins, which are many, should be forgiven; she +loves much." When, long after, she sat on the low settle, quiet, he stood +before her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have something to say to you, Theodora. Do you +understand me?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I understand."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am going. It is better I should not stay. I want you +to thank God your love for your Master stood firm. I do. I believe in you: some +day, through you, I may believe in Him. Do you hear me?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She bent her head, worn-out.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Theodora, I want to leave you one thought to take on +your knees with you. Your Christ has been painted in false colors to you in +this matter. I am glad that as you understand Him you are true to Him; but you +are wrong."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She wrung her hands.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"If I could see that, Douglas!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You will see it. The selfish care of your own soul +which Gaunt has taught you is a <span lang=FR>lie</span>; his narrow heaven is +a <span lang=FR>lie</span>: my God inspires other love, other aims. What is the +old tale of Jesus?—that He put His man's hands on the vilest before He +blessed them? So let Him come to me,—through loving hands. Do you want to +preach the gospel, as some women do, to the Thugs? I think your field is here. +You shall preach it to the heart that loves you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She shook her head drearily. He looked at her a moment, and +then turned away.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You are right. There is a great gulf between you and +me, Theodora. When you are ready to cross it, come to me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And so left her.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>CEREBRAL DYNAMICS.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The stranger in Paris, exploring its southern suburbs along +the Fontainebleau road, comes upon an ancient pile, extended and renovated by +modern hands, whose simple, unpretending architecture would scarcely claim a +second look. Yet it was once the scene of an experiment of such momentous +consequences that it will ever possess a peculiar interest both to the philanthropist +and the philosopher. It was there, in that receptacle of the insane, while the +storm of the great Revolution was raging around him, that a physician, learned, +ardent, and bold, but scarcely known beyond the little circle of his friends +and patients, conceived and executed the idea, then no less wonderful than that +of propelling a ship by steam, of striking off the chains of the maniac and +opening the door of his cell. Within a few days, says the record, fifty-three +persons were restored to light and comparative liberty. In that experiment at +the <span lang=FR>Bicêtre</span>, whose triumphant success won the admiration +even of those ferocious demagogues who had risen to power, was inaugurated the +modern management of the insane, as strongly marked by kindness and confidence +as the old was by severity and distrust. It was a noble work, whose benefits, +reaching down to all future generations, are beyond the power of estimation; +but its remote and indirect results are scarcely less important than those more +immediate and visible. Here began the true study of mental disease. To the mind +of <span lang=FR>Pinel</span>, his experiment opened a track of inquiry leading +to results which, like those of the famous discoveries in physical science, +will never cease to be felt. A few collections of cases had been published, +medical scholars, in the midst of their books, had composed elaborate treatises +to show the various ways in which men might possibly become insane, but no +profound, original observer of mental disease had yet appeared. Trained in that +school of exact and laborious inquirers who at that period were changing the +whole face of physical science, he was well prepared for the work which seemed +to be reserved for him, of laying the foundations of this department of the +healing art.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Without following him in the successive stages of his work, +it is sufficient here to say, that the first step—that of showing that +the insane are not necessarily under the dominion of brute instinct, incapable +even of appreciating the arts of kindness and of using a restricted freedom—was +soon succeeded by another of no less importance considered in its relations to +humanity and psychology. <span lang=FR>Pinel</span>, who began his +investigations at the <span lang=FR>Bicêtre</span> in the old belief that +insanity implies disorder of the reasoning faculty, discovered, to his +surprise, that many of his patients evinced no intellectual impairment +whatever. They reasoned on all subjects clearly and forcibly; neither +hallucination nor delusion perverted their judgments; and some even recognized +and deplored the impulses and desires which they could not control. The fact +was too common to be misunderstood, and having been confirmed by subsequent +observers, it has taken its place among the well-settled truths of modern +science. Not very cordially welcomed as yet into the current beliefs of the +time, it is steadily making its way against the opposition of pride, prejudice, +ignorance, and self-conceit.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The magnitude of this advance in psychological knowledge can +be duly estimated only by considering how imperfect were the prevalent notions +concerning mental disease. For the most part, our ancestors thought no man +insane, whatever his conduct or conversation, who was not actually raving. If +the person were quiet, taciturn, apathetic, he was supposed to be melancholy or +hypochondriacal. If he were elated and restless, ready for all sorts of +undertakings and projects, his condition was attributed to a great flow of +spirits. If, while talking very sensibly on many subjects and doing many proper +things, he manifested a propensity to wanton mischief, why, then he was +possessed with a devil and consigned to chains and straw,—unless he had +committed some senseless act of crime, in which case he received from the law +the usual doom of felons.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>One of the first fruits of the new method of study +introduced by <span lang=FR>Pinel</span> was a more philosophical notion of the +nature of disease. The various diseases that afflict mankind had been regarded +as so many different entities that could almost be handled, and many attempts +to define and measure them exactly are on record. They came to be regarded +somewhat as personal foes, to be combated and overcome by the superior prowess +of the physician. It was not until such views were abandoned, and insanity, as +well as every other disease, was considered as an abnormal action or condition, +that true progress could be expected. One of the results of inquiry into the +nature of insanity, starting from this point, has been a growing conviction +that it implies defect and imperfection, as well as casual disorder. Attention +is now directed less to occasional and exoteric incidents, and more to +conditions which inhere in the original economy of the brain. We are sometimes +required to look beyond the individual, and beyond the nervous system even, if +we would discover the primordial movement which, having passed through one or +two generations, finally culminates in actual disease. We say, in popular +phrase, that the cause of insanity in this person was disappointed love, or +reverse of fortune, and in that, a fever, or a translation of disease; the +popular voice finds an echo in the records of the profession, and it all passes +for very good philosophy. Now, the more we learn, the more reason have we to +believe that the amount of truth in the common statistics respecting the causes +of insanity bears but a very small proportion to the amount of error. That such +things as those just mentioned are often deeply concerned in the production of +insanity cannot be doubted, but their agency is small in comparison with those +which exist in the original constitution of the patient, and are derived, in +greater or less degree, from progenitors. We would not say that insanity has +never occurred in a person whose brain was not vitiated by hereditary morbid +tendencies, but we do say that the proportion of such cases is exceedingly +small. All the seeming efficiency of the so-called "causes of +insanity" requires that preparation which is produced by the deteriorating +influences of progenitors, and without which they would be utterly powerless. Let +us consider this matter a little more closely by the light which modern inquiry +sheds upon it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>All the conditions of the bodily organs that determine the +character of the function are not known, but all analogy shows that what in +popular phrase is called <i>quality</i> is one of them. Exactly what this is +nobody knows, nor is it necessary for our present purpose that we should know; +but when we talk of the good or bad quality of an organ, we certainly do not +talk without meaning. We have an intelligible idea of the difference between +that constitution, of an organ which insures the highest measure of excellence +in the function and that which admits of only the lowest. In the brain, as in +other organs, size is to some extent a measure of power. The largest intellectual +and moral endowments no one expects to see in connection with the smallest +brain, and <i>vice versâ</i>, setting aside those instances of large size which +are the effect of disease. The <i>relative</i> size of the different parts of +the brain may have something to do with the character of the function, but this +is a contested point. Education increases the mental efficiency, no doubt, but it is too late in the day to attribute everything to <i>that</i>. +So that we are obliged to resort to that indescribable condition called <i>quality</i>, +as the chief source and origin of the differences of mental power observed +among men.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is easier to say what this condition is not than what it +is. It is not manifested to the senses by weight or color, dryness or moisture, +hardness or softness. In these particulars all brains are pretty nearly alike. +When the cerebral action stops and the man dies, we may find lesions visible +enough to the sense,—vessels preternaturally engorged with blood, +effusions of lymph, thickening of the membranes, changes of color and +consistency,—but no one imagines these to be the cause and origin of the +disturbance. Behind and beyond all this, in that intimate constitution of the +organic molecules which no instrument of sense can bring to light, lies the +source of mental activity, both healthy and morbid. There lies the source of +all cerebral dynamics. Of this we are sure, unable, as we are, to demonstrate +the fact to the senses.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Scientific observation has made us acquainted with some of +the agencies which vitiate the quality of the brain, and it is our duty to +profit by its results. The principal of them is morbid action in the brain +itself, producing, more or less directly, disorder and weakness. But its +deteriorating influence does not cease with the individual. In a large +proportion of cases it is transmitted to the offspring; and though it may not +appear in precisely the same form, yet the tokens of its existence are too +obvious to be overlooked.—Another agency scarcely less efficient is that +of <i>neuropathies</i>, to use the medical term,—meaning the various +forms of disorder which have their origin in the brain, and comprising not only +epilepsy, hysteria, chorea, and other convulsive affections, but that habit of +body and mind which makes a person <i>nervous</i>. While they may abridge the +mental efficiency of the patient comparatively little or not at all, they may +exert this effect, and often do, in the highest degree, on his offspring. The +amount of insanity in the world attributable to insanity in the progenitors, +and therefore called, <i>par </i><i><span lang=FR>éminence</span></i>, +hereditary, is scarcely greater than that which originates in this manner, and +of which the essential condition is no less hereditary.—Another agency, +acting on a large scale in some localities, is exerted by those diseases which +are attributed to some disorder of the lymphatic system, as scrofula and +rickets. Though not entirely unknown to the affluent classes, yet it is chiefly +in the dwellings of the poor that these diseases find their victims. Cold, +moisture, bad air, deficient nourishment,—too frequent accompaniments of +poverty,—are peculiarly favorable to their production. The physical +depravation thus induced is frequently transmitted to the brain in the next +generation, and appears in the shape of mental disorder.—Again, it is now +well known that the qualities of the race are depreciated by the intermarrying +of relatives. The disastrous influence of such unions is exerted on the nervous +system more than any other, and is a prolific source of deaf-mutism, blindness, +idiocy, and insanity. Not, certainly, in all cases do we see these results, for +the legitimate consequences of this violation of an organic law are often +avoided by the help of more controlling influences, but they are frequent +enough to remove any doubt as to their true cause. And the chances of exemption +are greatly lessened where the marriage of consanguinity is repeated in the +next generation. The manner in which the evil is effected may be conjectured +with some approach to correctness, but to speculate upon it here would lead us +astray from our present purpose. The amount of the evil may be thought to be +comparatively small, but they who have a professional acquaintance with the +subject would hardly undertake to measure the dimensions of all the physical +and mental suffering which it involves. In one State, at least, in the Union, +it has seemed formidable enough to require an act of the legislature forbidding +the marriage of cousins.—The last we shall mention, among the agencies +concerned in vitiating the quality of the brain, is that of excessive or long-continued +intemperance; and for many years it has been a most fruitful source of mental +deterioration: not, however, in the way which is generally imagined; for, +though it may add some effect to a popular harangue to attribute a very large +proportion of the existing cases of insanity directly to intemperance, yet, as +a matter of fact, very few, probably, can be fairly traced to this cause +solely. And yet, at the present time, it is unquestionably responsible for a +very large share of the mental infirmities which afflict the race. The germ of +the evil requires a second, perhaps a third, generation to bring it to +maturity. And then it may appear in the form of mania, or idiocy, or +intemperance. As a cause of idiocy, its potency has been placed beyond a doubt. +Dr. S.G. Howe, whose thorough investigations entitle his conclusions to great +weight, says, that, "directly or indirectly, alcohol is productive of a +great proportion of the idiocy which now burdens the Commonwealth." There +is this curious feature of its deteriorating influence, that the primary effect +is not always persistent, but may be removed by removing the cause. In the +Report of the Hospital at Columbus, Ohio, for 1861, the physician, Dr. Hills, +says of one of his patients, that his father, in the first part of his married +life, was strictly temperate, "and had four children, all yet remaining +healthy and sound. From reverses of fortune, he became discouraged and +intemperate for some years, having in this period four children, two of whom we +had now received into the asylum; a third one was idiotic, and the fourth +epileptic. He then reformed in habits, had three more children, all now grown +to maturity, and to this period remaining sound and healthy." Another +similar case follows. An intemperate parent had four children, two of whom +became insane, one was an idiot, and the fourth died young, in +"fits." Four children born previous to the period of intemperance, +and two after the parent's reformation, are all sound and healthy. Often, it is +well known, intemperance in the child is the hereditary sequel of intemperance +in the parent. The irresistible craving, without the preliminary gradual +indulgence, and in spite of judicious education, generally distinguishes it +from intemperance resulting from other causes.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>All these agencies have this trait in common, that their +damaging effect is often felt by the offspring as well as the parent, and, in +most cases, in a far higher degree. The common doctrine of hereditary disease +implies the actual transmission of a specific form of disease fully developed,—or, +at least, of a tendency to it that may or may not be developed. The range +within which it operates is supposed to be the narrow limits covered by a +single specific affection. Daily experience, however, shows that the deviation +from the primitive type is limited only by some conditions of structure. Any +pathological result may be expected, not incompatible with the structure of the +organ. And thus it is that the cerebral affection which fell upon the parent is +represented in one child by insanity, in another by idiocy, in another by +epilepsy, in another by gross eccentricity, in another by moral perversities, +in another by ill-balanced intellect,—each and all implying a brain more +or less vitiated by the parental infirmity. There is nothing strange in all +this diversity of result. In the healthy state, organic action proceeds with +wonderful regularity and uniformity; but when controlled by the pathological +element, all this is changed, although the change has its limits. This +diversity in the results of hereditary transmission is as strictly according to +law as the similarity of features exhibited by parent and child. No presumption +against the fact can be derived from this quarter, and therefore, if well-authenticated, +it must be admitted. Many a man, however, who admits the general fact, refuses +to make the application where it has not been usually made. When mania occurs +in two or three successive generations, nobody overlooks the hereditary +element; but when the mania of the parent is followed by great inequalities of +character, or strange impulses to criminal acts, then the effects of disease +are straightway ignored, and we think only of moral liberty and free-will. It +may be difficult, sometimes, to make the proper distinction between the effects +of hereditary physical vitiation and those of bad education and strong +temptations; but the difficulty is of the kind which stands in the way of all +successful inquiry, to be overcome by patient and profound study.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Some light may be thrown on this deviation from the original +type by considering the forces that are concerned in the hereditary act. The +statement that like produces like is the expression of an obvious law. But we must +bear in mind that the law is only so far observed as is necessary to maintain +the characters of the species. Within that range there is every possible +variety, and for a very obvious reason. Every individual represents immediately +two others, and, indirectly, an indefinite number. This is done by uniting in +himself qualities and features drawn from each parent, without any obvious +principle or law of selection and combination. One parent may be, apparently, +more fully represented than the other; the defects of the parent may be +transmitted, rather than the excellences; the tendencies to health and strength +may be outnumbered and overborne by the tendencies to disease. No individual, +of course, can receive, entirely and completely, the features and attributes of +both parents, for that would be a sort of practical absurdity; but in the +process of selecting and combining, Nature exhibits the same inexhaustible +variety that appears in all her operations. Even in the offspring of the same +parents, however numerous, uniformity in this respect is seldom so obvious as +diversity. This cerebral deterioration is subject to the same laws of descent +as other traits, with a few exceptions without much bearing on the present +question. We might as reasonably expect to see the nose or the eyes, the figure +or the motions of either parent transmitted with the exactest likeness to all +the offspring, as to suppose that an hereditary disease must necessarily be +transmitted fully formed, with all the incidents and conditions which it +possessed in the parent. And yet, in the case of mental disease, the current +philosophy can recognize the evidence of transmission in no shape less +demonstrative than delusion or raving. Contrary to all analogy, and contrary to +all fact, it supposes that the hereditary affection must appear in the +offspring in precisely the same degree of intensity which it had in the parent. +If the son is stricken down with raving mania, like his father before him, then +the relation of cause and effect is obvious enough; but if, on the contrary, +the former exhibits only extraordinary outbreaks of passion, remarkable +inequalities of spirit and disposition, irrelevant and inappropriate conduct, +strange and unaccountable impulses, nothing of this kind is charged practically +to the parental infirmity.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The cerebral defect once established, the modes in which it +may be manifested in subsequent generations present no uniformity whatever. +Insanity in a parent may be followed by any possible form of mental +irregularity in the descendant,—insanity, idiocy, epilepsy, drunkenness, +criminal impulses, eccentricity. And so, too, eccentricity, even of the least +prominent kind, may be followed by grosser eccentricity, or even overt +insanity, in the descendant. The cerebral defect is not necessarily manifested +in an uninterrupted series of generations, for it often skips over one, and +appears with redoubled energy in the next; and thus, in looking for proof of +hereditary disease or defect, we are not to stop at the next preceding generation. +We are too little acquainted with the laws of hereditary transmission to +explain these things. We know this, however, that, side by side with that law +which decrees the transmission of defects as well as excellences, there exists +another law which restrains deviations from the normal type, which extinguishes +the errant traits, and reestablishes the primitive characters of the organism. +The combined and alternate action of these two laws may produce some of the +inscrutable phenomena of hereditary transmission.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The transmission of the cerebral defect is often manifested +in a manner exceedingly embarrassing to all who hold to the prevalent notions +respecting sanity and insanity. It is sometimes confined to a very +circumscribed range, beyond which the mind presents no material impairment. The +sound and the unsound coexist, not in a state of fusion, but side by side, each +independent of the other, and both derived from a common source. And the fact +is no more anomalous than that often witnessed, of some striking feature of one +parent associated in the child with one equally striking of the other. It is +not the case exactly of partial insanity, or any mental defect, super-induced +upon a mind otherwise sound,—for such defect is, in some degree, an +accident, and may disappear; but here is a congenital conjunction of sanity and +insanity, which no medical or moral appliances will ever remove. These persons +may get on very well in their allotted part, and even achieve distinction, +while the insane element is often cropping out in the shape of extravagances or +irregularities in thought or action, which, according to the stand-point they +are viewed from, are regarded either as gross eccentricity, or undisciplined +powers, or downright insanity. For every manifestation of this kind they may +show no lack of plausible reasons, calculated to mislead the superficial +observer; but still the fact remains, that these traits, which are never +witnessed in persons of well-balanced minds, are a part of their habitual +character. When people of this description possess a high order of intellectual +endowments, the unhealthy element seems to impart force and piquancy to their +mental manifestations, and thus increase the embarrassment touching the true +character of their mental constitution. When the defect appears in the +reflective powers, it is often regarded as insanity, though not more correctly +than if it were confined to the emotions and feelings. The man who goes through +life creditably performing his part, but feeling, all the while, that everybody +with whom he has any relations is endeavoring to oppose and annoy him, strays +as clearly from the track of a healthy mind as if he believed in imaginary +plots and conspiracies against his property or person. In neither case is he +completely overcome by the force of the strange impression, but passes along, +to all appearance, much like other men. Insane, in the popular acceptation, he +certainly is not; but it is equally certain that his mind is not in a healthy +condition. Lord Byron was one of this class, and the fact gives us a clew to +the anomalies of his character. His mother was subject to violent outbreaks of +passion, not unlike those often witnessed in the insane. On the paternal side +his case was scarcely better. The loose principles, the wild and reckless +conduct of his father procured for him the nickname of "<i>Mad Jack Byron</i>"; +and his grand-uncle, who killed his neighbor in a duel, exhibited traits not +very characteristic of a healthy mind. With such antecedents, it is not strange +that he was subject to wild impulses, violent passions, baseless prejudices, +uncompromising selfishness, irregular mental activity. The morbid element in +his nervous system was also witnessed in the form of epilepsy, from which he +suffered, more or less, during his whole life. The "vile melancholy" +which Dr. Johnson inherited from his father, and which, to use his own +expression, "made him mad all his life, at least not sober," never +perverted nor hampered the exercise of his intellectual powers. He heard the voice +of his distant mother calling "Sam"; he was bound to touch every post +he passed in the streets; he astonished people by his extraordinary +singularities, and much of his time was spent in the depths of mental distress; +yet the march of his intellect, steady, uniform, and measured, gave no token of +confusion or weakness.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In common life, among an order of men unknown beyond the +circle of their neighborhood, this sort of mental dualism witnessed with +remarkable frequency, though generally regarded as anomalous and unaccountable, +rather than the result of an organic law. In some, the morbid element, without +affecting the keenness of the intellect, is more active, intruding itself on +all occasions, characterizing the ways and manners, the demeanor and deportment. +Under the influence of peculiarly adverse circumstances, they are liable to +lose occasionally the unsteady balance between the antagonistic forces of their +mental nature, to conduct as if unquestionably insane, and to be treated +accordingly. Of such the remark is always made by the world, which sees no nice +distinctions, "If he is insane now, he was always insane." According +as the one or the other phasis of their mind is exclusively regarded, they are +accounted by some as always crazy, by others as uncommonly shrewd and capable. +The hereditary origin of this mental defect in some form of nervous affection +will always be discovered, where the means of information are afforded.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In some persons the morbid element appears in the shape of +insensibility to nice moral distinctions. Their perception of them at all seems +to be the result of imitation rather than instinct. With them, circumstances +determine everything as to the moral complexion of their career in life. +Whether they leave behind them a reputation for flagrant selfishness, meanness, +and dishonesty, or for a commendable prudence and judicious regard for self,—whether +they always keep within the precincts of a decent respectability, or run into +disreputable courses,—depends mostly on chance and fortune. This intimate +association of the saint and the sinner in the same individual, common as it +is, is a stumbling-block to moralists and legislators. The abnormal element is +entirely overlooked, or rather is confounded with that kind of moral depravity +which comes from vicious training And, certainly, the distinction is not always +very easily made; for, though sufficient light on this point may often be +derived from the antecedents of the individual, yet it is impossible, +occasionally, to remove the obscurity in which it is involved. However this may +be, it is a warrantable inference from the results of modern inquiry, that the +class of cases is not a small one, where the person commits a criminal act, or +falls into vicious habits, with a full knowledge of the nature and consequences +of his conduct, and prompted, perhaps, by the ordinary inducements to vice, +who, nevertheless, would have been a shining example of virtue, had the morbid +element in his cerebral organism been left out. In our rough estimates of responsibility +this goes for nothing, like the untoward influences of education; and it could +not well be otherwise, though it cannot be denied that one element of moral +responsibility, namely, the wish and the power to pursue the right and avoid +the wrong, is greatly defective.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There is another phasis of cerebral defect not very unlike +the last, which of late years has been occurring with increasing frequency, +embarrassing our courts, confounding the wise and the simple, and overwhelming +respectable families with shame and sorrow. With an intellect unwarped by the +slightest excitement or delusion, and with many moral traits, it may be, +calculated to please and to charm, its subjects are irresistibly impelled to +some particular form of crime. With more or less effort they strive against it, +and when they yield at last, their conduct is as much a mystery to themselves +as to others. Ordinary criminals excite some touch of pity, on the score of bad +education or untamed passions; but if, in the common estimation of the world, +there is one criminal more reprehensible than another, it is he who sins +against great light and under the smallest temptations,—and, of course, +the hottest wrath of an incensed community is kindled against him.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>At the bar of yonder courtroom stands a youth with an aspect +and manner indicative of culture and refinement far above those of the common +herd of criminals. He was detected in the very act of committing a grave +criminal offence. He has been educated under good moral influences, and possessed +a patrimony that supplied every reasonable want. No looseness of living, no +violent passion is alleged against him, and no adequate motive appears for the +act. For a year or two past he has been unusually restless by day and by night, +has slept poorly, and his countenance has worn an expression of distraction and +anxiety. Various little details of conduct are related of him, which, though +not morally censurable, were offensive to good taste and opposed to the +ordinary observances of society. His friends are sure he is not the man he once +was, but no expert ventures to pronounce him insane. Looking behind the scene, +the mystery clears up, and we behold only a simple operation of cerebral +dynamics. A glance at the family-history shows us a great-grandfather, an aunt, +two second-cousins, and a brother unequivocally insane, the father and many +other members widely noted for eccentricities and irregularities of a kind +scarcely compatible with the idea of sanity. Considering that the brain does +not spring out of the ground, but is the final product of all the influences +which for generations have been working in the cerebral organism, it is not +strange that the quality of his brain became so vitiated as to be incapable of +some of its highest functions.—Looking a little farther back in our +forensic experience, we behold a youth scarcely arrived at the age of legal +majority, with a simple, verdant look, arraigned for trial on the charge of +murder. He was the servant of a farmer, and his victim was an adopted daughter +of the family, and some years younger than himself. One day they were left +together to take care of the house, a little girl in the neighborhood having +come in to keep them company. While engaged in the domestic services, quietly +and pleasantly, he invited his companion to go with him into another room where +he had something to show her, and there, within a few minutes, he cut her +throat from ear to ear. He soon came down, told what he had done, and made no +attempt to escape. They had always been on good terms; no provocation, no +motive whatever for the act was shown or suspected. When questioned, he replied +only,—"I loved her, no one could tell how much I loved her." He +had been drinking cider during the morning, but his cool and collected manner, +both before and after the act, showed that he was not intoxicated. His +employers testified that they had always found him good-natured and correct, +but considered his intellect somewhat below the average grade. A few months +subsequently he died in jail of consumption. Regarded from the ordinary moral +stand-points, this was a strange, an unaccountable, a monstrous act, and we are +unable to take the first step towards a solution of the mystery. Looking, +however, at the material conditions of his affections, his propensities, his +impulses,—his cerebral dynamics,—we get a clew, at least, to the +secret. His father was an habitual drunkard, and a frequent inmate of the poor-house. +He had two children,—one an idiot, and the other the prisoner; and the +mental deficiency of the former, and the senseless impulses to crime manifested +by the latter, were equally legitimate effects of the father's vice.—Here, +again, is one who might justly be regarded as a favored son of fortune. Fine +talents, a college-education, high social position, an honorable and lucrative +business in prospect were all his; but before leaving college he had made +considerable proficiency in lying, drinking, forgery, and hypocrisy, besides +evincing a remarkable ingenuity in concealing these traits. His vices only +increased with years, notwithstanding the various parental expedients to effect +reform,—a voyage to sea, establishment in business, confinement in a +hospital for the insane, a residence in the country, a settlement in a new +territory. All this time his intellect was cool and clear, except when under +the influence of drink, and he was always ready with the most plausible +explanations of his conduct. At last, however, delusions began to appear, and +unquestionable and incurable insanity was established. The philosophy of our +times utterly fails to account for a phenomenon like this. Had the hand of the +law been laid upon him for his offences, he would have been regarded as one of +those examples of depravity which deserve the severest possible punishment; and +when the true nature of his case appeared at last, doctors only wondered how so +much mental disorder could happen to one whose progenitors were singularly free +from mental infirmities. In noticing the agencies calculated to vitiate the +quality of the brain, we mentioned the neuropathies as among the most +efficient, though their effect is chiefly witnessed in subsequent generations, +and the present case is an illustration of the fact. His mother was a highly +nervous woman, and for many years a confirmed invalid.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This, then, being admitted, that a vitiated quality of the +brain may be transmitted to the offspring with accumulating effect, let us see +what are the general characteristics of this effect. We have no reason to +suppose that the brain is exempt from the operation of the same organic laws +which govern the rest of the animal economy. Observation abundantly shows that +its working capacity is diminished, and its activity becomes irregular in one +or more of the various degrees of irregularity, ranging from a little +eccentricity up to raving mania. Occasionally, such defect is accompanied by +remarkable manifestations of mental ability, but it is no part of our doctrine +that such conjunctions are incompatible. Byron and Johnson accomplished great +things; but who will deny that without that hereditary taint they would have +done more and done it better? The latter, it is well known, was much dependent +on moods, and spent long periods in mental inactivity. The labors of the other +were fitful, and his views of life betray the influence of the same cerebral +defect that led to so much domestic woe. The narrow-chested, round-shouldered +person, whose lungs barely oxydize blood enough to maintain life, is not +expected to walk a thousand miles in a thousand hours, or to excel as a +performer on wind-instruments. We impute to him no fault for this sort of +incompetence. We should rather charge him with consummate folly, if he +undertook a line of exercises for which he is so clearly unfitted. We do not +wonder, in fact, when this unfortunate pulmonary constitution sends its +possessor to an early grave. Why not apply the same philosophy to the brain, +which may partake of all the defects incident to organized matter? Why expect +of one among whose progenitors insanity, idiocy, scrofula, rickets, and +epilepsy have prevailed in an extraordinary degree all the moral and +intellectual excellences displayed by those whose blood through a long line of +ancestors has been untainted by any of these affections?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is chiefly, however, in abnormal activity that the +presence of this cerebral depreciation is indicated. And here we find the same +disposition to insist on positive and absolute conditions, overlooking those +nicer shades of diversity which mark the movements of Nature. It is the common +belief that between eccentricity and insanity a great gulf is fixed; and in +courts of justice this notion is often used with great effect to overthrow the +conclusions of the medical expert, who, while he admits their essential +difference, finds it not very easy to avoid the trap which a quick-witted +lawyer is sure to make of it. Let him recognize the fact that they are the +results of a common agency, differing chiefly in degree, and then his path is +clear, though it may not lead to popular confidence in his professional views.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Neither is the cerebral depreciation confined to any +particular portion of the organ; and therefore its effects may be witnessed in +any of those manifestations which are known to depend upon it. The affective +powers, meaning thereby the passions, affections, and emotions, are, like the +intellectual, connected with the brain, and, like them too, are shaped, in a +great degree, by the quality of that organ. It is curious, however, that, while +this fact is admitted in general terms, there is a prevalent reluctance to make +the legitimate practical application. It is denied that the moral powers and +propensities can be affected by disease, though connected with a material +organ. Everybody believes that a man who thinks his legs are made of glass is +insane; but if his affections only are disordered,—love and kindness +being replaced by jealousy and hate,—an habitual regard for every moral +propriety, by unbounded looseness of life and conversation,—the practice +of the strictest virtue, by unblushing indulgence of crime, and all without +apparent cause or motive,—then the morbid element in the case is +overlooked and stoutly repudiated. We admit that a man may be a fool without +any fault of his own; but if he fall short of any of the requirements of the +moral law, he is regarded as a sinner, and perhaps punished as a criminal. +Before we utterly condemn him for failing to recognize all the sharp +distinctions between right and wrong, for yielding to temptation, and walking +in evil courses, we are bound in justice to inquire whether a higher grade of +moral excellence has not been debarred him by the defective quality of his +brain, the organ by which all moral graces are manifested,—whether it has +not become deteriorated by morbid predispositions, transmitted with steadily +accumulating force, to insanity, or other affections which are known to spread +their noxious influence over the nervous system.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A scientific fact is supposed to be entitled to credence, +when accompanied by proper scientific proof; but, nevertheless, many worthy +people cannot resist the conclusion, that, if a man's moral character is +determined by the quality of the brain, then there is no such thing as +responsibility. And so we are brought up all standing against the old problem +of moral liberty, on which oceans of ink have been shed to little purpose. +Heaven forbid that we should add another drop! for our object will be served by +stating very briefly the scientific view of this phenomenon. Every creature is +free, within the limits of the constitution which Nature has given him, to act +and to think, each after his kind. The horse rejoices in the liberty of acting +like a horse, and not like an ox; and man enjoys the privilege of acting the +part of a man, and not of a disembodied spirit. If the limbs of the former are +struck by an atrophy, we do not expect him to win the race. If the brain of the +latter is blasted by disease or deterioration, we cannot expect the fruits of a +sound and vigorous organism. When we say that a person with a brain vitiated by +an accumulation of hereditary defects is incapable of that degree of moral +excellence which is manifested by men of the soundest brains, we utter a truism +as self-evident, apparently, as when we say that the ox is incapable of the +fleetness of the horse or the ferocity of the tiger. It is immaterial whether +the cerebral condition in question is one of original constitution or of +acquired deficiency, because the relation between the physical and the moral +must be the same in the one case as in the other. In the toiling masses, who, +from childhood, are brought face to face with want and vice, we do not expect +to find the moral graces of a Channing or a Cheverus; and we do not hold them +to a very strict responsibility for the deficiency. But they are not utterly +destitute of a moral sense, and what we have a right to expect is, that they +improve, in a reasonable degree, the light and opportunities which have fallen +to their lot. The principle is precisely the same as it regards those whose +brains have been vitiated by some noxious agency. To make them morally +responsible in an equal degree with men more happily endowed would be repugnant +to every idea of right and justice. But within the range of their capacity, +whatever it may be, they are free, and accountable for the use of their +liberty. True, there is often difficulty in making these distinctions, even +where the necessity for it is the greatest; but we dissent from the conclusion, +that therefore the doctrine can have but little practical value. It is +something to have the fact of the intimate connection between organic +conditions and moral manifestations distinctly recognized. The advance of +knowledge will be steadily widening the practical application of the fact. A +judge might not be justified in favoring the acquittal of a criminal on the +ground of his having inherited a brain of vitiated quality; but, surely, it +would not be repugnant to the testimony of science, or the dictates of common +sense and common justice, if he allowed this fact to operate in mitigation of +sentence.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>A NEW SCULPTOR.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Once to my Fancy's hall a stranger came,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Of mien unwonted,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And its pale shapes of glory without shame</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Or speech confronted.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Fair was my hall,—a gallery of Gods</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Smoothly appointed;</p> + +<p class=Poem>With Nymphs and Satyrs from the dewy sods</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Freshly anointed.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Great Jove sat throned in state, with Hermes near,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>And fiery Bacchus;</p> + +<p class=Poem>Pallas and Pluto, and those powers of Fear</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Whose visions rack us.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Artemis wore her crescent free of stars,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>The hunt just scented;</p> + +<p class=Poem>Glad Aphrodite met the warrior Mars,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>The myriad-tented.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Rude was my visitant, of sturdy form,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Draped in such clothing</p> + +<p class=Poem>As the world's great, whom luxury makes warm,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Look on with loathing.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And yet, methought, his service-badge of soil</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>With honor wearing;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And in his dexter hand, embossed with toil,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>A hammer bearing.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>But while I waited till his eye should sink,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>O'ercome of beauty,</p> + +<p class=Poem>With heart impatience brimming to the brink</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Of courteous duty,—</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>He smote my marbles many a murderous blow,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>His weapon poising;</p> + +<p class=Poem>I, in my wrath and wonderment of woe,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>No comment voicing.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"Come, sweep this rubbish from the workman's way,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Wreck of past ages,—</p> + +<p class=Poem>Afford me here a lump of harmless clay,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Ye grooms and pages!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Then, from that voidness of our mother Earth,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>A frame he builded</p> + +<p class=Poem>Of a new feature,—with the power of birth</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Fashioned and welded.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>It had a might mine eyes had never seen,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>A mien, a stature,</p> + +<p class=Poem>As if the centuries that rolled between</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Had greatened Nature.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>It breathed, it moved; above Jove's classic sway</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>A place was won it:</p> + +<p class=Poem>The rustic sculptor motioned; then "To-day"</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>He wrote upon it.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"What man art thou?" I cried, "and what +this wrong</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>That thou hast wrought me?</p> + +<p class=Poem>My marbles lived on symmetry and song;</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Why hast thou brought me</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"A form of all necessities, that asks</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Nurture and feeding?</p> + +<p class=Poem>Not this the burthen of my maidhood's tasks,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Nor my high breeding."</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"Behold," he said, "Life's great +impersonate,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Nourished by Labor!</p> + +<p class=Poem>Thy Gods are gone with old-time faith and Fate;</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Here is thy Neighbor."</p> + +<p class=Chapter>PLAYS AND PLAY-ACTING.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>One evening, after seeing Booth in "Richard III.," +three of us fell a-talking about the authorship of the play, and wondering how +far Shakespeare was responsible for what we had heard. Everybody knows that +Colley <span lang=FR>Cibber</span> improved upon the text of the old folios and +quartos: for what was listened to with delight by Ben <span lang=FR>Jonson</span> +could not satisfy Congreve, and William III. needed better verses than those +applauded by Queen Elizabeth. None of us knew how great or how many these +improvements were. I doubt whether many of the audience that crowded the +theatre that evening were wiser than we. The next day I got an acting copy of +"Richard III.," and, with the help of Mrs. Clarke's Concordance,<a +href="#_edn1" name="_ednref1" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[1]</span></span></span></a> +arrived at the following astonishing results.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"<span lang=FR>Shakspeare's</span> Historical Tragedy +of Richard III., adapted to Representation by Colley <span lang=FR>Cibber</span>," +(I quote the full title for its matchless impudence,) makes a pamphlet of fifty-nine +small pages. Of these, <span lang=FR>Cibber</span> was good enough to write +twenty-six out of his own head. Then, modestly recognizing Shakespeare's +superiority, he took twenty-<i>seven</i> pages from him, (not all from this +particular play, to be sure,) <span lang=EN-GB>remodelled</span> six other +pages of the original, and, mixing it all up together, produced a play, and +called it Shakespeare.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>With Mrs. Clarke's touchstone it is easy to separate the +base metal from the fine gold; though you have only to ring most of <span +lang=FR>Cibber's</span> counterfeits to see how flat they are. Would any one +take the following for genuine coin, and believe that Shakespeare could make a +poor ghost talk thus?</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"PRINCE E. Richard, dream on, and see the wandering spirits</p> + +<p class=Drama>Of thy young nephews, murdered in the tower:</p> + +<p class=Drama>Could not our youth, our innocence, persuade</p> + +<p class=Drama>Thy cruel heart to spare our harmless lives?</p> + +<p class=Drama>Who, but for thee, alas! might have enjoyed</p> + +<p class=Drama>Our many promised years of happiness.</p> + +<p class=Drama>No soul, save thine, but pities our misusage.</p> + +<p class=Drama>Oh! 'twas a cruel deed! therefore alone,</p> + +<p class=Drama>Unpitying, unpitied shalt thou fall."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Or thus:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"K. HENRY. The morning's dawn has summoned me away;</p> + +<p class=Drama>And let that wild despair, which now does prey</p> + +<p class=Drama>Upon thy mangled thoughts, alarm the world.</p> + +<p class=Drama>Awake, Richard, awake! to guilty minds</p> + +<p class=Drama>A terrible example!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>No wonder that Gloucester finds it quite hopeless to reply +to such ghosts in the words Shakespeare put into his mouth, and so has recourse +to <span lang=FR>Cibber</span>. We are not told what (<span lang=FR>Cibber's</span>) +ghosts say to Richmond; but he declares,—</p> + +<p class=Drama style='margin-top:6.0pt'>"If dreams should animate a soul +resolved,</p> + +<p class=Drama><i>I'm more than pleased with those I've had to-night.</i>"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Just after this, it is rather confusing to find him straying +off into "Henry V." Still, "In peace there's nothing so becomes +a man," seems to promise Shakespeare at least,—so compose yourself +to listen and enjoy:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"In peace there's nothing so becomes a man</p> + +<p class=Drama>As <i>mild behavior</i> and humility;</p> + +<p class=Drama>But when the blast of war blows in our ears,</p> + +<p class=Drama><i>Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment</i>."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>After this outrage, I defy you to help hoping that the +comparatively innocent Richard will chop off Richmond's head,—in spite of +history and Shakespeare.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It does not follow that all change or omission is unlawful +in placing Shakespeare's plays on the stage. Though in the pit or parquet we +sit (more or less) at our ease, instead of standing as the groundlings did in +old days, yet a tragedy five hours and a half long would be rather too much of +a good thing for us. There must have been a real love of the drama in those +times. Fancy a fine gentleman, able to pay his shilling and sit with the wits +upon the rush-strewn stage, listening for such a length of time to +"Hamlet," with no change of scenes to help the illusion or break the +monotony, beyond a curtain or two hung across the stage, a wooden gallery at +the back whence the court of Denmark might view "The Mouse-Trap," +and, perhaps, a wooden tomb pushed on or "discovered" in the +graveyard-scene by pulling aside one of these curtains or +"traverses." No pretty women, either, dressed in becoming robes, and +invested with the mysterious halo of interest which an actress seems to bring +with her from the side-scenes. No women at all. Poor Ophelia presented by a +great lubberly boy, and the part of the Queen very likely intrusted to him who +was last year the "<i><span lang=FR>jeune</span> première</i>," and +whose voice is now somewhat cracked within the ring. To be sure, in those days +every gentleman took his pipe with him; and the fragrant clouds would be some +consolation in the eyes, or rather in the noses, of some of us. But still,—almost +six hours of tragedy! It is too much of a good thing for these degenerate days; +and we must allow the prompter to use his pencil on the actors' copy of +"Hamlet," though he strike out page upon page of immortal philosophy.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But there are certain parts of this play omitted whose loss +makes one grieve. Why do the actors leave out the strange half-crazed +exclamations wrung from Hamlet by his father's voice repeating +"Swear" from beneath his feet?</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"HAM. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.</p> + +<p class=Drama>GHOST [<i>beneath</i>]. Swear.</p> + +<p class=Drama>HAM. Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny?—</p> + +<p class=Drama>Come on,—you hear this fellow in the cellarage—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>Swear by my sword.</p> + +<p class=Drama>GHOST [<i>beneath</i>]. Swear.</p> + +<p class=Drama>HAM. <i>Hic et </i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>ubique</span></i>? then +we'll shift our ground.—</p> + +<p class=Drama>Come hither, gentlemen,</p> + +<p class=Drama>And lay your hands again upon my sword:</p> + +<p class=Drama>Never to speak of this that you have heard,</p> + +<p class=Drama>Swear by my sword.</p> + +<p class=Drama>GHOST [<i>beneath</i>]. Swear.</p> + +<p class=Drama>HAM. Well said, old mole! Canst work <span lang=FR>i</span>' the +ground so fast?</p> + +<p class=Drama>A worthy pioneer I....</p> + +<p class=Drama>... This not to do,</p> + +<p class=Drama>So grace and mercy at your most need help you, swear.</p> + +<p class=Drama>GHOST [<i>beneath</i>]. Swear.</p> + +<p class=Drama>HAM. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The sensitive organization which makes Hamlet what he is has +been too rudely handled: the machine, too delicate for the rough work of every-day +life, breaks down, under the strain. The horror of the time—beginning +with Horatio's story of the apparition, and growing more fearful with every +moment of reflection, until Hamlet longs for the coming of the dread hour—reaches +a point beyond which human nature has no power to endure. If he could share his +burden with his friend Horatio,—but Marcellus thrusts himself forward, +and he checks the half-uttered confidence, and struggles to put aside their +curiosity with trifling words. Anything, to be alone and free to think on what +he has heard and what he has to do. And then,—as he is swearing them to +secrecy before escaping from them,—<i>there</i>, from under their feet +and out of the solid earth, comes the voice whose adieu is yet ringing in his +ears. In terror they hurry to another spot; but the awful voice follows their +steps, and its tones shake the ground under them. What wonder, if, broken down +by all this, Hamlet utters words which would be irreverent in their levity, +were they not terrible in their wildness? Have you never marked what pathos +there is in a very trivial phrase used by one so crushed down by grief that he +acts and speaks like a little child?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is wonderful that a great actor should neglect a passage +that paints with one touch Hamlet's half-hysterical state. Given as it might be +given, it would curdle the blood in your veins. I asked the best Hamlet it has +been my fortune to see, why he left out these lines. "I have often thought +I would speak them; but I don't know how." That was his answer, and a very +honest one it was. But such a reason is not worthy of any man who dares to play +Hamlet,—much less of one who plays it as —— does.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is curious to observe how persistently the players, in +making up the stage-travesties of Shakespeare's plays, have followed the +uncertain lead of the quartos, where they and the folio differ. It almost seems +as if the stage-editors found something more congenial in a text made up from +the actors' recollections, plentifully adorned with what we now call +"gag." They appear to forget one capital fact: that Shakespeare was +at once actor, author, and manager,—that he wrote for the stage +exclusively, producing plays for the immediate use of his own company,—and +that his plays may therefore be reasonably supposed to be "adapted to +representation" in their original state. Does Mr. Crummles know better +than Master Shakespeare knew how "Romeo and Juliet" should be ended +with the best effect,—not only to the ear in the closet, but theatrically +on the stage? The story was not a new one; and the dramatist deliberately +followed one of two existing versions rather than the other. In <span lang=FR>Boisteau's</span> +translation of <span lang=FR>Bandello's</span> novel, Juliet wakes from her +trance before Romeo's death; in Brooke's poem, which the great master chose to +adopt as his authority, all is over, and she wakes to find her lover dead. <span +lang=FR>Garrick</span> must needs know better than Shakespeare, the actor-author; +and no stage Romeo has the grace to die until he has, in elegant phrase, +"piled up the agony" with lines like these:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"JULIET. ... Death's in thy face.</p> + +<p class=Drama>ROM. <i>It is indeed</i>. I struggle with him now:</p> + +<p class=Drama>The transports that I felt,</p> + +<p class=Drama>To hear thee speak, and see thy opening eyes,</p> + +<p class=Drama>Stopped, for a moment, his impetuous course,</p> + +<p class=Drama>And all my mind was happiness and thee:—</p> + +<p class=Drama>But now," etc.,</p> + +<p class=Drama>"My powers are blasted;</p> + +<p class=Drama>'Twist death and love I'm torn, I am distracted;</p> + +<p class=Drama><i>But death is strongest</i>."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And then, to give a chance for the <span lang=EN-GB>manoeuvre</span> +beloved by dying actors,—that getting up and falling back into the arms +of the actress kneeling by him, with a proper amount of gasping and eyes +rolling in delirium,—the stage Romeo adds:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"ROM. She is my wife,—our hearts are twined together:—</p> + +<p class=Drama>Capulet, forbear:—Paris, loose your hold:—</p> + +<p class=Drama>Pull not our heart-strings thus;—they crack,—they +break:—</p> + +<p class=Drama>Oh, Juliet, Juliet!"</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>Dies. Juliet faints on his body.</i></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Is this <span lang=FR>Garrick</span> or <span lang=FR>Otway</span>? +(for I believe <span lang=FR>Garrick</span> borrowed some of his improvements +from <span lang=FR>Otway's</span> "Caius Marius.") I don't know, and +don't care. It is not Shakespeare. It may "show something of the skill of +kindred genius," as the preface to the acting edition says it does. I +confess I do not see it. I would have such bombast delivered with the +traditional accompaniment of red fire; and the curtain should descend +majestically to the sound of slow music. That would be consistent and +appropriate.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It has always been a consoling thought to Englishmen that +Shakespeare exists for them alone,—or that a Frenchman's nature, at +least, makes it hopeless for him to try to understand the great dramatist. They +confess that their neighbors know how to construct the plot of a comedy, and +prove the honesty of their approval by "borrowing" whatever they can +make useful. French tragedies they despise—(though a century ago the new English +tragedies were generally <span lang=FR>Corneille</span> or Racine in disguise). +As to Shakespeare, it has time out of mind been an article of faith with the +insolent insulars that he is quite above any Frenchman's reach. One by one they +are driven from their foolish prejudices, and made to confess that Frenchmen <i>may</i> +equal them in some serious things, as well as beat them in all the lighter +accomplishments. French iron-clad steamers have been followed by the curious +spectacle of a French actor teaching an English audience how Shakespeare should +be acted. I would give a good deal to see M. Fechter in Hamlet, Othello, or Iago,—the +only parts he has yet attempted; the rather, because the low condition of the +stage in England, where Mr. Macready and Mr. Charles <span lang=FR>Kean</span> +are called great actors, makes the English newspaper-criticisms of little +value. In default of this, I have been reading M. <span lang=FR>Fechter's</span> +acting edition of "Othello," which a friend kindly sent me from London. +It is a curiosity,—not the text, which is incorrect, full of arbitrary +changes, and punctuated in a way almost unintelligible to an English eye: +colons being scattered about with truly French profusion. The stage-directions +are the interest of the book. They are so many and so minute that it seems a +wonder why they were printed, if M. Fechter is sincere in declaring that he has +no desire to force others to follow in his exact footsteps in this part. But +they are generally so judicious, as well as original, that actors born with +English tongues in their heads may well be ashamed that a foreigner could find +so many new and effective resources on their own ground. For example: when +Othello and Iago are first met by the enraged Brabantio, the Moor is standing +on the threshold of his house, having just opened the door with a key taken +from his girdle. He is going in, when he sees the lights <span lang=FR>borne</span> +by the other party. Observe how Othello's honest frankness is shown by the +action:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"OTH. But look: what lights come yonder?</p> + +<p class=Drama>IAGO. These are the raised father and his friends.</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>Othello shuts the door quickly and takes the key.</i></p> + +<p class=Drama>You were best go in.</p> + +<p class=Drama>OTH. [<i>coming forward</i>], Not I: I must be found!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Again, at the end of this scene, see how thoroughly the +editor has studied the legitimate dramatic effect of the situations, preserving +to each person his due place and characteristic manner:—</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"BRAB. [<i>To his followers</i>]. Bring him away!</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>They advance to take Othello, who puts them back with a +look.</i></p> + +<p class=Drama>Mine's not an idle cause:</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>Passes before Othello, who bows to him with respect.</i></p> + +<p class=Drama>The Duke himself," etc.</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>Exit, preceded by the servants of the Senate. His followers +are about to pass; Othello stays them, beckons to Cassio, and exit with him. +The rest follow, humbly.</i></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The scene wherein Iago first begins to poison the Moor's +mind is admirable in the situations and movements of the actors. A great +variety is given to the dialogue by the minute directions set down for the +guidance of the players. It would be tedious to give them in detail; but I must +point out the truth of one action, near the end. The poison is working; but as +yet Othello cannot believe he is so wronged,—he is only "perplexed +in the extreme,"—not yet transformed quite out of his noble nature.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"OTH. [dismissing Iago with a gesture]. Farewell! farewell!</p> + +<p class=Drama>[Stopping him, as he goes to the door on the right.</p> + +<p class=Drama>If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:</p> + +<p class=Drama>Set on thy wife to observe——</p> + +<p class=Drama>[He stops, suffused with shame, and crosses before Iago, without +looking at him.</p> + +<p class=Drama>Leave me, Iago.</p> + +<p class=Drama>IAGO. My lord, I take my leave."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This is an idea worthy of a great actor; and of M. <span +lang=FR>Fechter's</span> acting here an English critic says,—"Delicate +in its conception and <span lang=EN-GB>marvellous</span> in its close adherence +to Nature is the expression that accompanies the words. The actor's face is +literally suffused with a burning blush; and, as he buries his face in his +hands, we almost fancy we see the scalding tears force their way through the +trembling fingers and adorn the shame-reddened cheeks." The same writer +goes on to praise "the ingenuity and novelty of the glance at the +reflection of his dark face in the mirror, which suggests the words, 'Haply for +I am black.'" I cannot agree. Othello had been too often reproached with +his swarthy skin and likened to the Devil by Desdemona's father to need any +such commonplace reminder of his defects, in his agony of doubt. It is, +however, a fair ground for difference of opinion. But when the same artifice is +resorted to in the last act to explain the words, "It is the cause, it is +the cause, my soul!!"—and Othello is made to take up a toilet-glass +which has fallen from Desdemona's hand,—it becomes a vile conceit, +unworthy of the situation or of an actor like Fechter. A man does not look in +the glass, and talk about his complexion, when he is going to kill what he +loves best in life; and if the words are broken and unintelligible, they are +all the truer to Nature. The whole of the last act, as arranged by Fechter, is bad. +There is no propriety in directing Desdemona to leave her bed and walk about,—to +say nothing of the scramble that must ensue when Othello "in mad fury +throws her onto the bed" again. But what shall we say of this?</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama>"OTH. What noise is this?</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>He turns to the side whence the noise comes, and raises the +pillow, but, as Desdemona stirs, replaces it abruptly.</i></p> + +<p class=Drama>Not dead! Not yet quite dead!</p> + +<p class=Drama>I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;</p> + +<p class=Drama>I would not have thee linger in thy pain.</p> + +<p class=Drama>[<i>Passing his </i><i><span lang=FR>poignard</span> under the +pillow, and turning away his eyes,</i></p> + +<p class=Drama>So,—so."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What, but that it is utterly vile and melodramatic, contrary +to Othello's expressed resolve, and quite unnecessary?—for a better +effect would be produced, if the actor averted his head and with both hands +pressed hard upon the pillow, trembling in every limb at the horrible deed he +is forced, in mercy, to bring to a quick end. This idea of stabbing Desdemona +at last is not original with Fechter,—who here, and in several other +places, has consented to follow our stage-traditions, and has been led astray.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Shakespeare on the stage is a sad falling off from +Shakespeare in the closet. (I do not mean on the American stage only: the +theatre in England is, if possible, lower than with us.) To a great extent this +is unavoidable. Our imaginations are not kept in check by the pitiless limits +that make themselves felt in the theatre. An army, when we read of it, seems +something far grander than all that can be effected by the best-appointed +company of actors. The forest of Ardennes has for us life and motion beyond the +reach of the scene-painter's skill. But these necessary shortcomings are no +excuse for making no attempt to imitate Nature. Yet hardly any serious effort +is made to reach this purpose of playing. The ordinary arrangement of our stage +is as bad as bad can be, for it fails to look like the places where the action +is supposed to <span lang=FR>lie</span>. Two rows of narrow screens stretching +down from the ends of a broad screen at the back never can be made to look like +a room, still less like a grove. Such an arrangement may be convenient for the +carpenters or scene-shifters, and is very likely cheaper than a properly +designed interior. But it does not look like what it pretends to be, and has +been superseded on every stage but ours and the English by properly constructed +scenery. Who ever went into a French theatre for the first time without being +charmed by the <i>reality</i> of the scene? They take the trouble to build a +room, when a room is wanted, with side-walls and doors, and often a ceiling. +The consequence is, you can fancy yourself present at a scene taken from real +life. The theatre goes no farther than the proscenium. Beyond that, you have a +parlor, with one wall removed for your better view. It is <span lang=FR>Asmodeus's</span> +show improved. I went to a Paris theatre with a friend. The play began with +half a dozen milliners chattering and sewing round a table. After a few +moments, my friend gave a prodigious yawn, and declared he was going home, +"for you might as well sit down and see a parcel of real milliners at work +as this play." Tastes differ; and I did not find this an objection. But +what a compliment that was to the whole corps,—actors, actresses, and +scene-painter!—and how impossible it would be to make the same complaint +of an English play!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"But," I have been told by theatrical people, +"such an arrangement is all very well in French vaudevilles, where one +scene lasts through an act; but it will not do for English plays, with their +constant scene-shifting." I grant it is less convenient to the stage-manager +than the present wretched assembly of screens; but it is not impracticable in +any play. Witness the melodramas which are the delight of the patrons of the +minor Paris theatres,—<i><span lang=FR>pièces</span><span lang=FR> </span></i><i><span +lang=FR>à</span> spectacle en 4 </i><i><span lang=FR>actes</span> et 24 +tableaux</i>, that is, twenty-four changes of scene. I remember sitting through +one which was so deadly stupid that nothing but the ingenuity of the stage-arrangements +made it endurable. Side-scenes dropped down into their places,—"flats" +fell through the stage or were drawn up out of sight,—trees and rocks +rose out of the earth,—in a word, scenery that looked like reality, and +not like canvas, was disposed and cleared away with such <span lang=EN-GB>marvellous</span> +rapidity that I forgot to yawn over the play. Attention to these matters is +almost unknown with us: perhaps, in strict justice, I ought to say was unknown +until very lately. Within a few years, one or two of our theatres have profited +by the example set by stage-managers abroad. At <span lang=FR>Wallack's</span>, +in New York, <i>rooms</i> have to a great extent taken the place of the old <i>screens</i>; +and only the other night at the Boston Museum I saw an arrangement of scenery +which really helped the illusion.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Let us hope there may be a speedy reform in the matter of +the costume of the players,—at least in plays where the dresses are of +our own time. You may count on your fingers the actresses in America who dress +on the stage as <i>ladies</i> dress in polite society. And as for the actors, I +am afraid one hand has too many fingers for the tally. Because people go to the +President's Ball in frock-coats is no reason why actors who undertake to look +like fashionable gentlemen should outrage all conventional rules. I once saw a +play in which a gentleman came to make an informal morning-visit to a lady in +the country, in that dress which has received the bitterly ironical name of +"full American uniform," that is to say, black dress-coat and +trousers and black satin waistcoat; and the costume was made even more complete +by a black satin <i>tie</i>, of many plaits, with a huge dull diamond pin in +it, and a long steel watch-chain dangling upon the wretched man's stomach. He +might have played his part to perfection,—which he did not, but murdered +it in cold blood,—but he <i>might</i> have done so in vain; nothing would +or could absolve him from such a crime against the god of fashion or propriety. +"Little things, these," the critic may say: and so our actors seem to +think. But life is made up of little things; and if you would paint life, you +must attend to them. Ask any one who has spent (wasted?) evening after evening +at the Paris theatres about them; and, ten to one, he begins by praising the +details, which, in their sum, conveyed the impression of perfection he brought +away with him.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Unless you are a little cracked on the subject of the stage, +(as I confess I am,) and have talked with a French actor about it, you have no +idea how systematically they train their young actors. I will tell you a few of +the odd facts I picked up in long talks with my friend Monsieur D——. +of the <span lang=FR>Théâtre</span><span lang=FR> </span><span lang=FR>Français</span>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Conservatoire, their great school for actors, is, like +almost everything else in Paris, more or less under Government control,—the +Minister of State being charged with its superintendence. He appoints the +professors, who are actors of the <span lang=FR>Français</span>, and receive a +salary of two thousand francs. The first order a pupil receives, on presenting +himself for instruction, is this: "Say <i>rose</i>." Now your +Parisian rather prides himself on a peculiar pronunciation of the letter <i>r</i>. +He neither rolls it like an Italian, nor does he make anything like the noise +standing for <i>r</i> in our conversational English,—something like <i>uhr-</i><i><span +lang=FR>ose</span></i>,—a sound said to be peculiar to our language. A +Parisian rolls his r, by making his <i>uvula</i> vibrate, keeping the tongue +quite still: producing a peculiar gurgling sound. This is an abomination in the +ears of the Conservatoire. "<span lang=FR>Ne</span><span lang=FR> </span><i><span +lang=FR>grasseyez</span></i> donc pas, Monsieur," or +"Mademoiselle," says the professor, fiercely,—this peculiar way +of saying <i>r</i> being called <i><span lang=FR>grasseyement</span></i>. The +pupil tries again, using the tip of his tongue this time. "Ah! I thought +so. Your <i>r</i> is pasty (<i><span lang=FR>empâté</span></i>). Say <i>tuddah!</i>" +(I spell this sound <i><span lang=FR>à</span><span lang=FR> </span></i><i><span +lang=FR>l'Anglaise</span></i>.) "<i>Tuddah</i>" repeats the wondering +candidate. "<i>Thuddah?</i>" the professor repeats, with great +disgust: "I did not ask you to say <i>thuddah</i>, but <i>tuddah</i>." +The victim tries again and again, and thinks he succeeds; but the master does +not agree with him. His delicate ear detects a certain thickness of +enunciation,—which our <i><span lang=FR>th</span></i> very imperfectly +represents,—a want of crispness, as it were. The tip of the tongue does +not strike the front teeth with a single <i>tick</i>, as sharp as a needle-point; +and until he can do this, the pupil can do nothing. He is dismissed with the +advice to say "<i>tuddah, tuddah, tuddah</i>," as many hours a day as +he can without losing his mind. D—— told me he often met young men +walking about the streets in all the agonies of this first step in the art of +learning to act, and astonishing the passers-by with this mysterious jargon. A +pupil of average quickness and nicety of ear learns to say tuddah in about a +month. Then he is told to say <i>rose</i> once more. The training his tongue +has received enables him to use only its very tip. A great point is gained: he +can pronounce the <i>r</i>. Any other defects in pronunciation which he has are +next attacked and corrected. Then he is drilled in moving, standing, and +carriage. And finally, "a quantity of practice truly prodigious" is +given to the <i><span lang=FR>ancien</span><span lang=FR> </span></i><i><span +lang=FR>répertoire</span>,</i>—the classic models of French dramatic +literature, <span lang=FR>Corneille</span>, Racine, <span lang=FR>Molière</span>, +<span lang=FR>Beaumarchais</span>, etc. The first scholar of each year has the +right to appear at once at the <span lang=FR>Théâtre</span><span lang=FR> </span><span +lang=FR>Français</span>,—a right rarely claimed, as most young actors +prefer to go through a novitiate elsewhere to braving the most critical +audience in the world before they have acquired the confidence that comes only +with habit and success. After he has gained a foothold at this classic theatre, +an actor still sees prizes held out to stimulate his ambition. If he keeps the +promise of his youth, he may hope to be chosen a stockholder (<i><span lang=FR>sociétaire</span></i>), +and thus obtain a share both in the direction of affairs and in the profits, +besides a retiring pension, depending in, amount upon his term of service.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><i>Panem, et </i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>circenses</span></i> +is the demand of modern Paris, as it was of old Rome,—and the people +expect the Government to see that neither supply fails. While the Opera +receives large sums to pay for gorgeous scenery and dresses, the <span lang=FR>Français</span><span +lang=FR> </span>is paid for devoting three nights in the week to the classical +school: a real loss to the theatre at times when the fickle public would gladly +crowd the house to applaud the success of the hour. The Minister of State +interferes as seldom as possible with the management; but when he speaks, his +word is law. This was queerly shown in a dispute about Rachel's <i><span +lang=FR>congés</span></i>. At first she played during nine months of the year +three times a week; later her duties were reduced to six months in the year, +playing only twice a week, at a salary of forty thousand francs, with five +hundred francs for every extra performance. Spoiled by indulgence, she demanded +leave of absence just when the Queen of England was coming to Paris. The +manager indignantly refused. The next day the Minister of State politely +requested that Mlle. Rachel might have a short <i><span lang=FR>congé</span></i>. +"It is not reasonable," said the poor manager. "We have cut down +her duties and raised her salary; now the Queen is coming, Paris will be full +of English, and they are always crazy after Mlle. Rachel. It is really out of +the question, <i>Monsieur le </i><i><span lang=FR>Ministre</span></i>." +The Minister was very sorry, but hoped there would be no real difficulty. The +manager was equally sorry, but really he could not think of it. "<i>Monsieur,</i>" +said the Minister, rising and dismissing the manager, "<i><span lang=FR>il</span> +le </i><i><span lang=FR>faut</span>," "Oh, </i><i><span lang=FR>il</span> +le </i><i><span lang=FR>faut</span>?</i> Then it <i>must</i>;—only you +might as well have begun with that." And so Rachel got her leave of +absence.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>(I must insert here from my note-book a criticism on Rachel,—valuable +as coming from a man of talent in her own profession who had worked with her +for years, and deserving additional weight, as it was, no doubt, rather the +collective judgment of her fellow-actors than the opinion of the speaker +alone.)</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Rachel," said M. D——, "was a +great genius,—but a genius that ever needed the hand of a master to guide +its efforts. Without this, she could do nothing: and Samson was forever behind +her, directing her steps. Mme. Allan, who weighed almost three hundred pounds +and had an abominable voice, was infinitely her superior in the power of +creating a part. But Rachel had the voice of an angel. In the expression of +disdain or terror she was unapproachable. In the softer passions she was +feeble. We all looked upon her <i>Lady Tartuffe</i> as a failure."</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Such a school of acting as the Conservatoire and the <span +lang=FR>Français</span> form could of course never be seen in America. The idea +of our popular practical Government undertaking to direct the amusements of the +people is quite ludicrous. In France, the Government does all it can for the +people. With us, the people are left to do everything for themselves, with the +least possible amount of Government interference. Our play-writers and play-actors +could do a great deal to raise the standard of stage-literature and of acting, +if they would but try. But they do not try. I went the other evening to see +that relic of the Dark Ages, a sterling English comedy. If any one thinks I go +too far in saying that there is no attempt on our stage to imitate Nature, and +that the writing and acting of English plays are like the landscape-painting of +the Chinese,—a wonderfully good copy of the absurdities handed down +through generations of artists,—let him go and look at one of these +plays. He will see the choleric East-India uncle, with a red face, and a +Malacca cane held by the middle, stumping about, and bullying his nephew,—"a +young rascal,"—or his niece,—"you baggage, you." +When this young person wishes to have a good talk with a friend, they stand up +behind the footlights to do it; and the audience is let into secrets essential +to the plot by means of long "asides" delivered by one, while the +other does nothing and pretends not to hear what is spoken within three feet of +him. The waiting-maid behaves in a way that would get her turned out of any +respectable house, and is chased off the stage by the old gentleman in a manner +that no gentleman ever chases his servants. Something is the matter with the +men's legs: they all move by two steps and a hitch. They all speak with an +intonation as unlike the English of real life as if they talked Greek. The +young people make fools of the old people in a way they would never dream of in +life,—and the old people are preternaturally stupid in submitting to be +made fools of. After seeing one of these classics, let the spectator sit down +and honestly ask himself if this is an attempt to hold the mirror up to Nature, +or an effort to reflect the traditional manners and customs of the stage.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>If he thinks he has ever seen anything of the sort in real +life, we will agree to differ.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class=Section2> + +<p class=MsoNormal> </p> + +<p class=Chapter>OFF SHORE.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky!</p> + +<p class=Poem>Only the stars behold us, where we <span lang=FR>lie</span>,—</p> + +<p class=Poem>Only the stars, and yonder brightening moon.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>On the wide sea to-night alone are we:</p> + +<p class=Poem>The sweet, bright, summer day dies silently;</p> + +<p class=Poem>Its glowing sunset will have faded soon.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Rock softly, little boat, the while I mark</p> + +<p class=Poem>The far-off gliding sails, distinct and dark,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Across the west pass steadily and slow.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>But on the eastern waters sad they change</p> + +<p class=Poem>And vanish, dream-like, gray and cold and strange,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And no one knoweth whither they may go.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>We care not, we, drifting with wind and tide,</p> + +<p class=Poem>With glad waves darkening upon every side,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Save where the moon sends silver sparkles down,</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And yonder slender stream of changing light,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Now white, now crimson, tremulously bright,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Where dark the light-house stands, with fiery crown.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Thick falls the dew, soundless, on sea and shore;</p> + +<p class=Poem>It shines on little boat and idle oar,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Wherever moonbeams touch with tranquil glow.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>The waves are full of whispers wild and sweet;</p> + +<p class=Poem>They call to me; incessantly they beat</p> + +<p class=Poem>Along the boat from stem to curvèd prow.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Comes the careering wind, blows back my hair</p> + +<p class=Poem>All damp with dew, to kiss me unaware,—</p> + +<p class=Poem>Murmuring, "Thee I love,"—and passes on.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Sweet sounds on rocky shores the distant rote.</p> + +<p class=Poem>Oh, could we float forever, little boat,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Under the blissful sky drifting alone!</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section3> + +<p class=Chapter>LIFE IN THE OPEN AIR.</p> + +<p class=Section>BY THE AUTHOR OF "CECIL DREEME" AND "JOHN +BRENT."</p> + +<p class=Section>KATAHDIN AND THE PENOBSCOT.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>CHAPTER IV.</p> + +<p class=ChapterDescription>UMBAGOG.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Rain ends, as even Noah and the Arkites discovered. The new +sensation of tickling frogs could entertain us for one day; bounteous Nature +provided other novelties for the next. We were at the Umbagog chain of lakes, +and while it rained the damster had purveyed us a boat and crew. At sunrise he <span +lang=EN-GB>despatched</span> us on our voyage. We launched upon the Androscoggin, +in a <i>bateau</i> of the old Canadian type. Such light, clincher-built, high-nosed, +flat-bottomed boats are in use wherever the fur-traders are or have been. Just +such boats navigate the Saskatchawan of the North, or Frazer's River of the +Northwest; and in a larger counterpart of our Androscoggin bark I had three +years before floated down the magnificent Columbia to Vancouver, bedded on +bales of beaver-skins.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As soon as sunrise wrote itself in shadows over the +sparkling water, as soon as through the river-side belt of gnarled arbor-vitae +sunbeams flickered, we pushed off, rowed up-stream by a pair of stout +lumbermen. The river was a beautiful way, admitting us into the <i>penetralia</i> +of virgin forests. It was not a rude wilderness: all that Northern woods have +of foliage, verdurous, slender, delicate, tremulous, overhung our shadowy path, +dense as the vines that drape a tropic stream. Every giant tree, every one of +the Pinus oligarchy, had been lumbered away: refined sylvan beauty remained. +The dam checked the river's turbulence, making it slow and mirror-like. It +merited a more melodious name than harsh Androscoggin.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Five miles of such enchanting voyage brought us to Lake Umbagog. +Whiff's of mist had met us in the outlet. Presently we opened chaos, and chaos +shut in upon us. There was no Umbagog to be seen,—nothing but a few yards +of gray water and a world of gray vapor. Therefore I cannot criticize, nor +insult, nor compliment Umbagog. Let us deem it beautiful. The sun tried at the +fog, to lift it with leverage of his early level beams. Failing in this attempt +to stir and heave away the mass, he climbed, and began to use his beams as +wedges, driving them down more perpendicularly. Whenever this industrious craftsman +made a successful split, the fog gaped, and we could see for a moment, +indefinitely, an expanse of water, hedged with gloomy forest, and owning for +its dominant height a wild mountain, Aziscohos, or, briefer, Esquihos.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But the fog was still too dense to be riven by slanting +sunbeams. It closed again in solider phalanx. Our gray cell shut close about +us. Esquihos and the distance became nowhere. In fact, ourselves would have +been nowhere, except that a sluggish damp wind puffed sometimes, and steering +into this we could guide our way within a few points of our course.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Any <span lang=EN-GB>traveller</span> knows that it is no +very crushing disappointment not to see what he came to see. Outside sights +give something, but inside joys are independent. We enjoyed our dim damp voyage +heartily, on that wide loneliness. Nor were our shouts and laughter the only +sounds. Loons would sometimes wail to us, as they dived, black dots in the +mist. Then we would wait for their bulbous reappearance, and let fly the futile +shot with its muffled report,—missing, of course.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>No being has ever shot a loon, though several have legends +of some one who has. Sound has no power to express a profounder emotion of +utter loneliness than the loon's cry. Standing in <span lang=EN-GB>piny</span> +darkness on the lake's bank, or floating in dimness of mist or glimmer of +twilight on its surface, you hear this wailing note, and all possibility of +human tenancy by the shore or human voyaging is annihilated. You can fancy no +response to this signal of solitude disturbed, and again it comes sadly over +the water, the despairing plaint of some companionless and incomplete +existence, exiled from happiness it has never known, and conscious only of +blank and utter want. Loon-skins have a commercial value; so it is reported. +The Barabinzians of Siberia, a nation "up beyond the River Ob," tan +them into water-proof <i><span lang=FR>paletots</span></i> or <i>aquascutums</i>. +How they catch their loon, before they skin their loon, is one of the mysteries +of that unknown realm.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Og, <span lang=FR>Gog</span>, <span lang=FR>Magog</span>, Memphremagog, +all agog, Umbagog,—certainly the American Indians were the Lost Tribes, +and conserved the old familiar syllables in their new home.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Rowing into the damp breeze, we by-and-by traversed the +lake. We had gained nothing but a fact of distance. But here was to be an +interlude of interest. The "thoro'fare" linking Umbagog to its next +neighbor is no thoro'fare for a <i>bateau</i>, since a <i>bateau</i> cannot +climb through breakers over boulders. We must make a "carry," an +actual portage, such as in all chronicles of pioneer voyages strike like the +excitement of rapids into the monotonous course of easy descent. Another boat +was ready on the next lake, but our chattels must go three miles through the +woods. Yes, we now were to achieve a portage. Consider it, <i>blasé</i> friend,—was +not this sensation alone worth the trip?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The worthy lumbermen, and our supernumerary, the damster's +son, staggered along slowly with our traps. <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> +and I, having nothing to carry, enjoyed the carry. We lounged along through the +glades, now sunny for the moment, and dallied with raspberries and blueberries, +finer than any ever seen. The latter henceforth began to impurple our blood. Maine +is lusciously carpeted with them.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As we oozed along the overgrown trail, dripping still with +last night's rain, drops would alight upon our necks and trickle down our +backs. A wet spine excites hunger,—if a pedestrian on a portage, after +voyaging from sunrise, needs any appetizer when his shadow marks noon. We halted, fired up, and lunched vigorously on toasted pork and trimmings. As pork +must be the Omega in forest-fare, it is well to make it the Alpha. Fate thus +becomes choice. Citizens uneducated to forest-life with much pains transport +into the woods sealed cans of what they deem will dainties be, and scoff at +woodsmen frizzling slices of pork on a pointed stick. But Experience does not +disdain a Cockney. She broods over him, and will by-and-by hatch him into a +full-fledged forester. After such incubation, he will recognize his natural +food, and compactest fuel for the lamp of life. He will take to his pork like +mother's milk.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Our dessert of raspberries grew all along the path, and +lured us on to a log-station by the water, where we found another <i>bateau</i> +ready to transport us over Lakes Weelocksebacook, Allegundabagog, and Mollychunkamug. +Doubters may smile and smile at these names, but they are geography.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We do not commit ourselves to further judgment upon the +first than that it is doubtless worthy of its name. My own opinion is, that the +scenery felt that it was dullish, and was ashamed to "exhibit" to <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>; if he pronounced a condemnation, Umbagog and its +sisters feared that they would be degraded to fish-ponds merely. Therefore they +veiled themselves. Mists hung low over the leaden waters, and blacker clouds +crushed the pine-dark hills.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A fair curve of sandy beach separates Weelocksebacook from +its neighbor. There is buried one Melattach, an Indian chief. Of course there +has been found in Maine some one irreverent enough to trot a lame Pegasus over +this grave, and accuse the frowzy old red-skin of Christian virtues and +delicate romance.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There were no portages this afternoon. We took the three +lakes at easy speed, persuading ourselves that scenes fog would not let us see +were unscenic. It is well that a man should think what he cannot get unworthy of +his getting. As evening came, the sun made another effort, with the aid of west +winds, at the mist. The sun cleft, the breeze drove. Suddenly the battle was +done, victory easily gained. We were cheered by a gush of level sunlight. Even +the dull, gray vapor became a transfigured and beautiful essence. Dull and +uniform it had hung over the land; now the plastic winds quarried it, and +shaped the whole mass into individuals, each with its character. To the cloud-forms +<span lang=EN-GB>modelled</span> out of formlessness the winds gave life of +motion, sunshine gave life of light, and they hastened through the lower +atmosphere, or sailed lingering across the blue breadths of mid-heaven, or +dwelt peacefully aloft in the region of the <i>cirri</i>; and whether trailing +gauzy robes in flight, or moving stately, or dwelling on high where scope of +vision makes travel needless, they were still the brightest, the gracefullest, +the purest beings that Earth creates for man's most delicate pleasure.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When it cleared,—when it purveyed us a broadening zone +of blue sky and a heavenful of brilliant cloud-creatures, we were sailing over Lake + Mollychunkamug. Fair Mollychunkamug had not smiled for us until now;—now +a sunny grin spread over her smooth cheeks. She was all smiling, and presently, +as the breeze dimpled her, all a "snicker" up into the roots of her +hair, up among her forest-tresses. Mollychunkamug! Who could be aught but gay, +gay even to the farcical, when on such a name? Is it Indian? Bewildered Indian +we deem it,—transmogrified somewhat from aboriginal sound by the fond +imagination of some lumberman, finding in it a sweet memorial of his Mary far +away in the kitchens of the Kennebec, his Mary so rotund of blooming cheek, his +Molly of the chunky mug. To him who truly loves, all Nature is filled with Amaryllidian +echoes. Every sight and every sound recalls her who need not be recalled, to a +heart that has never dislodged her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We lingered over our interview with Mollychunkamug. She may +not be numbered among the great beauties of the world; nevertheless, she is an +attractive squaw,—a very honest bit of flat-faced prettiness in the +wilderness.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Above Mollychunkamug is Moosetocmaguntic Lake. Another <span +lang=FR>innavigable</span><span lang=FR> </span>thoro'fare unites them. A dam +of Titanic crib-work, fifteen hundred feet long, confines the upper waters. +Near this we disembarked. We balanced ourselves along the timbers of the dam, +and reached a huge log-cabin at its farther end.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Killgrove, the damster, came forth and offered us the +freedom of his settlement in a tobacco-box. Tobacco is hospitality in the compactest +form. Civilization has determined that tobacco, especially in the shape of +smoke, is essential as food, water, or air. The pipe is everywhere the pipe of +peace. Peace, then, and anodyne-repose, after a day of travel, were offered us +by the friendly damster.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A squad of lumbermen were our new fellow-citizens. These +soldiers of the outermost outpost were in the regulation-uniform,—red-flannel +shirts, impurpled by wetting, big boots, and old felt-hats. Blood-red is the +true soldierly color. All the residents of <span lang=FR>Damville</span> dwelt +in a great log-barrack, the <span lang=FR>Hôtel</span>-de-Ville. Its +architecture was of the early American style, and possessed the high art of +simplicity. It was solid, not gingerbreadesque. Primeval American art has a +rude dignity, far better than the sham splendors of our mediaeval and +transition period.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Our new friends, luxurious fellows, had been favored by Fate +with a French-Canadian cook, himself a Three of <span lang=FR>Frères</span><span +lang=FR> </span><span lang=FR>Provinciaux</span>. Such was his reputation. We +saw by the eye of him, and by his nose, formed for comprehending fragrances, +and by the lines of refined taste converging from his whole face toward his +mouth, that he was one to detect and sniff gastronomic possibilities in the +humblest materials. Joseph Bourgogne looked the cook. His phiz gave us faith in +him; eyes small and discriminating; nose upturned, nostrils expanded and +receptive; mouth saucy in the literal sense. His voice, moreover, was a cook's,—thick +in articulation, dulcet in tone. He spoke as if he deemed that a throat was +created for better uses than laboriously manufacturing words,—as if the +object of a mouth were to receive tribute, not to give commands,—as if +that pink stalactite, his palate, were more used by delicacies entering than by +rough words or sorry sighs going out of the inner caverns.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When we find the right man in the right place, our minds are +at ease. The future becomes satisfactory as the past. Anticipation is glad +certainty, not anxious doubt. Trusting our gastronomic welfare fully to this +great artist, we tried for fish below the dam. Only petty fishlings, weighing +ounces, took the bit between their teeth. We therefore doffed the fisherman and +donned the artist and poet, and chased our own fancies down the dark whirlpooling +river, along its dell of evergreens, now lurid with the last glows of twilight. +<span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> and I continued dreamily gazing down the thoro'fare +toward Mollychunkamug only a certain length of time. Man keeps up to his +highest elations hardly longer than a <i>danseuse</i> can poise in a <i>pose</i>. +To be conscious of the highest beauty demands an involuntary intentness of +observation so fanatically eager that presently we are prostrated and need +stimulants. And just as we sensitively felt this exhaustion and this need, we +heard a suggestive voice calling us from the front-door of the mansion-house of +<span lang=FR>Damville</span>, and "Supper" was the cry.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A call to the table may quell and may awaken romance. When, +in some abode of poetized luxury, the "silver knell" sounds musically +six, and a door opens toward a glitter that is not pewter and Wedgewood, and, +with a being fair and changeful as a sunset cloud upon my arm, I move under the +archway of blue curtains toward the asphodel and the nectar, then, O Reader! 0 +Friend! romance crowds into my heart, as color and fragrance crowd into a rose-bud. +Joseph Bourgogne, cook at <span lang=FR>Damville</span> on Moosetocmaguntic, +could not offer us such substitute for aesthetic emotions. But his voice of an +artist created a winning picture half veiled with mists, evanescent and +affectionate, such as linger fondly over Pork-and-Beans.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Fancied joy soon to become fact. We entered the barrack. +Beneath its smoky roof-tree was a pervading aroma; near the centre of that +aroma, a table dim with wefts of incense; at the innermost centre of that aroma +and that incense, and whence those visible and viewless fountains streamed, was +their source,—a Dish of Pork-and-Beans.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Topmostly this. There were lesser viands, buttresses to this +towering triumph. Minor smokes from minor censers. A circle of little craterlings +about the great crater,—of little fiery cones about that great volcanic +dome in the midst, unopened, but bursting with bounty. We sat down, and one of +the red-shirted boldly crushed the smoking dome. The brave fellow plunged in +with a spoon and heaped our plates.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><i>A priori</i> we had deduced Joseph <span lang=FR>Bourgogne's</span> +results from inspection of Joseph. Now we could reason back from one <i>experimentum +</i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>crucis</span></i> cooked by him. Effect and cause +were worthy of each other.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The average world must be revenged upon Genius. Greatness +must be punished by itself or another. Joseph Bourgogne was no exception to the +laws of the misery of Genius. He had a distressing trait, whose exhibition +tickled the <i><span lang=FR>dura</span><span lang=FR> </span>ilia</i> of the +reapers of the forest. Joseph, poet-cook, was sensitive to new ideas. This sensitiveness +to the peremptory thought made him the slave of the wags of <span lang=FR>Damville</span>. +Whenever he had anything in his hands, at a stern, quick command he would drop +it nervously. Did he approach the table with a second dish of pork-and-beans, a +yellow dish of beans, browned delicately as a <span lang=FR>Sèvres</span> vase, +then would some full-fed rogue, waiting until Joseph was bending over some +devoted head, say sharply, "Drop that, Joseph!"—whereupon down +went dish and contents, emporridging the poll and person of the luckless wight +beneath. Always, were his burden pitcher of water, armful of wood, axe +dangerous to toes, mirror, or pudding, still followed the same result. And when +the poet-cook had done the mischief, he would stand shuddering at his work of +ruin, and sigh, and curse his too sensitive nature.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In honor of us, the damster kept order. Joseph disturbed the +banquet only by entering with new triumphs of Art. Last came a climax-pie,—contents +unknown. And when that dish, fit to set before a king, was opened, the poem of +our supper was complete. J. B. sailed to the Parnassus where Ude and <span +lang=FR>Vattel</span> feast, forever cooking immortal banquets in star-lighted +spheres.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Then we sat in the picturesque dimness of the lofty cabin, +under the void where the roof shut off the stars, and talked of the pine-woods, +of logging, measuring, and spring-drives, and of moose-hunting on snow-shoes, +until our mouths had a wild flavor more spicy than if we had chewed spruce-gum +by the hour. Spruce-gum is the aboriginal quid of these regions. Foresters chew +this tenacious morsel as tars nibble at a bit of oakum, grooms at a straw, Southerns +at tobacco, or school-girls at a slate-pencil.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The barrack was fitted up with bunks. <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> +rolled into one of these. I mummied myself in my blankets and did penance upon +a bench. Pine-knots in my pallet sought out my tenderest spots. The softer wood +was worn away about these projections. Hillocky was the surface, so that I beat +about uneasily and awoke often, ready to envy <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>. +But from him, also, I heard sounds of struggling.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>CHAPTER V.</p> + +<p class=ChapterDescription>UP THE LAKES.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Killgrove, slayer of forests, became the pilot of our +voyage up Lake Moosetocmaguntic. We shoved off in a <i>bateau</i>, while Joseph +Bourgogne, sad at losing us, stood among the stumps, waving adieux with a dish-clout. +We had solaced his soul with meed of praise. And now, alas! we left him to the +rude jokes and half-sympathies of the lumbermen. The artist-cook saw his +appreciators vanish away, and his proud dish-clout drooped like a defeated +banner.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A fine lake," remarked <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>, +instituting the <span lang=FR>matutinal</span> conversation in a safe and +general way.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes," returned Mr. Killgrove, "when you come +to get seven or eight feet more of water atop of this in spring, it is +considerable of a puddle."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Our weather seemed to be now bettering with more resolution. +Many days had passed since Aurora had shown herself,—many days since the +rising sun and the world had seen each other. But yesterday this sulky +estrangement ended, and, after the beautiful reconciliation at sunset, the +faint mists of doubt in their brief parting for a night had now no power +against the ardors of anticipated meeting. As we shot out upon the steaming +water, the sun was just looking over the lower ridges of a mountain opposite. +Air, blue and quivering, hung under shelter of the mountain-front, as if a film +from the dim purple of night were hiding there to see what beauty day had, +better than its own. The gray fog, so dreary for three mornings, was utterly +vanquished; all was vanished, save where "swimming vapors sloped athwart +the glen," and "crept from pine to pine." These had dallied, +like spies of a flying army, to watch for chances of its return; but they, too, +carried away by the enthusiasms of a world liberated and illumined, changed +their allegiance, joined the party of hope and progress, and added the grace of +their presence to the fair pageant of a better day.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Lake Moosetocmaguntic is good,—above the average. If +its name had but two syllables, and the thing named were near Somewhere, poetry +and rhetoric would celebrate it, and the world would be prouder of itself for +another "gem." Now nobody sees it, and those who do have had their +anticipations lengthened leagues by every syllable of its sesquipedalian title. +One expects, perhaps, something more than what he finds. He finds a good +average sheet of water, set in a circlet of dark forest,—forests sloping +up to wooded hills, and these to wooded mountains. Very good and satisfactory +elements, and worth notice,—especially when the artistic eye is also a +fisherman's eye, and he detects fishy spots. As to wilderness, there can be +none more complete. At the upper end of the lake is a trace of humanity in a +deserted cabin on a small clearing. There a hermit pair once lived,—man +and wife, utterly alone for fifteen years,—once or twice a year, perhaps, +visited by lumbermen. Fifteen years alone with a wife! a trial, certainly,—not +necessarily in the desponding sense of the word; not as Yankees have it, making +trial a misfortune, but a test.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Killgrove entertained us with resinous-flavored talk. +The voyage was unexcitingly pleasant. We passed an archipelago of scrubby +islands, and, turning away from a blue vista of hills northward, entered a +lovely curve of river richly overhung with arbor-vitae, a shadowy quiet reach +of clear water, crowded below its beautiful surface with reflected forest and +reflected sky.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"<span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>," said I, +"we divined how Mollychunkamug had its name; now, as to Moosetocmaguntic,—hence +that elongated appellative?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It was named," replied <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>, +"from the adventure of a certain hunter in these regions. He was moose-hunting +here in days gone by. His tale runs thus:—'I had been four days without game, +and naturally without anything to eat except pine-cones and green chestnuts. +There was no game in the forest. The trout would not bite, for I had no tackle +and no hook. I was starving. I sat me down, and rested my trusty, but futile +rifle against a fallen tree. Suddenly I heard a tread, turned my head, saw a +Moose,—took—my—gun,—tick! he was dead. I was saved. I +feasted, and in gratitude named the lake Moosetookmyguntick.' Geography has +modified it, but the name cannot be misunderstood."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We glided up the fair river, and presently came to the hut +of Mr. Smith, fisherman and misogynist. And there is little more to be said +about Mr. Smith. He appears in this chronicle because he owned a boat which +became our vehicle on Lake Oquossok, Aquessok, Lakewocket, or Rangeley. Mr. +Smith guided us across the carry to the next of the chain of lakes, and +embarked us in a crazy skiff. It was blowing fresh, and, not to be wrecked, we +coasted close to the gnarled arbor-vitae thickets. Smith sogered along, +drawling dull legends of trout-fishing.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Drefful notional critturs traout be," he said,—"olluz +bitin' atwhodger haänt got. Orful contrairy critturs,—jess like fimmls. Yer +can cotch a fimml with a feather, ef she's <span lang=FR>ter</span> be cotched; +ef she haänt <span lang=FR>ter</span> be cotched, yer may scoop ther hul world +dry an' yer haänt got her. Jess so traout."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The misogynist bored us with his dull philosophy. The +buffetings of inland waves were not only insulting, but dangerous, to our leaky +punt. At any moment, <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> and I might find +ourselves floundering together in thin fresh water. Joyfully, therefore, at +last, did we discern clearings, culture, and habitations at the lake-head. +There was no tavernous village of Rangeley; that would have been too great a +contrast, after the forest and the lakes, where loons are the only disturbers +of silence,—incongruity enough to overpower utterly the ringing of woodland +music in our hearts. Rangeley was a townless township, as the outermost +township should be. We had, however, learnt from Killgrove, feller of forests, +that there was a certain farmer on the lake, one of the chieftains of that +realm, who would hospitably entertain us. Smith, wheedler of trout, landed us +in quite an ambitious foamy surf at the foot of a declivity below our future +host's farm.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We had now traversed Lakes Umbagog, Weelocksebacook, Allegundabagog, +Mollychunkamug, Moosetocmaguntic, and Oquossok.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We had been compelled to pronounce these names constantly. +Of course our vocal organs were distorted. Of course our vocal nervous systems +were shattered, and we had a chronic lameness of the jaws. We therefore +recognized a peculiar appropriateness in the name of our host.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Toothaker was his name. He dwelt upon the lawn-like bank, a +hundred feet above the lake. Mr. Toothaker himself was absent, but his wife +received us hospitably, disposed us in her guest-chamber, and gratified us with +a supper.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This was Rangeley Township, the outer settlement on the west +side of Maine. A "squire" from England gave it his name. He bought +the tract, named it, inhabited several years, a popular squire-arch, and then +returned from the wild to the tame, from pine woods and stumpy fields to the +elm-planted hedge-rows and shaven lawns of placid England. The local gossip did +not reveal any cause for Mr. Rangeley's fondness for contrasts and exile.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Toothaker has been a careful dentist to the stumps of +his farm. It is beautifully stumpless, and slopes verdantly, or varied with +yellow harvest, down to the lake and up to the forest primeval. He has +preserved a pretty grove of birch and maple as shelter, ornament, partridge-cover, +and perpendicular wood-pile. Below his house and barns is the lovely oval of +the lake, seen across the fair fields, bright with wheat, or green with +pasture. A road, hedged with briskly-aspiring young spruces, runs for a mile +northward, making a faint show at attacking the wilderness. A mile's loneliness +is enough for this unsupported pioneer; he runs up a tree, sees nothing but +dark woods, thinks of Labrador and the North Pole, and stops.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Next morning, Mr. Toothaker returned from a political +meeting below among the towns. It was the Presidential campaign,—stirring +days from pines to prairies, stirring days from codfish to cocoanuts. Tonguey +men were talking from every stump all over the land. Blatant patriots were +heard, wherever a flock of compatriots could be persuaded to listen. The man +with one speech containing two stories was making the tour of all the villages. +The man with two speeches, each with three stories, one of them very broad +indeed, was in request for the towns. The oratorical Stentorian man, with +inexhaustible rivers of speech and rafts of stories, was in full torrent at +mass-meetings. There was no neighborhood that might not see and hear an M. C. +But Rangeley had been the <i>minus</i> town, and by all the speech-makers +really neglected; there was danger that its voters must deposit their ballots +according to their own judgment, without any advice from strangers. This, of +course, would never do. Mr. Toothaker found that we fraternized in politics. He +called upon us, as patriots, to become the orators of the day. Why not? Except +that these seldom houses do not promise an exhilarating crowd. We promised, +however, that, if he would supply hearers, we between us would find a speaker.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Toothaker called a nephew, and charged him to boot and +saddle, and flame it through the country-side that two "Men from New York" +were there, and would give a "Lecture on Politics," at the Red School-House, +at five, that evening.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And to the Red School-House, at five, crowded the men, ay, +and the women and children, of Rangeley and thereabout. They came as the winds +and waves come when forests and navies are rended and stranded. Horse, foot, +and charioteers, they thronged toward the rubicund fountain of education. From +houses that lurked invisible in clearings suddenly burst forth a population, an +audience ardent with patriotism, eager for politics even from a Cockney +interpreter, and numerous enough to stir electricity in a speaker's mind. Some +of the matrons brought bundles of swaddled infants, to be early instructed in +good citizenship; but too often these young patriots were found to have but +crude notions on the subject of applause, and they were ignominiously removed, +fighting violently for their privilege of free speech, doubling their unterrified +fists, and getting as red in the face as the school-house.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Toothaker, in a neat speech, introduced the orator, who +took his stand in the schoolmaster's pulpit, and surveyed his stalwart and +gentle hearers, filling the sloping benches and overflowing out-of-doors. +Gaffer and gammer, man and maiden, were distributed, the ladies to the right of +the aisle, the gentlemen to the left. They must not be in contact,—perhaps +because gaffer will gossip with gammer, and youth and maid will toy. Dignity +demanded that they should be distinct as the conservative Right and radical +Left of a French Assembly, Convenient, this, for the orator; since thus his +things of beauty, joys forever, he could waft, in dulcet tones, over to the +ladies' side, and his things of logic, tough morsels for life-long digestion, +he could jerk, like bolts from an arbalist, over at the open mouths of gray +gaffer and robust man.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I am not about to report the orator's speech. Stealing +another's thunder is an offence punishable condignly ever since the days of Salmoneus. +Perhaps, too, he may wish to use the same eloquent bits in the present +Olympiad; for American life is measured by Olympiads, signalized by nobler +contests than the petty States of Greece ever knew.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The people of Rangeley disappeared as mysteriously as they +had emerged from the woods, having had their share of the good or bad talk of +that year of freedom. If political harangues educate, the educated class was +largely recruited that that summer.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Next day, again, was stormy. We stayed quietly under +shelter, preparing for our real journey after so much prelude. The Isaac +Newton's steam-whistle had sent up the curtain; the overture had followed with +strains <span lang=FR>Der</span>-<span lang=FR>Frei</span>-schutzy in the Adirondacks, +pastoral in the valleys of Vermont and New Hampshire, funebral and andante in +the fogs of Mollychunkamug; now it was to end in an allegretto gallopade, and +the drama would open.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>At last the sun shone bright upon the silky ripples of the +lake. Mr. Toothaker provided two buggies,—one for himself and our traps, +one for <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> and me. We rattled away across +county and county. And so at full speed we drove all day, and, with a few +hours' halt, all night,—all a fresh, starry night,—until gay +sunrise brought us to Skowhegan, on the road to Moosehead Lake.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As we had <span lang=EN-GB>travelled</span> all night, +breakfast must be our substitute for slumber. Repletion, instead of repose, +must restore us. Two files of red-shirted lumbermen, brandishing knives at each +other across a long table, only excited us to livelier gymnastics; and when we +had thus hastily crammed what they call in Maine beefsteak, and what they +infuse down East for coffee, we climbed to the top of a coach of the bounding-billow +motion, and went pitching northward.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Two facts we learned from our coachman: one, that we were +passing that day through a "pretty sassy country"; also, that the same +region was "only meant to hold the world together." Personal +"sassiness" is a trait of which every Yankee is proud; <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> and I both venture to hope that we appreciate the +value of that quality, and have properly cultivated it. Topographical +"sassiness," unmodified by culture and control, is a rude, rugged, +and unattractive trait; and New England is, on the whole, "sassier" +than I could wish. Let the dullish day's drive, then, be passed over dumbly. In +the evening, we dismounted at Greenville, at the foot of Moosehead Lake.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>CHAPTER VI.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>THE BIRCH.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The rivers of Maine, as a native observed to me, "olluz +spread 'mselves inter bulges." Mollychunkamug and her fellows are the +bulges of the Androscoggin; Moosehead, of the Kennebec. Sluggish streams do not +need such pauses. Peace is thrown away upon stolidity. The torrents of Maine +are hasty young heroes, galloping so hard when they gallop, and charging with +such rash enthusiasm when they charge, hurrying with such Achillean ardor +toward their eternity of ocean, that they would never know the influence, in +their heart of hearts, of blue cloudlessness, or the glory of noonday, or the +pageantries of sunset,—they would only tear and rive and shatter +carelessly. Nature, therefore, provides valleys for the streams to bulge in, +and entertain celestial reflections.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Nature, arranging lake-spots as educational episodes for the + Maine rivers, disposes them also with a view to utility. Mr. Killgrove and +his fellow-lumbermen treat lakes as log-puddles and raft-depots. Moosehead is +the most important of these, and keeps a steamboat for tugging rafts and +transporting raftsmen.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Moosehead also provides vessels far dearer to the heart of +the adventurous than anything driven by steam. Here, mayhap, will an untravelled +<span lang=EN-GB>traveller</span> make his first acquaintance with the birch-bark +canoe, and learn to call it by the affectionate diminutive, "Birch." +Earlier in life there was no love lost between him and whatever bore that name. +Even now, if the untravelled one's first acquaintance be not distinguished by +an unlovely ducking, so much the worse. The ducking must come. Caution must be +learnt by catastrophe. No one can ever know how unstable a thing is a birch +canoe, unless he has felt it slide away from under his misplaced feet. Novices +should take nude practice in empty birches, lest they spill themselves and the +load of full ones,—a wondrous easy thing to do.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A birch canoe is the right thing in the right place. Maine's +rivers are violently impulsive and spasmodic in their running. Sometimes you +have a foamy rapid, sometimes a broad shoal, sometimes a barricade of boulders +with gleams of white water springing through or leaping over its rocks. Your +boat for voyaging here must be stout enough to buffet the rapid, light enough +to skim the shallow, agile enough to vault over, or lithe enough to slip +through, the barricade. Besides, sometimes the barricade becomes a compact +wall,—a baffler, unless boat and boatmen can circumvent it,—unless +the nautical carriage can itself be carried about the obstacle,—can be +picked up, shouldered, and made off with.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A birch meets all these demands. It lies, light as a leaf, +on whirlpooling surfaces. A tip of the paddle can turn it into the eddy beside +the breaker. A check of the setting-pole can hold it steadfast on the brink of +wreck. Where there is water enough to varnish the pebbles, there it will glide. +A birch thirty feet long, big enough for a trio and their traps, weighs only +seventy-five pounds. When the rapid passes into a cataract, when the wall of +rock across the stream is impregnable in front, it can be taken in the flank by +an amphibious birch. The navigator lifts his canoe out of water, and bonnets +himself with it. He wears it on head and shoulders, around the impassable spot. +Below the rough water, he gets into his elongated chapeau and floats away. +Without such vessel, agile, elastic, imponderable, and transmutable, Androscoggin, + Kennebec, and Penobscot would be no thoro'fares for human beings. Musquash +might dabble, chips might drift, logs might turn somersets along their lonely +currents; but never voyager, gentle or bold, could speed through brilliant +perils, gladdening the wilderness with shout and song.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Maine's rivers must have birch canoes; Maine's woods, of +course, therefore, provide birches. The white-birch, paper-birch, canoe-birch, +grows large in moist spots near the stream where it is needed. Seen by the +flicker of a campfire at night, they surround the intrusive <span lang=EN-GB>traveller</span> +like ghosts of giant sentinels. Once, Indian tribes with names that "nobody +can speak and nobody can spell" roamed these forests. A stouter second +growth of humanity has ousted them, save a few seedy ones who gad about the +land, and centre at Oldtown, their village near Bangor. These aborigines are +the birch-builders. They detect by the river-side the tree barked with material +for canoes. They strip it, and fashion an artistic vessel, which civilization +cannot better. Launched in the fairy lightness of this, and speeding over foamy +waters between forest-solitudes, one discovers, as if he were the first to know +it, the truest poetry of pioneer-life.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Such poetry <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> had sung to +me, until my life seemed incomplete while I did not know the sentiment by +touch, description, even from the most impassioned witness, addressed to the most +imaginative hearer, is feeble. We both wanted to be in a birch: <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>, because he knew the fresh, inspiring vivacity of +such a voyage; I, because I divined it. We both needed to be somewhere near the +heart of New England's wildest wilderness. We needed to see Katahdin,—the +distinctest mountain to be found on this side of the continent. Katahdin was +known to <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>. He had scuffled up its eastern +land-slides with a squad of lumbermen. He had birched it down to Lake Chesuncook +in by-gone summers, to see Katahdin distant. Now, in a birch we would slide +down the Penobscot, along its line of lakes, camp at Katahdin, climb it, and +speed down the river to tide-water.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>That was the great object of all our voyage with its +educating preludes,—Katahdin and a breathless dash down the Penobscot. +And while we flashed along the gleam of the river, <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> +fancied he might see the visible, and hear the musical, and be stirred by the +beautiful. These, truly, are not far from the daily life of any seer, listener, +and perceiver; but there, perhaps, up in the strong wilderness, we might be +recreated to a more sensitive vitality. The Antaean treatment is needful for +terrestrials, unless they would dwindle. The diviner the power in any artist-soul, +the more distinctly is he commanded to get near the divine without him. Fancies +pale, that are not fed on facts. It is very easy for any man to be a plagiarist +from himself, and present his own reminiscences half disguised, instead of new +discoveries. Now, up by Katahdin, there were new discoveries to be made; and +that mountain would sternly eye us, to know whether <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span> +were a copyist, or I a Cockney.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katahdin was always in its place up in the woods. The +Penobscot was always buzzing along toward the calm reaches, where it takes the +shadow of the mountain. All we needed was the birch.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The birch thrust itself under our noses as we drove into Greenville. +It was mounted upon a coach that preceded us, and wabbled oddly along, like a +vast hat upon a dwarf. We talked with its owner, as he dismounted it. He proved +our very man. He and his amphibious canoe had just made the trip we proposed, +with a flotilla. Certain Bostonians had essayed it,—vague Northmen, +preceding our Columbus voyage.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Enter now upon the scene a new and important character, Cancut +the canoe-man. Mr. Cancut, owner and steerer of a birch, who now became our +"guide, philosopher, and friend," is as American as a birch, as the +Penobscot, or as <span lang=FR>Katahdin's</span> self. Cancut was a jolly +fatling,—almost too fat, if he will pardon me, for sitting in the stern +of the imponderable canoe. Cancut, though for this summer boatman or <span +lang=FR>bircher</span>, had other strings to his bow. He was taking variety +now, after employment more monotonous. Last summer, his services had been in +request throughout inhabited Maine, to "peddle gravestones and collect +bills." The Gravestone-Peddler is an institution of New England. His wares +are wanted, or will be wanted, by every one. Without discriminating the +bereaved households, he presents himself at any door, with attractive drawings +of his wares, and seduces people into paying the late tribute to their great-grandfather, +or laying up a monument for themselves against the inevitable day of demand. +His customers select from his samples a tasteful "set of stones"; and +next summer he drives up and unloads the marble, with the names well spelt, and +the cherub's head artistically <span lang=EN-GB>chiselled</span> by the best +workmen of Boston. Cancut told us, as an instance of judicious economy, how, +when he called once upon a recent widow to ask what he could do in his line for +her deceased husband's tomb, she chose from his patterns neat head- and foot-stones +for the dear defunct, and then bargained with him to throw in a small pair for +her boy Johnny,—a poor, sick crittur, that would be wanting his monument +long before next summer.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This lugubrious business had failed to infect Mr. Cancut +with corresponding deportment. Undertakers are always <span lang=EN-GB>sombre</span> +in dreary mockery of woe. Sextons are solemncholy, if not solemn. I fear Cancut +was too cheerful for his trade, and therefore had abandoned it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Such was our guide, the captain, steersman, and <span +lang=FR>ballaster</span> of our vessel. We struck our bargain with him at once, +and at once proceeded to make preparations. Chiefly we prepared by stripping +ourselves bare of everything except "must-haves." A birch, besides +three men, will carry only the simplest baggage of a trio. Passengers who are +constantly to make portages will not encumber themselves with what-nots. Man +must have clothes for day and night, and must have provisions to keep his +clothes properly filled out. These two articles we took in compact form, +regretting even the necessity of guarding against a ducking by a change of +clothes. Our provision, that unrefined pork and hard tack, presently to be +converted into artist and friend, was packed with a few delicacies in a firkin,—a +commodious case, as we found.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A little steamer plies upon the lake, doing lumber-jobs, and +not disdaining the <span lang=EN-GB>traveller's</span> dollars. Upon this, one +August morning, we embarked ourselves and our frail birch, for our voyage to +the upper end of Moosehead. <span lang=ES-TRAD>Iglesias</span>, in a red shirt, +became a bit of color in the scene. I, in a red shirt, repeated the flame. Cancut, +outweighing us both together, in a broader red shirt, outglared us both. When +we three met, and our scarlet reflections commingled, there was one spot in the +world gorgeous as a conclave of cardinals, as a squad of British grenadiers, as +a Vermont maple-wood in autumn.</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section4> + +<p class=Chapter>RIFLE-CLUBS.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A sense of the importance of rifle-practice is becoming very +generally prevalent. Rifle-clubs are organizing in our country-towns, and +target-practice by individuals is increasing to a degree which proves +incontestably the interest which is felt in the subject. The chief obstacle to +the immediate and extensive practical operation of this interest lies in the +difficulty of procuring serviceable guns, except at such a cost as places them +beyond the reach of the majority of those who would be glad to make themselves +familiar with their use. Except in occasional instances, it is impossible to +procure a trustworthy rifle for a less price than forty or fifty dollars. We +believe, however, that the competition which has already become very active +between rival manufacturers will erelong effect a material reduction of price; +and we trust also that our legislators will perceive the necessity of adopting +a strict military organization of all the able-bodied men in the State, and +providing them with weapons, with whose use they should be encouraged to make +themselves familiar—apart from military drill and instruction—by +the institution of public shooting-matches for prizes. The absolute necessity +of stringent laws, in order to secure the attainment of anything worthy the +name of military education and discipline, has been clearly proved by the +experience of the drill-clubs which sprang into existence in such numbers last +year. To say, that, as a general rule, the moral strength of the community is +not sufficient to enable a volunteer association to sustain for any great +length of time the severe and irksome details which are inseparable from the +attainment of thorough military discipline, is no more a reflection upon the +class to which the remark is applied than would be the equally true assertion +that their physical strength is not equal to the performance of the work of an +ordinary day-laborer. Under the pressure of necessity, both moral and physical +strength might be forced and kept up to the required standard; but the mere +conviction of expediency is not enough to secure its development, unless +enforced by such laws as will insure universal and systematic action. A +voluntary association for military instruction may be commenced with a zeal +which will carry its members for a time through the daily routine of drilling; +but it will not be long before the ranks will begin to diminish, and the +observance of discipline become less strict; and if the officers attempt to +enforce the laws by which all have agreed to abide, those laws will speedily be +rescinded by the majority who find them galling, and the tie by which they are +bound together will prove a rope of sand.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>With the return of the troops who are now acquiring military +knowledge in the best of all possible schools, we shall possess the necessary +material for executing whatever system may be decided upon as best for the +military education of the people; but meantime we may lay the foundation for +it, and take the most efficient means of securing legislative action, by the +immediate organization of rifle-clubs for target-practice throughout the State. +These clubs may be commenced very informally by a simple agreement among those +who are interested and are provided, or will provide themselves, with weapons, +to meet together at stated intervals for target-practice, which should be conducted +according to the rules which have been found most effectual for securing good +marksmanship. The mere interest of competition will be sufficient to insure +private practice in the intervals; and if properly and respectably conducted, +the interest will increase till it becomes general, and the target-ground will +become a central object of attraction.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We earnestly invite the attention not only of all who are +impressed with the necessity of inculcating a thorough practical knowledge of +the use of weapons, as a measure of national interest, but of all who are +interested in the subject of physical, and we may add, moral education, to the +field which is here opened, and which, if not improved, as it may be, for noble +and useful ends, will certainly be perverted for low and immoral purposes.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The interest which is beginning to be awakened in rifle-practice +is the germ of a great movement, which it is the duty of all who have the +national welfare at heart to use their influence in guiding and directing, as +may easily be done, so that only good may result from it. Let it be +countenanced and encouraged by the men, in every community, whose words and +example give tone to public opinion, and it will become, as it ought, a means +of health-giving and generous rivalry, while it infuses a sense of national +power, which we, of all people on earth, ought to derive from the consciousness +that it is based upon the physical ability of the people to maintain their own +rights. If, however, it is frowned upon and sneered at, as unworthy the +attention of a morally and intellectually cultivated people, we shall draw upon +ourselves the curse of creating a sin,—of poisoning at its source a +fountain whose elements in themselves are not only innocent, but abounding in +the best ingredients for the development of manly physical and intellectual +character.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We trust, however, that such a caution is unnecessary. If +there are any among us who, after the past year's experience, can look with +doubt or coldness upon such a movement as we have indicated, we should hardly +care to waste words in arguing the point. That such a feeling should have +heretofore existed is not, perhaps, surprising. The possibility of such an +emergency as has come upon us has seemed so improbable, not to say impossible, +that it has appeared like a waste of time and labor to prepare for it; and the +result has been, that we had come to look upon military education with much the +same feeling as that with which we regard the pugilistic art, as of +questionable, if not decidedly disreputable character, and such as a nation of +our respectability could by no possibility have occasion for.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>From this dream of security we have been unexpectedly and +very disagreeably awakened, by finding ourselves engaged in a war whose +magnitude we were at first slow to appreciate; and it was not till we found +ourselves ominously threatened by a foreign power, while still engaged in a +fearful struggle at home, that we seemed to be fully aroused to the necessity +of being at all times prepared for <span lang=EN-GB>defence</span>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Then there came over us a universal consciousness of +undeveloped strength,—the feeling of a powerful man, who knows nothing of +"the noble art of self-<span lang=EN-GB>defence</span>," at finding +himself suddenly confronted by a professional boxer, who demands, with an +ominous squaring of the shoulders, what he meant by treading on his toes,—to +which he, poor man, instead of replying that it was so obviously unintentional +that no gentleman would think of demanding an apology, is fain, in order to +escape the impending blow, to answer by assuring the bully in the most soothing +terms that no insult was intended, that he never will do so again, and hopes +that the occasion may serve as a precedent for Mr. Bully himself to avoid the +corns of his neighbors for the future.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is comparatively but few years since the success of +Colonel Colt in the application of the repeating principle to fire-arms was +regarded as a feat in which every American felt a national pride. It was such a +vast improvement upon anything which had previously existed, and the importance +of it was so obvious, that it became as much a matter of necessity to the whole +civilized world as iron-clad steamers have become since the demonstration of +their power which was given by the performances of the Merrimack and the +Monitor. And, indeed, the best evidence of the universal acknowledgment of this +fact is afforded by the innumerable imitations and attempts at improvement +which have since made their appearance at home and abroad.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We have used Colt's 51-inch rifle, and also his rifled +carbine, very freely, and tested them thoroughly for range, precision, +penetration, and capacity for continued service, and for our own use in hunting +are entirely satisfied with the performance of this rifle, and should be at a +loss to imagine any possible demand of a hunter's weapon which it would fail to +meet.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>An able and interesting article on "Rifled Guns" +in the "Atlantic Monthly" for October, 1859, has the following +passage: "No breech-loading gun is so trustworthy in its execution as a +muzzle-loader; for, in spite of all precautions, the bullets will go out +irregularly. We have cut out too many balls of Sharpe's rifle from the target, +which had entered sidewise, not to be certain on this point; and we know of no +other breech-loader so little likely to err in this respect."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We cannot speak of Sharpe's rifle from our own experience, +but from one of the best riflemen of our acquaintance we have heard the same +report,—that the cones will occasionally turn and strike sidewise. We do +not believe, however, that this fault is a necessary consequence of the +peculiar method of loading; but, whatever may be the cause, with Colt's rifle +the evil does not exist. For the past year we have <span lang=EN-GB>practised</span> +with it at ranges of from fifty to six hundred yards, and have fired something +like two thousand rounds; and only three balls have struck the target sidewise, +two of which were ricochets, and the third struck a limb of a bush a few feet +in front of the target. In no other instance has the shot failed to cut a +perfectly true round hole, and these exceptions would of course be equally +applicable to any gun. With the latest pattern of Colt's rifle we have never +known an instance of a premature discharge of either of the chambers; though, +from the repeated inquiries which have been made, it is obvious that such is +the general apprehension. In reply to the common assertion, that much of the +explosive force must be lost by escape of gas between the chamber and the +barrel, we simply state the fact that we have repeatedly shot through nine +inches of solid white cedar timber at forty yards. Finally, at two hundred +yards, we find no difficulty in making an average of five inches from the +centre, in ten successive shots, of which eight inches is the extreme +variation. This is good enough for any ordinary purposes of hunting or military +service,—for anything, in short, but gambling or fancy work; and for our +own use, against either man or beast, we should ask no better weapon. But we +should be very far from advocating its general adoption in military service; +and, indeed, our own experience with it has brought the conviction that the +repeating principle in any form is decidedly objectionable in guns for the use +of ordinary troops of the line. We do not extend the objection to pistols in +their proper place, but speak now solely of rifles in the hands of infantry.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In action, the time of each soldier must of necessity be +divided between the processes of loading and firing; and it is better that +these should come in regular alternate succession than that a series of rapid +shots should be succeeded by the longer interval required for inserting a +number of charges. It would be hard to assign definitely the most important +reasons for this conviction, which are based upon, elements that prevail so +generally in the moral and physical characters of men, and which we have so +often seen developed in the excitement of hunting large game, that we can +readily appreciate the motives which have made sagacious military men very shy +of trusting miscellaneous bodies of soldiers with a weapon whose possible +advantages are more than counterbalanced by the probable mischief that must +ensue from the want of such instinctive power of manipulation as could result +only from constant and long-continued familiarity, and which even then might be +paralyzed in very many instances by nervous excitement.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We would not, however, be understood as condemning breech-loading +guns for military service. On the contrary, we are firm in the conviction that +they are destined to supersede entirely every species of muzzle-loaders, which +will thenceforward be regarded only as curious evidences of the difficulty of +making an advance of a single step, which, when taken, seems so simple that it +appears incredible that it was not thought of before. The ingenuity of +thousands of our most skilful men is now turned in this direction, and +stimulated by a demand which will obviously insure a fortune to the successful +competitor. The advantages of a breech-loading gun consist in the greater +rapidity with which it can be loaded and fired, and the avoidance of the +exposure incident to the motions of drawing the ramrod and ramming the +cartridge. We are well aware that rapid firing is in itself an evil, and that a +common complaint with officers is that the men will not take time enough in +aiming to insure efficiency; but granting this, it by no means follows that the +evil will be increased by the ability to load rapidly. Its remedy lies in +thorough discipline and practical knowledge of the use of the gun; and the +soldier will be more likely to take time for aiming, if he knows he can be +ready to repeat his shot almost instantly.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The contingencies of actual service demand the use of +different kinds of guns to suit the different circumstances which may arise. In +rifle-pits, against batteries, or for picking off artillerymen through the +embrasures of a fort, the telescope-rifle has established its reputation beyond +all question during the war in which we are now engaged. In repeated instances +the enemy's batteries have been effectually kept silent by the aid of this +weapon, till counter-works could be established, which could by no possibility +have been constructed but for such assistance. During the siege of Yorktown, +especially, the fact is historical that the Confederates acquired such a dread +of these weapons that they forced their negroes to the work of serving the +guns, which they did not dare attempt themselves, and our men were reluctantly +compelled, in self-<span lang=EN-GB>defence</span>, to pick off the poor +fellows who were unwillingly opposed to them. In more than one instance after +an engagement, members of the "Andrew Sharp-shooters" have indicated +precisely the spot where their victims would be found, and the exact position +of the bullet-holes which had caused their death; for with the telescope-rifle +the question is not, whether an enemy shall be hit, but what particular feature +of his face, or which button of his coat shall be the target. That this is no +exaggeration may be easily proved by the indisputable evidence of hundreds of +targets, every shot in which may be covered by the palm of the hand, though +fired from a distance at which no unassisted eye could possibly discern the +object aimed at.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But the telescope-rifle is utterly useless, except for +special service. The great body of infantry comprised in an army must be +provided with guns whose general appearance and character admit of no essential +variation from the standard which experience has proved to be the best for the +wants of the service.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We have given our objections to the whole class of repeating +guns in what we have said of Colt's rifles; and we proceed to note the defects +of other breech-loading guns, some of which would constitute no ground of +objection to the sportsman, but are inadmissible in the soldier's gun. It is, +of course, essential that any breech-loading gun which is offered for +introduction in the army should be at least equal in range, penetration, and +precision, to the best muzzle-loader now in use. It must be so simple in its +construction and mode of operation that its manipulation may readily become an +instinctive action, requiring no exercise of thought or judgment to guard +against errors which might effect a derangement,—for a large portion of +any miscellaneous body of men would be found incapable of exercising such +judgment in the excitement of action. The limbs and joints comprised in the +arrangement for introducing the charge at the breech must not only be so simple +as to avoid the danger of making mistakes in their use, but of such strength as +will bear the rough usage incident to field-service. They must, of course, make +a perfectly tight joint, and there must be no possibility of their becoming +clogged by fouling, so as to affect the facility with which they are worked. +And finally, it is vitally important that no special ammunition be required, a +failure in the supply of which may render the weapon useless.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As this last objection would rule out the whole class of +guns requiring metallic cartridges, and as there are undeniable advantages connected +with their use, we deem it necessary to give our reasons for this decision +somewhat at length. The cartridges are made of copper and filled with powder, +and the ball being inserted in the end, they are compressed about its base so +as to render them perfectly water-tight. The fulminating powder, being in the +base of the cartridge, is exploded by the blow of the hammer, which falls +directly upon it. The advantages are, that there is no escape of gas, and no +liability of injury from water; and experience has abundantly proved the +excellence of the system in the essential qualities of precision and force. The +most obvious objection to them is the one above alluded to. The cartridges +must, of necessity, be made by special machinery, and can be supplied only from +the manufactory. To this it is replied, that the same objection may be urged +against the use of percussion-caps. We grant it; and if it were possible to +dispense with them, it would be an obvious gain. But because we must have caps, +in spite of their disadvantages, it does not follow that we should increase +unnecessarily the equipments against which the same objection exists in a much +greater degree, owing to the more intricate process of manufacture and the very +much greater difficulty of transportation. The additional weight for the +soldier to carry, also, is no trifle, and will not be overlooked by those who +appreciate the importance of every ounce that is saved. But apart from minor +objections, a fatal one lies in the fact that every cartridge-box filled with +this ammunition may be considered as a shell liable to explode by concussion +and spread destruction around it. The powder and fulminating composition being +always in contact in every cartridge, it is obvious that a chance shot may +explode the whole boxful; and we have proved by experiment that this is not an +imaginary danger.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Since the appearance of our previous article on "The +Use of the Rifle," our attention has been called to several new inventions +for breech-loading, some of them exceedingly ingenious and curious, but only +one of which has at once commended itself as being so obviously and distinctly +an improvement as to induce a further test of its powers, and has proved on +trial so entirely efficient, and free from the faults which seemed to be +inseparable from the system, as to lead to the belief, which we confidently +express, that its general adoption as a military weapon must be a necessary +consequence of its becoming known.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As a full description and report of the trial of this gun +has been officially prepared by a commission appointed for the purpose, and +will probably be published, we shall only say of it here that its performance +is equal in all respects to that of the best muzzle-loader, and, while +possessing all the advantages, it is entirely free from any of the objections +which pertain in one form or another to every breech-loading gun we have +heretofore had an opportunity to inspect. In appearance it is so nearly like +the ordinary soldier's musket that the difference can be perceived only on +examination; and, indeed, it may be used as a muzzle-loader either with a +cartridge or with loose powder and ball. It is so simple in its mode of +operation that there is less danger of error than with a muzzle-loader; yet the +anatomical construction of the limbs and joints secures a degree of strength +equal to that of a solid mass of iron. The force of the explosion causes so +perfect a closing of the joint as to prevent any possible escape of gas, yet +the breech may be removed by as simple a process as that of cocking the gun; +and we have in the course of experiment fired the gun three hundred times, and +have since seen it fired five hundred times, without once wiping or cleaning, +and the working of the joints was as easy and the shooting as good at the last +as at first.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is a singular fact in the history of arms, that the +successive improvements in their construction have occurred at long intervals, +and have made but slow progress towards general adoption even when their +advantages were apparent. It was more than a century after muskets were first +used in war before they were introduced in the English army to the exclusion of +bows and arrows; more than fifty years passed after the invention of flint-locks +before they were substituted for match-locks; and many years elapsed after the +invention of the percussion-lock before it came into general use.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is probable that the introduction of breech-loading guns +will be proportionally slow. A distinguished English military writer says: +"With respect to the choice between muzzle-loaders and breech-loaders, I +am quite satisfied that the latter will eventually carry the day. The best +principles of construction may not yet have been discovered; but I have no more +doubt of their advantage over the muzzle-loaders than I have of the superiority +of the percussion—over flint-lock guns."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We coincide entirely in this opinion, and we have a very +strong feeling of confidence that the gun we have alluded to is destined to +achieve the consummation here predicted.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>For clubs which propose to combine a military drill with +target-practice, it is of course essential that the guns should be of uniform +pattern. But in our country-towns, until some definite system of military +organization is established by law, it is not likely that volunteer +associations will be formed for anything more than the object of perfecting +themselves in marksmanship. Great numbers of able-bodied men may be found in +every community, who will be very ready to join associations to meet at stated +intervals for simple target-practice, but who could not afford the time which +would necessarily be required for the attainment of anything like efficient +discipline as soldiers. For such associations it is not only unimportant that +the arms should be of uniform pattern, but a diversity is even desirable, as +affording the means of testing their comparative merits, and thus giving the +members the opportunity of learning from actual observation the governing +principles of the science of projectiles.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is essential, however, to the attainment of any proper +degree of skill in the use of the rifle that it should be acquired +systematically. Experience has proved to the instructors at the <span +lang=EN-GB>Hythe</span> School, that, "the less practice the pupil has +previously had with the rifle, the better shot he is likely in a limited period +to become; for, in shooting, bad habits of any kind are difficult to eradicate, +and such is the <span lang=EN-GB>Hythe</span> system that it does not admit of +being grafted upon any other. Those who have been zealously engaged in maturing +it have left nothing to chance; they have ascertained by innumerable trials the +best way in which every minute portion of the task to be executed should be +performed, and no deviation, however slight, should be attempted from the +directions laid down. By rigid adherence to them, far more than average +proficiency in shooting is attainable without the expenditure of a single ball-cartridge. +Paradoxical as this may seem, it is nevertheless strictly true. It is only, +however, to be accomplished by a course of aiming and position drill."<a +href="#_edn2" name="_ednref2" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[2]</span></span></span></a></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We have seen too many instances of poor shooting by men who +passed for good riflemen, owing to ignorance of principles whose observance +would alone enable them to adapt their practice to varying circumstances, to +have any doubt of the important truth contained in the above extract; and we +would urge its careful consideration and a compliance with its suggestions upon +every association of riflemen.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>With all the instruction which can be got from books and +teachers, however, it is only by constant practice that one can attain the +degree of skill which inspires entire confidence in his capacity to develop the +best powers of the rifle. It seems a very simple thing to bring the line of +sight upon the target, and to pull the trigger at the right moment; but, in +reality, it is what no man can do without continued practice, and he who has +attained the power will confirm the assertion that the art of doing it is +indescribable, and must be acquired by every man for himself.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>For the sake of first becoming familiar with the powers of +the weapon, we advise beginners to <span lang=EN-GB>practise</span> for a time +with a rest. This should be a bag of sand, or some equally inelastic substance, +on which the gun can repose firmly and steadily; and a little practice with +such aid will enable the shooter to realize the relation of the line of sight +to the trajectory under varying circumstances of wind and light, and thus to +proceed knowingly in his subsequent training. But we are unwilling to give this +advice without accompanying it with the caution not to continue the practice +till it becomes habitual. It is very difficult for one who is accustomed to use +a rest to feel the confidence which is essential to success, when shooting from +the shoulder; and no one is deserving the name of a rifleman who requires such +aid.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is difficult for an inexperienced person to conceive of +the effect of even a light wind upon so small an object as a rifle-ball, when +shot from the gun. The difficulty arises from the impossibility of taking in +the idea of such rapid flight, or of the resistance produced by it, by +comparison with anything within the limits of our experience. We may attain a +conception of it, however, by trying to move a stick through the water. Moving +it slowly, the resistance is imperceptible; but as we increase the velocity, we +find the difficulty to increase very rapidly, and if we try to strike a quick +blow through the water, we find the resistance so enormous that the effort is +almost paralyzed. Mathematically, the resistance increases in the ratio of the +square of the velocity; and although the air is of course more easily displaced +than water, the same rule applies to it, and the flight of a ball is so +inconceivably rapid that the resistance becomes enormous. The average initial +velocity of a cannon- or rifle-ball is sixteen hundred feet in a second, and a +twelve-pound round shot, moving at this rate, encounters an atmospheric +resistance of nearly two hundred pounds, or more than sixteen times its own +weight. Perhaps a clearer idea may be attained by the statement of the fact, +that, were it possible to remove this resistance, or, in other words, to fire a +ball in a vacuum, it would fly ten miles in a second,—the same time it +now requires to move sixteen hundred feet. Bearing in mind this enormous +resistance, it will be more readily apparent that even a slight motion of the +element through which the ball is struggling must influence its course. For +this reason it is that the best time to shoot, as a general rule, is in the +morning or evening, when the air is most apt to be perfectly calm. It will +often be found, after making very satisfactory shots at sunrise, that by ten +o'clock, even on what would be called a calm day, it is impossible to attain to +anything like the accuracy with which the day's work was begun; and, owing to +the irregular motion of the air, the difficulty cannot be overcome, except to a +limited degree, by making allowance for it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is well, however, to <span lang=EN-GB>practise</span> in +all possible conditions of weather, and not to be discouraged at finding +unaccountable variations at different times in the flight of balls. A few +weeks' experience will at least enable the learner to judge of the veracity of +a class of stories one often hears, of the feats of backwoodsmen. It is not +long since we were gravely assured by a quondam <span lang=EN-GB>travelling</span> +acquaintance, who no doubt believed it himself, that there were plenty of men +in the South who could shave off either ear of a squirrel with a rifle-ball at +one hundred yards, without doing him further injury. A short experience of +target-shooting will suffice to demonstrate the absurdity of all the wonderful +stories of this class which are told and often insisted on with all the bigotry +of ignorance. A somewhat extended acquaintance with backwoodsmen has served +only to convince us, that, while a practical familiarity with the rifle is more +general with them than with us, a scientific knowledge of its principles is +rare; and the best target-shooting we have ever seen was in New England.</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section5> + +<p class=Chapter>TWO SUMMERS.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Last summer, when athwart the sky</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Shone the immeasurable days,</p> + +<p class=Poem>We wandered slowly, you and I,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Adown these leafy forest-ways,</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>With laugh and song and sportive speech,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>And mirthful tales of earlier years,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Though deep within the soul of each</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Lay thoughts too sorrowful for tears,</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Because—I marked it many a time—</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Your feet grew slower day by day,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And where I did not fear to climb</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>You paused to find an easier way.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And all the while a boding fear</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Pressed hard and heavy on my heart;</p> + +<p class=Poem>Yet still with words of hope and cheer</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>I bade the gathering grief depart,</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Saying,—"When next these purple bells</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>And these red columbines return,—</p> + +<p class=Poem>When woods are full of <span lang=EN-GB>piny</span> smells,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>And this faint fragrance of the fern,—</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"When the wild white-weed's bright surprise</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Looks up from all the strawberried plain,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Like thousands of astonished eyes,—</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Dear child, you will be well again!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Again the <span lang=EN-GB>marvellous</span> days are +here;</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Warm on my cheek the sunshine burns,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And fledged birds chirp, and far and near</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Floats the strange sweetness of the ferns.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>But down these ways I walk alone,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Tearless, companionless, and dumb,—</p> + +<p class=Poem>Or rest upon this way-side stone,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>To wait for one who does not come.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Yet all is even as I foretold:</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>The summer shines on wave and wild,</p> + +<p class=Poem>The fern is fragrant as of old,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>And you are well again, dear child!</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section6> + +<p class=Chapter>MR. AXTELL.</p> + +<p class=ChapterDescription>PART II.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katie (the doctor's name for her) said consolingly, as we +went up-stairs,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am going to sleep in Miss <span lang=FR>Lettie's</span> +little dressing-room; the door is close beside her bed. If you want me, you can +speak,—I shall be sure to hear"; and she lighted my footsteps to the +door.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I went in hastily, for Katie was gone. The statuesque lady +became informed with life; she started violently, and said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I beg pardon for the noise," I said; "how +are you?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Thank you, a pain up here, Kate"; and she put her +hand, so long giving support to her chin, upon the top of her head.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It isn't Kate"; and I came into full view.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She looked up at me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why, you are—yes, I know—Miss +Percival," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you been here long?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Only since yesterday."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Why did she seem relieved at my reply?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Do they think me ill enough to have a stranger come to +me?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Almost as polite as the grum brother," I thought; +but I said, "You mustn't let me be a stranger to you. I came,—I +wasn't sent for."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She made an effort to rise from her seat, but, unable, +turned her eyes toward the windows.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is it?" I asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I thought I'd like to know what the weather looks +like."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Then let me lift the curtains"; and I drew aside +the folds, but there was nothing to be seen. The moon was not yet up; and even +had it been, there was slight chance for seeing it, as the sun had stayed +behind clouds all the day.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Put them down, please; there's no light out +there."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The doctor left some medicine for you; will you take +it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, I thank you. I hate medicines."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"So do I."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Then pray tell me what you wish me to take it +for."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You mistake; it was the doctor's order, not +mine."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The very idea of asking that image of calm decision +there to do anything!—but then I must, I am nurse"; so I ventured, +"Had you not better go to bed?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"After a little. Would you bathe my head? this pain +distresses me, and I don't want to dream, I'd rather stay awake."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As I stood beside her, gently applying the cooling remedy, +trying to stroke away the pain, she asked,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Did they tell you that my mother is dead?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She was my mother. Oh, why didn't I tell her? Why? +why?" and great spasms of torturesome pain drew her beautiful face. I +didn't tell you how beautiful she is. Well, it doesn't matter; you couldn't +understand, if I should try.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She turned suddenly, caught my dress in her hands, and +asked,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you a mother, Miss Percival?" and before I +could answer my sad "No," she said, "Forgive me. I forgot for +one moment"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>My mother had been twenty years dead. What did she know +about it? I, three years old when she died, but just remembered her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katie came in, bringing "thoughts of me" condensed +into aromatic draughts of coffee, which she put upon the hearth, "to keep +warm," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I asked her to bring some "sweet" to mix the +powder in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I hate disguises," said Miss Axtell; "I'd +rather have true bitters than cover them just a little with sugars. Give it me, +if I must take it."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"But you can't,—not <i>this</i> powder."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A glass of water, Kate, please"; and she actually +took the bitter dose of Dover in all its undisguised severity.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There! isn't that a thousand times better than +covering it all up in a sweetness that one knows isn't true?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She looked a little as if expecting an answer. I would have +preferred not saying my thought, and was waiting, when she asked,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Don't you think on the subject?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes; I think that I like the bitter better when it is +concealed."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You wouldn't, if you knew, if you had tried it, +child."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Oh, I have taken a Dover's-powder often, and I always +bury it in sirup."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She looked a little startled, odd look at me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Do you think I'm talking about that simple powder that +I've been taking?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Weren't you?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Come here, innocent little thing!" she said, and +motioned me to a footstool at her feet.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Her adjectives were both very unsuitable, when applied to +me; but I was nurse, and must yield to the whim of my patient.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Kate, look after Mr. Axtell."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Poor Kate went out, more from the habit of obedience than +apparently to obey any such behest; but she went, nevertheless.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I know who you are; I knew your mother," she +said. "Never attempt to cover up bitterness; it has its use in the +world."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Will you go to bed now? It's very late," I +ventured.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She went on as though I had not spoken at all,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There's somebody dead down-stairs, there,—now,—this +minute;—but dead,—dead,—gone beyond my reach.—Child! +child! do you know, do you feel what I mean?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How can I? I haven't seen her; I never saw her."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She's dead,—she's dead,—and I meant to—oh! +I meant to do it before she died. Why didn't something tell me? Things do come +and speak to me sometimes,—why not last night?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I got anxious. Was this what the doctor meant by incoherent +talking? Away up the village-street I heard the bell striking for midnight.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It is time you were asleep; please try and +sleep."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>My words did not stay her; she went on,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"If it only had,—then,—at the last,—she +might have forgiven;—yes,—think, it might have been,—and it <i>is</i> +not,—no, it <i>is not</i>!—and she lies dead, down-stairs, in the +very room!—But are you sure? Perhaps she isn't dead. Such things have +been."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Oh! what should I do? I thought of Katie. "The next +door," she said; there were but two in the room; it must be this one, +then. I opened it. "No, this is a closet,—dresses are hanging +there," I thought; "but there is a door leading out from it." I +looked back to the chair, where Miss Axtell still sat; she was talking to +herself, as if I had not left the room. I could not venture to open this +unknown door without a light to flow into its darkness. I went back into the +room and took up a lamp.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What are you doing?" Miss Axtell stopped to ask; +then, forgetting me, she resumed her self-questioning.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I lighted the lamp and went into the closet. I said that +there were dresses hanging there. Among them my eyes singled out one; it was +not bright,—no, it was a grave, brown, plaid dress. I tried to call Kate. +My voice would not obey me. My tongue was still. I grasped the knob and turned +it; the door opened. Poor Katie! she was asleep. She started up, bringing the +larger half of a dream with her, I'm sure. "It's not so dreadful. You have +me left, father," she said, with her young face rosy, and very sleepy. I +went close to her, put my hand upon the cover, and said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You must call Mr. Axtell, Katie."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"For what? Is Miss Axtell worse?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I think so; she will not <span lang=FR>lie</span> +down."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Do you think I might try to coax her?"—and +Katie rubbed her heavy eyelids, open too soon.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"If you think you can."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Miss Axtell had ceased to talk; she had fallen back into the +old absorbed state. Katie kneeled down beside her chair, and spoke.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Miss Lettie!" she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Miss Lettie did not answer. Katie put out one finger only. I +saw it shake a bit, as she laid it upon Miss <span lang=FR>Lettie's</span> +hand. As when the doctor touched her forehead, she came back to her proper self, +and said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is it, Kate? Isn't it time you were asleep?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Don't you know that my mother is dead?" said poor +motherless Katie.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And so is mine," said Miss Axtell.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And mine," added I.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And is it for that that you don't sleep, Kate?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, Ma'am; but it is because you won't try to sleep; +and you told us all, when my mother died, that"—and Katie stopped +there.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why don't you go on?" I asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I can't,—I don't remember the words; but you +said, Miss Lettie, that too much sorrow was wicked."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And so it is; and mine is, if it keeps you awake. I +will <span lang=FR>lie</span> down."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The little maid so kindly, gently arranged the pillows, and +made the lady comfortable, that there was little left for me to do.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When she went back to bury the dream that I so suddenly drew +out of the balmy land, I had only to shade the light, stir the fire a little, +and then wait. From afar up the street came the stroke of one. Miss Axtell's +face was turned away from me. I could only fancy that her eyes were closed. +Once she put an arm over the pillow. I touched it. It burned with fever-heat. +Then all was still. I sat upon a lounge, comfort-giving, related to the chair +in style of covering. I fancied, after a long quiet, that my patient was +asleep. I kept myself awake by examining this room that I was in. It was, like +most of the other rooms, a hexagon, with two windows looking eastward. An air +of homeness was over, and in, its every appointment. It seemed a room to sing +in; <i>were</i> songs ever heard there? I laid my head upon my hand, and listened +to one that Fancy tried to sing,—I, who never sing, in whose soul music +rolls and swells in great ocean-waves, that never in this world will break +against the shore of sound; and so I builded one, very wild and porous and +wavering, a style of iceberg shore, far out in the limitless, waters, and +listened to the echoes that came,—and, listening, must have fallen into +sleep.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I awoke with a chill feeling, as if the fire had gone down. +A draught seemed blowing upon me. I got up with a full sense of my position as +keeper of that fire, and went to it. The door into the hall was open. I glanced +at the bed; Miss Axtell was not there. The hall was dark. I caught up the lamp +and hurried out. I leaned over the balustrade and looked down the stairway. +Slowly going down I saw Miss Axtell. Was she a somnambulist? Perhaps so. I must +be cautious. I hastened after her, moving as noiselessly as she. I took the +precaution to leave the lamp in the upper hall. She was leaning against the +wall-side of the staircase. Just as she reached the lower step, I put my arm +around her. There was no need; she was fully awake.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Will you go back to sleep?" she asked of me, +before I could find time to make the same request of her.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No,—I came here for you. Where are you +going?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"In there"; and she pointed to the room where I +had seen the doctor and Katie go,—where she who was dead lay.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Oh, come back! please do! that is no place for +you"; and I endeavored to turn her steps.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It is well that you say it. She's in there; perhaps +she isn't dead. Such things have been. It was sudden, you know. Let me +go."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I held her with all the strength I had.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Leave me to myself. I'm going to tell her,—to +tell her <i>now</i>. She'll hear me better than to-morrow; they'll have a +fathom of earth over her heart then: that will be deeper than all that love of +Abraham which covered up her heart from me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What could I do? Despite my holding arms, she was gaining +toward that fatal door, and the light was very dim. I called Katie three times, +Miss Axtell still getting near to that I dreaded.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I heard a door open. I looked back, and saw Mr. Axtell +coming from the library. He came quickly along the hall, arrested his sister's +progress, and said gently, as twice he had spoken before,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lettie, where are you going?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"In there, Abraham."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, Lettie, you are sick; you must go back up-stairs."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will, when I have told her what I wish."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Whom?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Mother."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What could Mr. Axtell have meant? He asked me to bring down +the lamp; he took it in his own hand, and, supporting his sister, moved on. Was +he going to take her in there. He did. I fled back to the library; trembling in +affright, I sank into the first chair, and, covering my face with my hands, +thought,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What terrible people these are! Why did I come here, +where I was not wanted?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Poor child!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I started up at the words. Mr. Axtell left the door open.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You think it strange that I let my sister follow out +such a sick fancy, I suppose."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I think it is dreadful,—terrible."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Oh, no, it is not. Why do you think so?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Talking to dead people!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Well?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"They don't hear you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Perhaps not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You <i>know</i> they <i>can't</i>."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, I do not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Then go and learn it. Will you go and listen in +there?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lettie wished to be alone."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You're very strange people."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"We are."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He got up quickly, confusedly, crossed the room, and turned +a picture that was upon the sofa. I had not noticed it before. I glanced up at +the wall. The face was gone. The picture that be turned must have been that. He +came back and stood before me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Were you frightened when Lettie came down?" he +asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes; how could I help it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why didn't you turn the lock?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I was asleep when she went out."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What awakened you?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The cold air from the hall."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A careful nurse, you are!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am not careful."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He teased me, this man. I hate to be teased. And all this +time, whilst he stood questioning me, Miss Axtell was in that lone, silent +room, confessing to the dead. It was worse than the tower-confessional; and +besides, what had she done that was so bad? Nothing, I felt convinced. Why would +she do such a thing?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I think I must have spoken the last thought; for Mr. Axtell +answered it in his next words.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lettie is only working out a necessity of her own +spirit. She is not harming any living soul. I cannot see why you should look so +white and terrified about it. Have you tasted the coffee?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I had not thought of it: I told him so.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Did you give my sister what the doctor left for +her?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Honestly, I had forgotten that the powders were to be given +every half-hour, and I had offered only one.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I don't think you have chosen your vocation +wisely," he said, when I had told him of my forgetfulness.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It seems not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He went out. Very gently he entered the place of the +soulless one. I heard a low, murmurous sound, with a deal of contentment in it. +After a few moments they came out. He asked me again to carry the lamp. I went +up before them. I couldn't go after; I was afraid of words, or I knew not what, +coming from that room.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Axtell gave the second powder, evidently afraid to trust +me. Miss Lettie seemed quite tranquil,—a change had come over her. Her +brother poured a cup of coffee and <i>told</i> me to drink it. What right had +he to tell me to do anything? What right had I to notice it amid the scenes of +this night? but I did, and the coffee remained untasted.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I cannot trust you alone," he said; and leaving +me sitting there in Miss <span lang=FR>Lettie's</span> chair before the fire, +he lay down upon the lounge and went to sleep.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The half-hour went by; this time I would remember my duty. +Miss Axtell was awake still, but very quiet. Her face was scorched with fever, +when I gave her the third powder. I began to feel excessively sleepy; but to fail +the second time,—it would never answer. The coffee was the alternative; I +drank of it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Again Miss Axtell asked that I would bathe her head. That, +with the half-hour powders, which quite forgot their sleep-bestowing +characteristic, was the only change until the day began to dawn.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katie crept in with it, all in the little shivers March +mornings bring.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She didn't see Mr. Axtell. She asked,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How has Miss Lettie been?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I haven't been asleep, I believe," answered Miss +Axtell.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She called Katie to her, and gave some house-orders, in +which I thought I heard an allusion to breakfast, in connection with my name. I +knew nothing about the arrangements of this house, but ventured to follow Katie +out, and ask if there was any one to take my place, should I go home. Finding +that my longer stay was unneedful, I went. How lovely the earth seemed on that +morning, not long ago, and yet so long! Why could not people live with quiet +thoughts, and peaceful quietness of life, in this little country-village, where +there seemed nothing to wake up torrents?</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie stood beside me, with a tempting little cup in her +hand; upon the table lay a breakfast,—for somebody destined, I was sure.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I thought I'd waken you, so that you might not lose +your night's sleep," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Thank you. What time is it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Look at what the sun says."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She put up the shade, and the sun came in from the west.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"So long? Have I slept?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"So long, my dear"; and Sophie gave me a kiss.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie was not demonstrative. I answered it with—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What queer people you sent me to stay with!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You make a mistake, Anna; think a moment; you're +dreaming; I did not send you there at all."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Well, what queer people I went to stay with!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How was Miss Axtell, when you came away?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Really, I don't know; better, I should think. But, +Sophie, pray tell me how it is that I should never have heard of them +before."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Partly because they have been away during the three +years that you have been in the habit of visiting us,—and partly because +Mr. Axtell, and his sister, too, I think, have a very decided way of avoiding +us. What induces Mr. Axtell to perform the office of sexton is more than any one +in the congregation can divine."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I intend to find out, Sophie."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"In some way,—how, I cannot tell."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"In the interim, take some breakfast, or you'll lose +your curiosity in hunger."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Aaron sent for Sophie just here, and, as usual, I was +deserted for him.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I began to scheme a little. "If Miss Axtell had only +been the sexton, I could have found a thread; there must be one. Where shall I +look for it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How did you manage with our surly Abraham last night? +would he let you stay?" asked Aaron, when I joined the family of two.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He was not very surly; I managed him considerably +better than I did his beautiful sister," I said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He proceeded to question me of the night-events. I told only +of the visit to the dead, leaving out the conversations preceding the event.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"An unwarrantable proceeding of Abraham's," said +Aaron.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And that room, so cold, as they always keep such +rooms. I expect to hear that Miss Axtell is much worse to-day," was +Sophie's comment, when I had told all that I thought it right to tell.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Aaron went away early in the afternoon, to visit some +parishioners who lived among the highlands, where the snows of winter had made +it difficult to go.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie said, she would read to me. My piece of +"knitting-work" was still unfinished, and I, sitting near a window +looking churchward, knitted, whilst Sophie pushed back from her low, cool brow +those bands of softly purplish hair, and read to me something that strangely +soothed my militant spirit, lifted me out of my present self, carried me +whither breezes of charity stirred the foliage of the world, and opened sweet +flower-blooms on dark, unpromising trees. I had been wafted up to a height +where I thought I should forever keep in memory the view I saw, and feel +charity toward all erring mortals as long as life endured, when a noise came to +my ears. I knew it instantly, before I could catch my dropping stitch and look +out. It was the first stroke on hard Mother Earth, the first knocking sound, +that said, "We've come to ask one more grave of you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie did not seem to have heard: she went on with her +reading. I looked out. Two men were in the church-yard: one held a measuring-line +in his hand, the other a spade. The one with the spade went on to mark the hard +winter-beaten turf,—the knotted grass he cut through. I saw him describe +the outline of a grave,—the other standing there, silently looking on. +When the grave was marked, the one wielding the spade looked up at the silent +looker-on, who bowed his head, as if to say, "It is right." Then he +began to strike deeper, to hit the stones under the sod.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is it?" asked Sophie, looking up, for now +she heard.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I think it's Mrs. Axtell's grave that is to be +made," I said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie came to the window.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It's a wonder he don't make it himself."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Who make it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why, Abraham Axtell. Look now,—see him look at +it. It would be very like him. He's fond of such doleful things. He has a way +of haunting the Church-yard. Aaron sees him there sometimes on moonlight +nights."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Even while she spoke, Mr. Axtell did take the spade from the +man; and striking down deeper, stronger than he, he rolled out stones, and the +yellow, hard earth, crusty with the frost not yet out of it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There! I thought he would. Just watch now, and see of +how much use that man is; he might as well be away," exclaimed Sophie.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We two watched the other two in yonder church-yard, until +the pile of earth grew so high that it half-concealed them. Two or three times +the man seemed to offer to take the spade from Mr. Axtell, but he kept it and +worked away. At last the excavation grew so deep that one must needs go down +into it to make it deeper. Would Mr. Axtell go? We watched to see. Sophie said +"Yes" to the question; I thought "No." There grew a pause. +Mr. Axtell stopped in his work, looked at the man, and must have spoken; for he +picked up his coat and walked away.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I wonder what is coming now," said Sophie.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Nothing," answered I; "for Mr. Axtell +evidently is going."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Time enough to finish to-morrow," she said.—"Where +are you going, Anna?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"To ask after his sister," I answered, and +hastened out, for I had seen Mr. Axtell pick up the spade as if to go.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But he did not go; he stood leaning upon the spade, looking +into the open grave, forgetful of everything above the earth. I thought to +approach him unheard and unseen; but it was willed otherwise, for I stepped +upon some of the crispy earth thrown out, and set the stones to rattling in a +very rude sort of way. He turned quickly upon me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You have chosen a very sad place to meditate +over," I said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Does it trouble you, if I have?" he asked, not +changing his position.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, not in the least, Sir. I came to ask after Miss +Axtell."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lettie is much worse, very ill indeed, to-day."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am very sorry to hear it. I ought not to have +thought myself wise enough to take care of her last night."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, you ought; you pleased her; she has asked for you +several times to-day,—only she calls you another name. I wish you +wouldn't mind it, or seem to notice it either."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is the name?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Never mind it now; perhaps you will not see her until +she is sane, and then she will give you only your own."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I wish you would tell me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The spade upon which Mr. Axtell leaned seemed suddenly to +have failed to do its duty, for it slid along the distance to the very edge of +the grave. Mr. Axtell regained his position and his strength, that had failed +only for the moment.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, you do not wish it," he said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What had become of all my sweet charity-blossoms, that +unfolded such a little time ago, when Sophie was reading to me? Surely the time +of withering had not come so soon? An untimely frost must have withered them +all, for I answered,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You are dogmatical."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, I am not. I only see farther on than you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A pleasant way to say, 'You're blind.'"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And if it is true?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"To say it to one's self, I suppose, is the better way; +for others certainly will of you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A sensible conclusion. Who taught you it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You, perhaps."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Did I? Then my life has been of some little use."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I saw you very usefully employed not long ago."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Doing that?" and he pointed to the open place.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, the strangest occupation I ever saw a man engaged +in."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The man did it awkwardly."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And you?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Better, as you can see."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I'm no judge."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, you are."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I saw Aaron coming, driving slowly on. I knew that I must go +in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Shall I come and stay with Miss Axtell to-night?" +I asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You do not look able."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am. I've not been long awake. I am quite +restored."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He looked up at me. It was the very first time that I had +seen him do so.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Do you wish to come?" he asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What a question! I couldn't answer. I thought of my tower-secret, +which I felt convinced was wrapped up in that large, <span lang=EN-GB>sombre</span> +mansion, where his dead mother (whom I had never seen) lay, and his beautiful +sister was. I had not answered him. He spoke again,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"As if it could please you to come where death and +suffering are! I will find some one; if not, I can stay up."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will come, if you can trust me, after last night's +errors."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You look like one to be trusted."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am glad you think so. Are my services +accepted?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Gratefully, if you'll promise one thing."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Ask it."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Sleep until I send for you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I can't promise."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You'll try?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Perhaps"; and I went back to the parsonage.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Sophie had deserted the reading and the window to do +something that she imagined would please Aaron when he came home. It was nearly +evening. The sun was gone. I resumed my seat and work.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You look gloomy, Anna,—what is it?" asked +Aaron's evergreen voice, as Aaron's self came into the room, somewhat the worse +for mud and mountain wear. "Was last night's watching too much for +you?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Oh, no; I'm going again to-night."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Going where?" Sophie was the questioner.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"To stay with Miss Axtell."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I wouldn't, Anna; one night has made you pale," +she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You're a frightened little thing," I said. +"You've Aaron's headachy eyes of yesterday."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you promised to go?" Aaron asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have. Mr. Axtell is to send for me in time."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>No more was said on the subject. Aaron had learned many +things in his visit to the people's homes. I fancy that he gathered much +material for Sunday-sermons that afternoon. I could not help wishing that he +knew all of last night's teaching to me. An idle wish; how could he? What is +knowledge to one is but dry dust to another soul. The soils of the human heart +are as various as those of our planet, and therein as many and as strange +plants are grown. Why had I always thought mine to be adapted to the aloe?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The evening was dull. I asked Aaron to lend me a sermon. He +inquired,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What for?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"To go to sleep over," I said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And are they so soporific?" he laughingly asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It's a great while since I've read one. What have you +been doing lately in your profession? anything remarkable?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He brought me one. It aroused me. The evening passed on. I +finished the sermon. Bedtime came in the parsonage, and no messenger from Mr. +Axtell for me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Aaron offered to go. I said, "No, they were such +strange people, I would rather not." Chloe came in from the kitchen to say +that "Kate, Miss Axtell's girl, had come, and said, 'Miss Lettie was too +ill for Miss Percival to take care of her. Mr. Abraham couldn't leave her.'"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The funeral was to be on the morrow.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal style='text-autospace:none'><span style='font-size:8.0pt; +font-family:"Courier New"'> </span></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The morrow came. Early after breakfast I went to the house +whereto I had gone with the neighbor's boy two nights before. I met Mr. Axtell +just leaving. I inquired after his sister.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"A bad night," he said; "the doctor is here; +are you come to stay?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"If I can be of use."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He walked back with me, went to the sick-room, and left me +there with the doctor and Miss Axtell.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She didn't refuse medicines, it seemed; for Doctor Eaton was +administering something when I went in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The same eager look flashed out of his eyes when she spoke +to me. She did not remember me,—she called me Mary. Common name it is, +but the change seemed to please this quaint M.D.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you found out about the face?" he asked, +when he had answered my inquiries after his patient.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It isn't there any longer. Somebody's taken it +away."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Ah!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Don't you care to know about it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, it was a pleasant face,—a prettiness of +youth about it."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Ask him,—do you hear, young lady?—ask +him"; and giving me directions for the morning, he left.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Curious old doctor,—what care should he have +concerning it?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The opiate, if opiate it was, that Doctor Eaton gave Miss +Axtell, quickly worked its spell; for after he had gone, she scarcely noticed +me; she only moaned a little, and turned her head upon the pillow, as if to ease +the pain that made her face so flushed. The room was darkened; the fire upon +the hearth was almost out. It didn't seem the same room as that in which I had +heard my song so recently. I had nothing to do but to sit and watch,—a +sad, nerve-aching woman-work, at the best. In my pocket I had put the bit of +woman's wear that I had taken from the iron bar in my tower. I longed to open +the closet-door, and compare it with the dress that I had seen hanging there. +No opportunity came. Miss Axtell was very drowsy, if not asleep. For full three +hours not a varying occurred. Where had every one gone? Was I forgotten, buried +in with this sick lady out of the world? Not quite; for I heard the vitalizing +charm of a footstep, followed, by the gentlest of knocks, which I rejoicingly +answered. It was the brother, come to look at his sister. He walked quietly in, +stood several moments looking at her face, as she lay with half the repose of +sleep over it, then came to me and said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She looks better."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am glad you think so," I replied; "she +seems very ill to me. She called me Mary, when I first came in; since then she +hasn't noticed me."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She called you Mary?" he said. "Are you Mary?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"My name is Anna," I answered.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Then you are not Mary?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Of course not; I am not two."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>After a little while of silence, he said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"My mother's funeral will be this afternoon."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Is there anything that I can do for you before the +time?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, if you will."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am ready."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Wait here a little," he said, and went down.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katie came up, her young rosy face delightful to behold in +the half-way gloom that filled the place.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Mr. Abraham is waiting to see you in the +library," she said. "I'll stay till you come up."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In my short journey down, I <span lang=EN-GB>marvelled</span> +much concerning what he might want. As I entered the room, I saw no visible +thing for hands to do. Now, if it were but a hat to fold the winding badge of +sorrow about, or a pair of gloves to mend; but no,—he, this strange man, +a sort of barbaric gentleman, looked down at me as I went in. "The doctor +was right; somebody has taken the face down," I thought, as my glance went +up the wall.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is there for me to do?" I asked; for Mr. +Axtell seemed to have forgotten that he had intimated the possibility of such +an event.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Simply to look upon the face of my mother ere it goes +forever away."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Do you wish it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Very much."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I would rather not."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"As you will"; and he turned away proudly, with +that high style of curling pride that has a touch of soul in it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, Mr. Axtell, it is not as I will; it is very much +as I will not. I can go in there, and look at the face you wish; but it will +unfit me for the duties of life for days to come. The face that I see there +will tenant this house forever, and not this only,—it will be seen +wherever I go."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Can you not overcome it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why not, then?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It takes such sweet revenge that my overcoming is the +sorriest kind of victory."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It <i>is</i> strange," he said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What, Sir?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I beg your pardon; I was thinking in words," he +replied.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am sorry that I cannot do as you wish," I said, +and resumed my profession in the room above.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The day went on, never pausing one moment for the sorrow and +the suffering that another day had brought to this house in Redleaf.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Just before the funeral-bell began to toll, Mr. Axtell came +again to the sickroom door. There was no change. I told him so. Why did the man +look as if he had been crying? Was it because he had, I wonder?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He did not come in. Poor man! He was the only relative, the +only one to stand at the last beside the grave he opened yesterday. I could not +help it, I held out my hand to him as he stood there in the hall, I had no +words wherewith to convey sympathy. He looked at it very much as he might have +done at one of the waxen hands that belong to waxen figures in a shop-window, +without one <span lang=FR>ray</span> of the meaning it was intended to convey +entering into his mind. I felt confused, uncomfortable. It seemed to me, then, +irreverent to his sorrow, that I, a stranger, should have attempted the proffer +of sympathy; but I must make him comprehend me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I wanted to say that I am sorry with you," I +said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Will you say it the same way again?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How?" for this time it was I who did not +comprehend.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He held out his hand. I fulfilled my original intention.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I thank you," he said, and went down alone to his +mother's funeral.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>How do people ever live through funerals? The solemn tolling +of the bell went on. The village-people came, one by one. Aaron's voice it was +that was heard in the burial-service that came sounding in to me, sitting close +beside the bed whereon the sick one lay. There seemed a comfort in getting near +to her. At last—what a cycle of thought! time it was at last—I +heard the moving sound of many feet, and then I knew that they were carrying +her out, out of the house where she had lived, out of the house wherein she had +died, carrying her forth for burial,—forth to the grave her only son had +made for her; and I, little, shivering, cowardly soul, hid my face in my hands, +and let my tears fall,—not because I knew this proud lady dead,—not +because a <span lang=EN-GB>fibre</span> from my warm heart was being drawn out +to be knitted into that fathom-deep grave, for it never would be one of <i>my</i> +graves,—but because this death and sorrow <i>were in the world</i>, and I +must live my life out in a world <i>with them</i>. The funeral-bell stirred me. +I looked out from the window, and saw the long procession moving slowly on.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Katie startled me, coming in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The minister's wife is down-stairs; she wants to know +if she may come up," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"She is my sister, Katie; yes, I think she may +come."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I was so relieved to see Sophie; it was getting back to self +again, out of which I had gone in this house. I could not help expressing my +relief.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There's no one down there to close the house and put +away the sad reminders," Sophie said, after asking about my patient. +"Some one ought to make it more cheerful down there before Mr. Axtell +comes."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Won't you, Sophie, since there's no one else?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I could not yet go into the one room. Death had been too +recently there.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I cannot put away the feeling that I am not wanted; +but it has no place here, now at least, and I will go," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>So, with Katie to help, she went to throw an air of light +into the rooms below, to waft away the <span lang=EN-GB>sombre</span> shadows +that clouded them, to let in a little of the coming life that must still be +lived. And I waited on, up-stairs, and listened, counting each long, low peal +of the bell, as it shook out its solemn meaning into the March air, and lost +itself in quivering distances. They, the kindly hearts, who had come to perform +the last rite, must have moved very slowly on; for I counted out the years that +the one gone had lived, ere the bell stopped.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Then was silence. In that stillness they were gently lifting +down the once more little one,—for are not our dead all little ones, to +be watchfully thought of, to be tenderly cared for?—yes, lifting her +gently down into the cradle that God hath prepared, and set the sun to rock, +until His smile shall awaken, and His arms lift us out of it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The opiate's power was past. Miss Axtell turned upon the +pillow, and asked Kate for a glass of water.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I carried it to her, lifted her head, and she drank of it +without opening her eyes. She asked for Abraham.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He will be here soon," I replied.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I thought it was Kate," she said, calling me my +own name. "Have you been here long?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Since morning."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Is it afternoon?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, three o'clock."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why doesn't Abraham come?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"He was here not very long ago," I said, and asked +her to take some food, not wishing her to question me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Food!" she said, "what an odd word! Yes, so +that you give it to me in pleasant guise."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is pleasant to you to-day?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Something soft and cool."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What could I give her? It was very convenient having Sophie +so near. This must be Miss Axtell's self who had spoken. Delighted with the +change, I ran quickly down to beg of sister Sophie a little skill in preparing +some dish suitable to the illness up-stairs.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I'll go and make something," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And straightway taking off her hat and cloak, and tossing +them just where mine had gone two nights before, she followed willing Katie to +regions where I had not been, and I went back to find my patient perfectly +herself,—only oblivious of time. She asked me if the various preludes to +the sad event had been properly done. I answered that it was over.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And I was not to know it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I had heard that tone of voice, surely, somewhere else in +life. Where could it have been? I thought of my tower, and of that dress in +there. Was never to come chance of seeing it? It seemed quite probable, for the +lady asked to have the doors opened through.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Through where?" I asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"All of them," she said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I opened the two into the dressing-room; there was still +another out of that. Uncertain if she might mean it as well, I went back to +ask.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes," she said; and I opened it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The first object that met my sight was the painting—the +young girl's face—that had been in the library. The hair was covered, as +if one had been trying effects of light and shade. I saw this instantly, and +turned away.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I would like you to raise the shades in there," +Miss Axtell said. "I like the light that comes in through the distance, +the afternoon light; how much it sees upon the earth!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Going in again, I drew up one, put the drapery of the +curtains back, and laid my hand upon the second, when the door from the hall +opened, admitting the owner of the place.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Axtell did not look window-ward. He did not see me. A +stillness of thought and being crept over me. I stood, with fingers clasped +about the curtain-cord, enduring conscious paralysis. And he? He laid his +overcoat across one chair; next to it was the one on which the portrait of the +young girl had been placed. In front of it Mr. Axtell kneeled down, buried his +face in his hands, and remained motionless. A second tower I was imprisoned in, +higher up than the first,—a well, deep with veins of liquid soul, such as +man nor patriarch hath ever builded, and I, a bit of rock-moss, unable to reach +out to the light. I heard Miss Axtell's voice, and yet I could not move. She +called, "Miss Percival!"—Mr. Axtell did not lift his head; she +called, "Abraham!"—then I moved. With a slow swiftness of +silence I passed by the kneeling figure, and should have gained the door, had +not Mr. Axtell risen up. His eyes were, for the second time, upon me. A dark, +thunderous look of anger clouded his face. I stood still and looked at him. If +he had evinced emotion at my presence in any other mode, I could not have met +his look.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Your sister wished me to raise the shades in here," +I said; "she likes western light."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why not do it, then?"—the anger rolling +sombrous as at the first,—he asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I looked back. Noticing that only one of the shades was +lifted,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I will leave it for you to do," I said; and with +one involuntary glance at the young, life-young face, painted there, I went.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I thought I heard Abraham's footsteps in the +hall," said Miss Axtell, when I entered the room.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You did," I replied. "He is come in."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The second time the sister called, "Abraham!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, Lettie," he answered; but he did not come.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"What is the matter, Abraham?" she asked. +"Why do you not come?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I'm coming, Lettie."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I thought of the "something soft and cool" that +Sophie was making for the invalid; and the thought took me up and carried me +away before he came in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It was not destined that I should be long gone; for I met +Katie bringing up something, whose odor was not even a temperate one.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How is this?" I asked of her; "did Mrs. +Wilton send it?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Yes, Miss Percival."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Where is she, Katie?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Gone home, she told me to tell you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Why must Sophie run away? She fancies Aaron might not see +the stars come out, if she were not near to point their coming. I would not be +so simple, I think; but, whatever I thought, I took from rosy-faced Katie the +bowl of warm and fragrant gruel, and carried it in to Miss Axtell.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>She took it, looked up smilingly at me, and said, +"Something soft and cool."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Axtell held it for her, whilst slowly she took the +gruel.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Doctor Eaton came in.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"How is this?" he asked; "we shall take great +skill and credit to our individual self for this recovery. Now tell me, Miss Lettie, +am I not the very best physician in all Redleaf?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"There being none other in the village, I'll permit you +to quaff the vain draught, so that you will season it with a little of my +gruel; I cannot fancy, even, where it came from," she said, playfully +extending to the doctor her spoon, half filled.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Doctor Eaton bent forward, and put his lips to the spoon she +had not meant him to touch.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Miss Axtell seemed surprised.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why did you do it?" she asked, with a little bit +of childish petulance.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Because I think that you have taken all of it that is +good for you at present. I made use of the speediest remedy; vital cases demand +sure means, you know, Miss Lettie."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Axtell held the bowl of gruel no longer. Doctor Eaton +turned to me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you been here all day?" he asked.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I have."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Will you put your hat on and walk in the air? There's +just time enough for you to walk to the parsonage and come back, before +dark."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Did Doctor Eaton know how to prescribe for cases which were +not vital? It so seemed; for he had given me my need this once. I put my hat +on, as he had recommended, and went out. The day was saying its soft, genial +farewells, that mingle so charmfully with the promise to come again, that is +repeated throughout the great city of Nature. Doctor Eaton evidently intended +to watch the effect of his dictation, for he joined me, giving me voice-intimation +of his presence.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Have you asked him yet?" he said, coming to my +side, and speaking in his peculiar way, very much as if I were a little child, +and he its father.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Please tell me what I am expected to do," I +replied.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"To ask Abraham Axtell about that picture, Miss +Percival. It will do him good."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I am afraid your prescriptions are not always the most +agreeable," I said.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Maybe not; it seems quite possible; but bitters are +good,—try them."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"I would rather not, Doctor Eaton."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No? Then offer them to others. Abraham Axtell is one +needing them."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You are his physician."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You think so?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, I take the seeming."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Unsafe road, young lady! don't take it,—take +mine. Just ask Abraham whose face that is, then come and tell me what he tells +you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Breach of confidence, Doctor Eaton. I couldn't do it +possibly."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"You'll tell me, though, depend upon it," he said, +and was carried off in great haste to repair a broken bone, and I saw him no +more, until—when?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I found the reason why Sophie must go home without one word +for me. Aaron had said that he would like some peculiar admixture of flour, +etc.; and she had feared that he might meet disappointment, unless she +prevented it by hurrying home and adding the ingredient of her hands for his +delectable comfort, which bit of spicery he undoubtedly appreciated to the +complete value of the sacrifice. Sophie is wise in her day and generation. I +look with affectionate, reverent admiration upon her life. It seems that she is +in just the position that Creating Wisdom fitted her for. I saw Aaron looking +at her across the table. She was preparing for him his cup of tea; and of +course he had <span lang=EN-GB>nought</span> to do save to wait, and in waiting +he watched her. What was it that I saw? I cannot tell. Why, how is this? the +world has two sides, two phases; how many more I cannot know. That which I saw +in Aaron's face was a something transitory, a nebulous luminousness of an +existence that I had not known, had not imagined, having never before received +intimation of it. Why will light evanish so soon?—the fragment that shone +in on this <i>Terra Incognita</i> went out, was submerged in the Cup of <i>Thea +Sinensis</i> that Aaron received from Sophie's hand. I cannot divine why all +this new world of being should fancy to unroll itself, an endless panorama of pansophical +mysteries, before my eyes. I do not appreciate it in the least. Philip Bailey's +"Mystic" is more comprehensible to me. This is a practical, matter-of-fact +world; I know it is. Sophie Percival, my sister, is the wife of Aaron Wilton, +country-clergyman in Redleaf,—nothing more; and I thought of my untasted +cup of tea, in which lay condensed all the fragrance of Wooeshan hill-sides.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Why not take your tea, Anna?" Sophie asked, just +as I had decided not to think of the things that misted around me.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>My answer was a taste of it. I really thought I was doing my +duty, when Sophie's words came upon me, a little distractingly,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Will you have more sugar in your tea, Anna?"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No, I thank you."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Aaron said,—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"The house of Axtell seems to have stolen away your +proper self, Anna. I've been watching you, and I don't really think you've any +idea of what you are subsisting on. Tell me now, what <i>is</i> upon the +table?" and Aaron held a newspaper, lying conveniently near, before my +eyes.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Confession and absolution are synonymous with you, +aren't they, Aaron?" I asked. "Please give me some bread"; and I +put the disagreeable paper away.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There was no bread upon the table.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"My wisdom is confirmed," said Aaron; and he gave +me the delectable substitute, Sophie's handiwork.</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section7> + +<p class=Chapter>METHODS OF STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>XIV.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>If I succeeded in explaining my subject clearly in the last +article, my readers will have seen that the five Orders of the Echinoderms are +but five expressions of the same idea; and I will now endeavor to show that the +same identity of structural conception prevails also throughout the two other +Classes of Radiates, and further, that not only the Orders within each Class, +but the three Classes themselves, Echinoderms, Acalephs, and Polyps, bear the +strictest comparison, founded upon close structural analysis, and are based +upon one organic formula.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We will first compare the three Orders of Acalephs,—Hydroids +being the lowest, Discophorae; next, and the Ctenophorae highest. The fact that +these animals have no popular names shows how little they are known. It is true +that we hear some of them spoken of as Jelly-Fishes; but this name is usually +applied to the larger Discophore, when it is thrown upon the beach and lies a +shapeless mass of gelatinous substance on the sand, or is seen floating on the +surface of the water. The name gives no idea of the animal as it exists in full +life and activity. When we speak of a Bird or an Insect, the mere name calls up +at once a characteristic image of the thing; but the name of Jelly-Fish, or Sun-Fish, +or Sea-Blubber, as the larger Acalephs are also called, suggests to most +persons a vague idea of a fish with a gelatinous body,—or, if they have +lived near the sea-shore, they associate it only with the unsightly masses of +jelly-like substance sometimes strewn in thousands along the beaches after a +storm. To very few does this term recall either the large Discophore, with its +purple disk and its long streamers floating perhaps twenty or thirty feet +behind it as it swims,—or the Ctenophore, with its more delicate, +transparent structure, and almost invisible fringes in parallel rows upon the +body, which decompose the rays of light as the creature moves through the +water, so that hues of ruby-red and emerald-green, blue, purple, yellow, all +the colors of the rainbow, ripple constantly over its surface when it is in +motion,—or the Hydroid, with its little shrub-like communities living in +tide-pools, establishing themselves on rocks, shells, or sea-weeds, and giving +birth not only to animals attached to submarine bodies, like themselves, but +also to free Medusae or Jelly-Fishes that in their turn give birth again to +eggs which return to the parent-form, and thus, by alternate generations, +maintain two distinct patterns of animal life within one cycle of growth.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Perhaps, of all the three Classes of Radiates, Acalephs are +the least known. The general interest in Corals has called attention to the +Polyps, and the accessible haunts of the Sea-Urchins and Star-Fishes have made +the Echinoderms almost as familiar to the ordinary observer as the common sea-shells, +while the Acalephs are usually to be found at a greater distance from the +shore, and are not easily kept in confinement. It is true that the Hydroids +live along the shore, and may be reared in tanks without difficulty; but they +are small, and would be often taken for sea-weeds by those ignorant of their +true structure.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Thus this group of animals, with all their beauty of form, +color, and movement, and peculiarly interesting from their singular modes of +growth, remains comparatively unknown except to the professional naturalist. It +may, therefore, be not uninteresting or useless to my readers, if I give some +account of the appearance and habits of these animals, keeping in view, at the +same time, my ultimate object, namely, to show that they are all founded on the +same structural elements and have the same ideal significance. I will begin +with some account of the Hydroids, including the story of the alternate +generations, by which they give birth to Medusae, while the Medusae, in their +turn, reproduce the Hydroids, from which they spring. But first, a few words +upon the growth of Radiates in general.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There is no more interesting series of transformations than +that of the development of Radiates. They are all born as little transparent +globular bodies, covered with <span lang=FR>vibratile</span> cilia, swimming +about in this condition for a longer or shorter time; then, tapering somewhat +at one end and broadening at the other, they become attached by the narrower +extremity, while at the opposite one a depression takes place, deepening in the +centre till it becomes an aperture, and extending its margin to form the +tentacles. All Radiates pass through this Polyp-like condition at some period +of their lives, either before or after they are hatched from the eggs. In some +it forms a marked period of their existence, while in others it passes very +rapidly and is undergone within the egg; but, at whatever time and under +whatever conditions it occurs, it forms a necessary part of their development, +and shows that all these animals have one and the same pattern of growth. This +difference in the relative importance and duration of certain phases of growth +is by no means peculiar to the Radiates, but occurs in all divisions of the +Animal Kingdom. There are many Insects that pass through their metamorphoses +within the egg, appearing as complete Insects at the moment of their birth; but +the series of changes is nevertheless analogous to that of the Butterfly, whose +existence as Worm, Chrysalis, and Winged Insect is so well known to all. Take +the Grasshopper, for instance: with the exception of the wings, it is born in +its mature form; but it has had its Worm-like stage within the egg as much as +the Butterfly that we knew a few months ago as a Caterpillar. In the same way +certain of the higher Radiates undergo all their transformations, from the Polyp +phase of growth to that of Acaleph or Echinoderm, after birth; while others +pass rapidly through the lower phases of their existence within the egg, and +are born in their final condition, when all their intermediate changes have +been completed. We have appropriate names for all the aspects of life in the +Insect: we call it Larva in its first or Worm-like period, Chrysalis in its +second or Crustacean-like phase of life, and Imago in its third and last +condition as Winged Insect. But the metamorphoses of the Radiates are too +little known to be characterized by popular names; and when they were first +traced, the relation between their different phases of existence was not +understood, so that the same animal in different stages of growth has +frequently been described as two or more distinct animals. This has led to a +confusion in our nomenclature much to be regretted; for, however inappropriate +it may be, a name once accepted and passed into general use is not easily +changed.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>That early stage of growth, common to all Radiates, in which +they resemble the Polyps, has been called the Hydra state, in consequence of +their resemblance to the fresh-water Hydra to be found in quantities on the +under side of Duck-Weed and Lily-pads. For any one that cares to examine these +animals, it may be well to mention that they are easily found and thrive well +in confinement. Dip a pitcher into any pool of fresh water where Duck-Weed or +Lilies are growing in the summer, and you are sure to bring up hundreds of +these fresh-water Hydrae, swarming in myriads in all our ponds. In a glass bowl +their motions are easily watched; and a great deal may be learned of their +habits and mode of life, with little trouble. Such an animal soon completes its +growth: for the stage which I have spoken of as transient for the higher +Radiates is permanent for these; and when the little sphere moving about by +means of its <span lang=FR>vibratile</span> cilia has elongated a little, +attached itself by the lower end to some surface, while the inversion of the +upper end has formed the mouth and digestive cavity, and the expansion of its +margin has made the tentacles, the very simple story of the fresh-water Hydra +is told. But the last page in the development of these lower Radiates is but +the opening chapter in that of the higher ones, and I will give some account of +their transformations as they have been observed in the Acalephs.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image001.gif" +alt="Coryne mirabilis, natural size"></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>On shells and stones, on sea-weeds or on floating logs, +there may often be observed a growth of exquisitely delicate branches, looking +at first sight more like a small bunch of moss than anything else. But gather +such a mossy tuft and place it in a glass bowl filled with sea-water, and you +will presently find that it is full of life and activity. Every branch of this +miniature shrub terminates in a little club-shaped head, upon which are +scattered a number of tentacles. They are in constant motion, extending and +contracting their tentacles, some of the heads stretched upwards, others bent +downwards, all seeming very busy and active. Each tentacle has a globular tip +filled with a multitude of cells, the so-called lasso-cells, each one of which +conceals a coiled-up thread. These organs serve to seize the prey, shooting out +their long threads, thus entangling the victim in a net more delicate than the +finest spider's web, and then carrying it to the mouth by the aid of the lower +part of the tentacle. The complication of structure in these animals, a whole +community of which, numbering from twenty to thirty individuals, is not more +than an inch in height, is truly wonderful. In such a community the different +animals are hardly larger than a good-sized pin's head; and yet every +individual has a digestive cavity and a complete system of circulation. Its +body consists of a cavity inclosed in a double wall, continuing along the whole +length of each branch till it joins the common stem forming the base of the +stock. In this cavity the food becomes softened and liquefied by the water that +enters with it through the mouth, and is thus transformed into a circulating fluid +which flows from each head to the very base of the community and back again. +The inner surface of the digestive cavity is lined with brownish-red granules, +which probably aid in the process of digestion; they frequently become +loosened, fall into the circulating fluid, and may be seen <span lang=FR>borne</span> +along the stream as it passes up and down. The rosy tint of the little +community is due to these reddish granules.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image002.gif" +alt="Single head or branch of Coryne mirabilis magnified, with a Medusa bud: a, stem; c, club-shaped body; o, mouth; tt, tentacles; d, Medusa bud."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This crowd of beings united in a common life began as one +such little Hydra-like animal as I have described above,—floating free at +first, then becoming attached, and growing into a populous stock by putting out +buds at different heights along the length of the stem. The formation of such a +bud is very simple, produced by the folding outwardly of the double wall of the +body, appearing first as a slight projection of the stem sideways, which +elongates gradually, putting out tentacles as it grows longer, while at the +upper end an aperture is formed to make the mouth. This is one of the lower +group of Radiates, known as Hydroids, and long believed to be Polyps, from +their mode of living in communities and reproducing their kind by budding, +after the fashion of Corals. But if such a little tuft of Hydroids has been +gathered in spring, a close observer may have an opportunity of watching the +growth of another kind of individual from it, which would seem to show its +alliance with the Acalephs rather than the Polyps. At any time late in February +or early in March, bulb-like projections, more globular than the somewhat +elongated buds of the true Hydroid heads, may be seen growing either among the +tentacles of one of these little animals, or just below the head where it +merges in the stem,<a href="#_edn3" name="_ednref3" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[3]</span></span></span></a> +Very delicate and transparent in substance, it is hardly perceptible at first; +and the gradual formation of its internal structure is the less easily +discerned, because a horny sheath, forming the outer covering of the Hydroid +stock, extends to inclose and shield the new-<span lang=ES-TRAD>comer</span>, +whom we shall see to be so different from the animal that gives it birth that +one would suppose the Hydroid parent must be as much surprised at the sight of +its offspring as the Hen that has accidentally hatched a Duck's egg. At the +right moment this film is torn open by the convulsive contractions of the animal, +which, thus freed from its envelope, begins at once to expand. By this time +this little bud has assumed the form of a Medusoid or Jelly-Fish disk, with its +four tubes radiating from the central cavity. The proboscis, so characteristic +of all Jelly-Fishes, hangs from the central opening; and the tentacles, coiled +within the internal cavity up to this time, now make their appearance, and we +have a complete little Medusa growing upon the Hydroid head. Gradually the +point by which it is attached to the parent-stock narrows and becomes more and +more contracted, till the animal drops off and swims away, a free Jelly-Fish.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image003.gif" +alt="Little Jelly-Fish, commonly called Sarsia, the free Medusa, of Coryne mirabilis."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The substance of these animals seems to have hardly more +density or solidity than their native element. I remember showing one to a +friend who had never seen such an animal before, and after watching its +graceful motions for a moment in the glass bowl where it was swimming, he +asked, "Is it anything more than organized water?" The question was +very descriptive; for so little did it seem to differ in substance from the +water in which it floated that one might well fancy that some drops had taken +upon themselves organic structure, and had begun to live and move. It swims by +means of rapid contractions and expansions of its disk, thus impelling itself +through the water, its tentacles floating behind it and measuring many times +the length of the body. The disk is very convex, as will be seen by the wood-cut; +four tubes radiate from the central cavity to the periphery, where they unite +in a circular tube around the margin and connect also with the four tentacles; +from the centre of the lower surface hangs the proboscis, terminating in a +mouth. Notwithstanding the delicate structure of this little being, it is +exceedingly voracious. It places itself upon the surface of the animal on which +it feeds, and, if it have any hard parts, it simply sucks the juices, dropping +the dead carcass immediately after; but it swallows whole the little Acalephs +of other Species and other soft animals that come in its way. Early in summer +these Jelly-Fishes drop their eggs, little transparent pear-shaped bodies, +covered with <span lang=FR>vibratile</span> cilia. They swim about for a time, +until they have found a resting-place, where they attach themselves, each one +founding a Hydroid stock of its own, which will in time produce a new brood of Medusae.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This series of facts, presented here in their connection, +had been observed separately before their true relation was understood. +Investigations had been made on the Hydroid stock, described as <i>Coryne</i>, +and upon its Medusoid offspring, described as <i>Sarsia</i>, named after the +naturalist <span lang=FR>Sars</span>, whose beautiful papers upon this class of +animals have associated his name with it; but the investigations by which all +these facts have been associated in one connected series are very recent. These +transformations do not correspond to our common idea of metamorphoses, as +observed in the Insect, for instance. In the Butterfly's life we have always +one and the same individual,—the Caterpillar passing into the Chrysalis +state, and the Chrysalis passing into the condition of the Winged Insect. But +in the case I have been describing, while the Hydroid gives birth to the +Medusa, it still preserves its own distinct existence; and the different forms +developed on one stock seem to be two parallel lives, and not the various +phases of one and the same life. This group of Hydroids retains the name of Coryne; +and the Medusa born from it, Sarsia, has received, as I have said, the name of +the distinguished investigator to whose labors we owe much of our present +knowledge of these animals.—Let us look now at another group of Hydroids, +whose mode of development is equally curious and interesting.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The little transparent embryos from which they arise, oval +in form, with a slight, scarcely perceptible depression at one end, resemble +the embryos of Coryne already described. They may be seen in great numbers in +the spring, floating about in the water, or rather swimming,—for the +motion of all Radiates in their earliest stage of existence is rapid and +constant, in consequence of the <span lang=FR>vibratile</span> cilia that cover +the surface. At this stage of its existence such an embryo is perfectly free, +but presently its wandering life comes to an end; it shows a disposition to +become fixed, and proceeds to choose a suitable resting-place. I use the word +"choose" advisedly; for though at this time the little embryo seems +to have no developed organs, it yet exercises a certain discrimination in its +selection of a home. Slightly pear-shaped in form, it settles down upon its +narrower end; it wavers and sways to and fro, as if trying to get a firm +foothold and force itself down upon the surface to which it adheres; but +presently, as if dissatisfied with the spot it has chosen, it suddenly breaks +loose and swims away to another locality, where the same examination is +repeated, not more to its own satisfaction apparently, for the creature will +renew the experiment half a dozen times, perhaps, before making a final +selection and becoming permanently attached to the soil. In the course of this +process the lower end becomes flattened, and moulds itself to the shape of the +body on which it rests. Once settled, this animal, thus far hardly more than a +transparent oblong body without any distinct organs, begins to develop rapidly. +It elongates, forming a kind of cup-like base or stem, the upper end spreads +somewhat, the depression at its centre deepens, a mouth is formed that gapes +widely and opens into the digestive cavity, and the upper margin spreads out to +form a number of tentacles, few at first, but growing more and more numerous +till a wreath is completed all around it. In this condition the young Jelly-Fish +has been described under the name of <i>Scyphostoma</i>. As soon as this wreath +of tentacles is formed, a constriction takes place below it, thus separating +the upper portion of the animal from the lower by a marked dividing-line. +Presently a second constriction takes place below the first, then a third, till +the entire length of the animal is divided across by a number of such +transverse constrictions, the whole body growing, meanwhile, in height. But now +an extraordinary change takes place in the portions thus divided off. Each one +assumes a distinct organic structure, as if it had an individual life of its +own. The margin becomes lobed in eight deep scallops, and a tube or canal runs +through the centre of each such lobe to the centre of the body, where a +digestive cavity is already formed. At this time the constrictions have +deepened, so that the margins of all the successive divisions of the little +Hydroid are very prominent, and the whole animal looks like a pile of saucers, +or of disks with scalloped edges and the convex side turned downward. Its +general aspect may be compared to a string of Lilac-blossoms, such as the +children make for necklaces in the spring, in which the base of one blossom is +inserted into the upper side of the one below it. In this condition our Jelly-Fish +has been called <i>Strobila</i>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image004.gif" +alt="Scyphostoma of Aurelia flavidula, our common white Jelly-Fish with a rosy cross."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image005.gif" +alt="Strobila of Aurelia flavidula."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>While these organic changes take place in the lower disks, +the topmost one, forming the summit of the pile and bearing the tentacles, +undergoes no such modification, but presently the first constriction dividing +it from the rest deepens to such a degree that it remains united to them by a +mere thread only, and it soon breaks off and dies. This is the signal for the +breaking up of the whole pile in the same way by the deepening of the +constrictions; but, instead of dying, as they part, they begin a new existence +as free Medusae. Only the lowest portion of the body remains, and around the +margin of this tentacles have developed corresponding to those which crowned +the first little embryo; this repeats the whole history again, growing up +during the following season to divide itself into disks like its predecessor.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image006.gif" +alt="Strobila of Aurelia flavidula: a, Scyphostoma reproduced at the base of a Strobila, bb, all the disks of which have dropped off but the last."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>As each individual separates from the community of which it +has made a part, it reverses its position, and, instead of turning the margin +of the disk upward, it turns it downward, thus bringing the mouth below and the +curve of the disk above. These free individuals have been described under the +name of <i>Ephyra</i>. This is the third phase of the existence of our Jelly-Fish. +It swims freely about, a transparent, umbrella-like disk, with a proboscis +hanging from the lower side, which, to complete the comparison, we may call the +handle of the umbrella. The margin of the disk is even more deeply lobed than +in the Hydroid condition, and in the middle of each lobe is a second +depression, quite deep and narrow, at the base of which is an eye. How far such +organs are gifted with the power of vision we cannot decide; but the cells of +which they are composed certainly serve the purpose of facets, of lenses and +prisms, and must convey to the animal a more or less distinct perception of +light and color. The lobes are eight in number, as before, with a tube +diverging from the centre of the body into each lobe. Shorter tubes between the +lobes alternate with these, making thus sixteen radiating tubes, all ramifying +more or less.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image007.gif" +alt="Ephyra of Aurelia flavidula."></p> + +<img class=fullpage src="images/image008.jpg" +alt="Aurelia flavidula, the common white Jelly-Fish of our sea-shores, seen +from above: c, mouth; eeeeee, eyes; mmmm, lobes or curtain of the mouth in +outlines; ooo, ovaries; ttt, tentacles; ww ramified tubes."> +<p class=MsoNormal>From +this stage to its adult condition, the animal undergoes a succession of changes +in the gradual course of its growth, uninterrupted, however, by any such abrupt +transition as that by which it began its life as a free animal. The lobes are +gradually obliterated, so that the margin becomes almost an unbroken circle. +The eight eyes were, as I have said, at the bottom of depressions in the centre +of the several lobes; but, by the equalizing of the marginal line, the gradual <span +lang=EN-GB>levelling</span>, as it were, of all the inequalities of the edge, +the eyes are pushed out, and occupy eight spots on the margin, where a faint +indentation only marks what was before a deep cut in the lobe. The eight tubes +of the lobes have extended in like manner to the edge, and join it just at the +point where the eyes are placed, so that the extremity of each tube unites with +the base of each eye. Those parts of the margin filling the spaces between the +eyes correspond to the depressions dividing the lobes or scallops in the +earlier stage, and to those radiate the eight other tubes alternating with the +eye-tubes, now divided into numerous branches. Along each of these spaces is +developed a fine, delicate fringe of tentacles, hanging down like a veil when +the animal is at rest, or swept back when it is in motion. In the previous +stage, the tubes ramified toward the margin; but now they branch at or near +their point of starting from the central cavity, so extensively that every part +of the body is traversed by these collateral tubes, and when one looks down at +it from above through the gelatinous transparent disk, the numerous +ramifications resemble the fine fibrous structure of a leaf with its net-work +of nervules.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>On the lower side, or what I have called in a previous +article the oral region of the animal, a wonderfully complicated apparatus is +developed. The mouth projects in four angles, and at each such angle a curtain +arises, stretching outwardly, and sometimes extending as far as the margin. +These curtains are fringed and folded on the lower edge, so that they look like +four ruffled flounces hanging from the lower side of the animal. On the upper +side of the body, but alternating in position with these curtains, are the four +ovaries, crescent-like in shape, and so placed as to form the figure of a +cross, when seen from above through the transparency of the disk. I should add, +that, though I speak of some organs as being on the upper and others on the +lower side of the body, all are under the convex, arched surface of the disk, +which is gelatinous throughout, and simply forms a transparent vaulted roof, as +it were, above the rest of the body.</p> + +<img class=halfpage src="images/image009.gif" +alt="Aurelia flavidula, seen in profile."> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When these animals first make their appearance in the +spring, they may be seen, when the sky is clear and the sea smooth, floating in +immense numbers near the surface of the water, though they do not seek the +glare of the sun, but are more often found about sheltered places, in the +neighborhood of wharves or overhanging rocks. As they grow larger, they lose +something of their gregarious disposition,—they scatter more; and at this +time they prefer the sunniest exposures, and like to bask in the light and +warmth. They assume every variety of attitude, but move always by the regular +contraction and expansion of the disk, which rises and falls with rhythmical +alternations, the average number of these movements being from twelve to +fifteen in a minute. There can be no doubt that they perceive what is going on +about them, and are very sensitive to changes in the state of the atmosphere; +for, as soon as the surface of the water is ruffled, or the sky becomes overcast, +they sink into deeper water, and vanish out of sight. When approached with a +dip-net, it is evident, from the acceleration of their movements, that they are +attempting to escape.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>At the spawning season, toward the end of July or the +beginning of August, they gather again in close clusters. At this period I have +seen them at Nahant in large shoals, covering a space of fifty feet or more, +and packed so closely in one unbroken mass that an oar could not be thrust +between them without injuring many. So deep was the phalanx that I could not +ascertain how far it extended below the surface of the water, and those in the +uppermost layer were partially forced out of the water by the pressure of those +below.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is not strange that the relation between the various phases +of this extraordinary series of metamorphoses, so different from each other in +their external aspects, should not have been recognized at once, and that this +singular Acaleph should have been called Scyphostoma in its simple Hydroid +condition, Strobila after the transverse division of the body had taken place, Ephyra +in the first stages of its free existence, and Aurelia in its adult state,—being +thus described as four distinct animals. These various forms are now rightly +considered as the successive stages of a development intimately connected in +all its parts,—beginning with the simple Hydroid attached to the ground, +and closing in the shape of our common Aurelia, with its white transparent +disk, its silky fringe of tentacles around the margin, its ruffled curtains +hanging from the mouth, and its four crescent-shaped ovaries grouped to form a +cross on the summit. From these ovaries a new brood of little embryos is shed +in due time.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There are other Hydroids giving rise to Medusae buds, from +which, however, the Medusae do not separate to begin a new life, but wither on +the Hydroid stock, after having come to maturity and dropped their eggs. Such +is the <i>Hydractinia polyclina</i>. This curious community begins, like the +preceding ones, with a single little individual, settling upon some shell or +stone, or on the rocks in a tide-pool, where it will sometimes cover a space of +several square feet. Rosy in color, very soft and delicate in texture, such a +growth of Hydractinia spreads a velvet-like carpet over the rocks on which it +occurs. They may be kept in aquariums with perfect success, and for that +purpose it is better to gather them on single shells or stones, so that the +whole community may be removed unbroken. These colonies of Hydractinia have one +very singular character: they exist in distinct communities, some of which give +birth only to male, others to female individuals. The functions, also, are +divided,—certain members of the community being appointed to special +offices, in which the others do not share. Some bear the Medusae buds, which in +due time become laden with eggs, but, as I have said, wither and die after the +eggs are hatched. Others put forth Hydroid buds only, while others again are +wholly sterile. About the outskirts of the community are more simple +individuals, whose whole body seems to be hardly more than a double-walled +tube, terminating in a knob of lasso-cells. They are like long tentacles placed +where they can most easily seize the prey that happens to approach the little +colony. The entire community is connected at its base by a horny net-work, +uniting all the Hydroid stems in its meshes, and spreading over the whole +surface on which the colony has established itself.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image010.gif" +alt="Hydractinia polyclina: a, sterile individual; b, fertile individual, producing female Medusae; d, e, female Medusae, containing advanced eggs; f, g, h, i, Cluster of female Medusas, with less advanced eggs; o, peduncle of month, with short globular tentacles; c, individual with globular tentacles, upon which no Medusae have appeared, or from which they have dropped."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There is a very curious and beautiful animal, or rather +community of animals, closely allied to the <i>Hydractinia polyclina</i>, which +next deserves to be noticed. The Portuguese Man-of-War—so called from its +bright-colored crest, which makes it so conspicuous as it sails upon the water, +and the long and various streamers that hang from its lower side—is such +a community of animals as I have just described, reversed in position, however, +with the individuals hanging down, and the base swollen and expanded to make +the air-bladder which forms its brilliant crested float. In this curious Acalephian +Hydroid, or <i>Physalia</i>, the individuality of function is even more marked +than in the Hydractinia. As in the latter, some of the individuals are Medusae-bearing, +and others simple Hydrae; but, beside these, there are certain members of the +community who act as swimmers, to carry it along through the water,—others +that are its purveyors, catching the prey, by which, however, they profit only +indirectly, for others are appointed to eat it, and these feeders may be seen +sometimes actually gorged with the food they have devoured, and which is then +distributed throughout the community by the process of digestion and +circulation.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image011.gif" +alt="Physalia, or Portuguese Man-of-War."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It would be hopeless, even were it desirable, to attempt +within the limits of such an article as this to give the faintest idea of the +number and variety of these Hydroids; and I will therefore say nothing of the +endless host of Tubularians, Campanularians, Sertularians, etc. They are very +abundant along our coast, and will well reward any who care to study their +habits and their singular modes of growth. For their beauty, simply, it is +worth while to examine them. Some are deep red, others rosy, others purple, +others white with a glitter upon them, as if frosted with silver. Their homes +are very various. Some like the fresh, deep sea-water, while they avoid the +dash and tumult of the waves; and they establish themselves in the depressions +on some low ledge of rocks running far out from the shore, and yet left bare +for an hour or two, when the tide is out. In such a depression, forming a stony +cup filled with purest sea-water, overhung by a roof of rock, which may be +fringed by a heavy curtain of brown sea-weed, the rosy-headed, branching Eudendrium, +one of the prettiest of the Tubularians, may be found. Others like the tide-pools, +higher up on the rocks, that are freshened by the waves only when the tide is +full: such are the small, creeping Campanularians. Others, again, like the tiny +Dynamena, prefer the rougher action of the sea; and they settle upon the sides +of rents and fissures in the cliffs along the shore, where even in calm weather +the waves rush in and out with a certain degree of violence, broken into eddies +by the abrupt character of the rocks. Others seek the broad fronds of the +larger sea-weeds, and are lashed up and down upon their spreading branches, as +they rock to and fro with the motion of the sea. Many live in sheltered +harbors, attaching themselves to floating logs, or to the keels of vessels; and +some are even so indifferent to the freshness of the water that they may be +found in numbers along the city-wharves.<a href="#_edn4" name="_ednref4" +title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[4]</span></span></span></a></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Beside the Jelly-Fishes arising from Hydroids, there are +many others resembling these in all the essential features of their structure, +but differing in their mode of development; for, although more or less Polyp-like +when first born from the egg, they never become attached, nor do they ever bud +or divide, but reach their mature condition without any such striking +metamorphoses as those that characterize the development of the Hydroid Acalephs. +All the Medusas, whether they arise from buds on the Hydroid stock, like the Sarsia, +or from transverse division of the Hydroid form, like the Aurelia, or grow +directly from the egg to maturity, without pausing in the Hydroid phase, like +the <span lang=FR>Campanella</span>, agree in the general division and relation +of parts. All have a central cavity, from which arise radiating tubes extending +to the margin of the umbrella-like disk, where they unite either in a net-work +of meshes or in a single circular tube. But there is a great difference in the +oral apparatus; the elaborate ruffled curtains, that hang from the corners of +the mouth, occur only in the Species arising from the transverse division of +the Polyp-like young. For this reason they are divided into two Orders,—the +Hydroids and the Discophorae.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The third Order, the Ctenophorae, are +among the most beautiful of the Acalephs. I have spoken of the various hues +they assume when in motion, and I will add one word of the peculiarity in their +structure which causes this effect. The Ctenophorae differ from the Jelly-Fishes +described above in sending off from the main cavity only two main tubes, +instead of four like the others; but each of these tubes divides and subdivides +in four branches as it approaches the periphery. From the eight branches +produced in this way there arise vertical tubes extending in opposite +directions up and down the sides of the body. Along these vertical tubes run +the rows of little locomotive oars, or combs, as they have been called, from +which these animals derive their name of Ctenophorae. The rapid motion of these +flappers causes the decomposition of the rays of light along the surface of the +body, producing the most striking prismatic effect; and it is no exaggeration +to say that no jewel is brighter than these Ctenophorae as they move through +the water.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><img class=halfpage src="images/image012.gif" +alt="Idyia roseola; one of our Ctenophorae: a, anal aperture; b, radiating tube; c, circular tube; d, e, f, g, h, rows of locomotive fringes."></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I trust I have succeeded in showing that the three Orders of +the Acalephs are, like the five Orders of the Echinoderms, different degrees of +complication of the same structure. In the Hydroids, the organization does not +rise above the simple digestive cavity inclosed by the double body-wall; and we +might not suspect their relation to the Acalephs, did we not see the Jelly-Fish +born from the Hydroid stock. In the Hydroid-Medusae and Discophorae, instead of +a simple digestive sac, as in the Hydroids, we have a cavity sending off tubes +toward the periphery, which ramify more or less in their course. Now whether +there are four tubes or eight, whether they ramify extensively or not, whether +there are more or less complicated appendages around the margin or the mouth, +makes no difference in the essential structure of these bodies. They are all +disk-like in outline, they all have tentacles hanging from the margin, and a +central cavity from which tubes diverge that divide the body into a certain +number of portions, bearing in all the same relation to each other and to the +central cavity. In the Ctenophorae, another complication of structure is +introduced in the combination of vertical with horizontal tubes and the +external appendages accompanying them.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But, whatever their differences may be, a very slight effort +of the imagination only is needed to transform any one of these forms into any +other. Reverse the position of any simple Hydra, so that the tentacles hang +down from the margin, and let four tubes radiate from the central cavity to the +periphery, and we have the lowest form of Jelly-Fish. Expand the cup of the +Hydra to form a gelatinous disk, increase the number of tubes, complicate their +ramifications, let eyes be developed along the margin, add some external +appendages, and we have the Discophore. Elongate the disk in order to give the +body an oval form, diminish the number of main tubes, and let them give off +vertical as well as horizontal branches, and we have the Ctenophore.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In the Class of Polyps there are but two Orders,—the Actinoids +and the Halcyonoids; and I have already said so much of the structure of Polyps +that I think I need not repeat my remarks here in order to show the relation +between these groups. The body of all Polyps consists of a sac divided into +chambers by vertical partitions, and having a wreath of hollow tentacles around +the summit, each one of which opens into one of the chambers. The greater complication +of these parts and their limitation in definite numbers constitute the +characters upon which their superiority or inferiority of structure is based. +Here the comparison is easily made; it is simply the complication and number of +identical parts that make the difference between the Orders. The Actinoids +stand lowest from the simple character and indefinite increase of these parts; +while the Halcyonoids, with their eight lobed tentacles, corresponding to the +same number of internal divisions, are placed above them.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We have the key-note to the common structure of the three +Classes whose Orders we have been comparing in the name of the division to +which they all belong: they are <i>Radiates.</i> The idea of radiation lies at +the foundation of all these animals, whatever be their form or substance. +Whether stony, like the Corals, or soft, like the Sea-Anemone, or gelatinous +and transparent, like the Jelly-Fish, or hard and brittle, like the Sea-Urchins,—whether +round or oblong or cylindrical or stellate, in all, the internal structure +obeys this law of radiation.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Not only is this true in a general way, but the comparison +may be traced in all the details. One may ask how the narrow radiating tubes of +the Acalephs, traversing the gelatinous mass of the body, can be compared to +the wide radiating chambers of the Polyp; and yet nothing is more simple than +to thicken the partitions in the Polyps so much as to narrow the chambers +between them, till they form narrow alleys instead of wide spaces, and then we +have the tubes of the Jelly-Fish. In the Jelly-Fish there is a circular tube +around the margin into which all the radiating tubes open. What have we to +compare with this in the Polyps? The outer edge of each partition in the Polyp +is pierced by a hole near the margin. Of course when the partition is +thickened, this hole, remaining open, becomes a tube; for what is a tube but an +elongated hole? The comparison of the Acalephs with the Echinoderms is still +easier, for they both have tubes; but in the latter the tubes are inclosed in +walls of their own, instead of traversing the mass of the body, as in Acalephs, +etc.</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=Drama> * * * * *</p> + +<p class=Drama> </p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In preparing these articles on the homologies of Radiates, I +have felt the difficulty of divesting my subject of the technicalities which +cling to all scientific results, until they are woven into the tissue of our +every-day knowledge and assume the familiar garb of our common intellectual +property. When the forms of animals are as familiar to children as their A, B, C, +and the intelligent study of Natural History, from the objects themselves, and +not from text-books alone, is introduced into all our schools, we shall have +popular names for things that can now only be approached with a certain +professional stateliness on account of their technical nomenclature. The best +result of such familiarity with Nature will be the recognition of an +intellectual unity holding together all the various forms of life as parts of +one Creative Conception.</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section8> + +<p class=Chapter>GABRIEL'S DEFEAT.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In exploring among dusty files of newspapers for the true +records of Denmark Vesey and Nat Turner, I have caught occasional glimpses of a +plot perhaps more wide in its outlines than that of either, which has lain +obscure in the darkness of half a century, traceable only in the political +events which dated from it, and the utter incorrectness of the scanty +traditions which assumed to preserve it. And though researches in public +libraries have only proved to me how rapidly the materials for American history +are vanishing,—since not one of our great institutions possesses, for +instance, a file of any Southern newspaper of the year 1800,—yet the +little which I have gained may have an interest which makes it worth +preserving. I have never been able to see why American historians should be +driven to foreign lands for subjects, when our own nation has furnished +tyrannies more terrible than that of Philip of Spain, and heroes more silent +than William of Orange,—or why our novelists must seek themes in Italy, +on the theory avowed by one of the most gifted of their number, that this +country is given over to a "broad commonplace prosperity," and +harbors "no picturesque or gloomy wrong." But since, as the Spanish +proverb says, no man can at the same time ring the bells and walk in the +procession, so it has perhaps happened that those most qualified to record the +romance of slave-institutions have been thus far too busy in dealing with the +reality.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Three times, at intervals of thirty years, has a wave of +unutterable terror swept across the Old Dominion, bringing thoughts of agony to +every Virginian master, and of vague hope to every Virginian slave. Each time +has one man's name become a spell of dismay and a symbol of deliverance. Each +time has that name eclipsed its predecessor, while recalling it for a moment to +fresher memory: John Brown revived the story of Nat Turner, as in his day Nat +Turner recalled the vaster schemes of Gabriel.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>On September 8th, 1800, a Virginia correspondent wrote thus +to the Philadelphia "United States Gazette":—</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"For the week past, we have been under momentary +expectation of a rising among the negroes, who have assembled to the number of +nine hundred or a thousand, and threatened to massacre all the whites. They are +armed with desperate weapons, and secrete themselves in the woods. God only +knows our fate; we have strong guards every night under arms."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It was no wonder, if there were foundation for such rumors. Liberty +was the creed or the cant of the day. France was being rocked by revolution, +and England by Clarkson. In America, slavery was habitually recognized as a +misfortune and an error, only to be palliated by the nearness of its expected +end. How freely anti-slavery pamphlets had been circulated in Virginia we know +from the priceless volumes collected and annotated by Washington, and now +preserved in the Boston Athenaeum. Jefferson's "Notes on Virginia," +itself an anti-slavery tract, had passed through seven editions. Judge St. +George Tucker, law-professor in William and Mary College, had recently published +his noble work, "A Dissertation on Slavery, with a Proposal for the +Gradual Abolition of it in the State of Virginia." From all this agitation +a slave insurrection was a mere corollary. With so much electricity in the air, +a single flash of lightning foreboded all the terrors of the tempest. Let but a +single armed negro be seen or suspected, and at once on many a lonely +plantation there were trembling hands at work to bar doors and windows that +seldom had been even closed before, and there was shuddering when a gray +squirrel scrambled over the roof, or a shower of walnuts came down clattering +from the overhanging boughs.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Early in September, 1800, as a certain Mr. Moseley Sheppard, +of Henrico County in Virginia, was one day sitting in his counting-room, two +negroes knocked at the door and were let in. They shut the door themselves, and +began to unfold an insurrectionary plot, which was subsequently repeated by one +of them, named Ben Woodfolk or Woolfolk, in presence of the court, on the +fifteenth of the same month.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>He stated that about the first of the preceding June he had +been asked by a negro named Colonel George whether he would like to be made a +Mason. He refused; but George ultimately prevailed on him to have an interview +with a certain leading man among the blacks, named Gabriel. Arrived at the +place of meeting, he found many persons assembled, to whom a preliminary oath +was administered, that they would keep secret all which they might hear. The +leaders then began, to the dismay of this witness, to allude to a plan of +insurrection, which, as they stated, was already far advanced toward maturity. +Presently a man named Martin, Gabriel's brother, proposed religious services, +caused the company to be duly seated, and began an impassioned exposition of +Scripture, bearing upon the perilous theme. The Israelites were glowingly +portrayed as a type of successful resistance to tyranny; and it was argued, +that now, as then, God would stretch forth His arm to save, and would +strengthen a hundred to overthrow a thousand. Thus passed, the witness stated, +this preparatory meeting. At a subsequent gathering the affair was brought to a +point, and the only difficult question was, whether to rise in rebellion upon a +certain Saturday, or upon the Sunday following. Gabriel said that Saturday was +the day already fixed, and that it must not be altered; but George was for +changing it to Sunday, as being more convenient for the country negroes, who +could travel on that day without suspicion. Gabriel, however, said decisively +that they had enough to carry Richmond without them, and Saturday was therefore +retained as the momentous day.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This was the confession, so far as it is now accessible; and +on the strength of it Ben Woolfolk was promptly pardoned by the court for all +his sins, past, present, or to come, and they proceeded with their +investigation. Of Gabriel little appeared to be known, except that he had been +the property of Thomas Prosser, a young man who had recently inherited a +plantation a few miles from Richmond, and who had the reputation among his +neighbors of "behaving with great barbarity to his slaves." Gabriel +was, however, reported to be "a fellow of courage and intellect above his +rank in life,"—to be about twenty-five years of age,—and to be +guiltless of the alphabet.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Further inquiry made it appear that the preparations of the +insurgents were hardly adequate to any grand revolutionary design,—at +least, if they proposed to begin with open warfare. The commissariat may have +been well organized, for black Virginians are apt to have a prudent eye to the +larder; but the ordnance department and the treasury were as low as if +Secretary Floyd had been in charge of them. A slave called "Prosser's +Ben" testified that he went with Gabriel to see Ben Woolfolk, who was +going to Caroline County to enlist men, and that "Gabriel gave him three +shillings for himself and three other negroes, to be expended in recruiting +men." Their arms and ammunition, so far as reported, consisted of a peck +of bullets, ten pounds of powder, and twelve scythe-swords, made by Gabriel's +brother Solomon, and fitted with handles by Gabriel himself. "These +cutlasses," said subsequently a white eyewitness, "are made of +scythes cut in two and fixed into well-turned handles. I have never seen arms +so murderous. Those who still doubt the importance of the conspiracy which has +been so fortunately frustrated would shudder with horror at the sight of these +instruments of death." And as it presently appeared that a conspirator +named Scott had astonished his master by accidentally pulling ten dollars from +a ragged pocket which seemed inadequate to the custody of ten cents, it was +agreed that the plot might still be dangerous, even though the resources seemed +limited.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And indeed, as was soon discovered, the effective weapon of +the insurgents lay in the very audacity of their plan. The scheme, as it +existed in the mind of Gabriel, was as elaborate as that of Denmark Vesey, and +as thorough as that of Nat Turner. If the current statements of all the Virginia +letter-writers were true, "nothing could have been better contrived." +It was to have taken effect on the first day of September. The rendezvous for +the blacks was to be a brook six miles from Richmond. Eleven hundred men were +to assemble there, and were to be divided into three columns, their officers +having been designated in advance. All were to march on Richmond,—then a +town of eight thousand inhabitants,—under cover of night. The right wing +was instantly to seize upon the penitentiary building, just converted into an arsenal; +while the left wing was to take possession of the powder-house. These two +columns were to be armed chiefly with clubs, as their undertaking depended for +success upon surprise, and was expected to prevail without hard fighting. But +it was the central force, armed with muskets, cutlasses, knives, and pikes, +upon which the chief responsibility rested; these men were to enter the town at +both ends simultaneously, and begin a general <span lang=FR>carnage</span>, +none being excepted save the French inhabitants, who were supposed for some +reason to be friendly to the negroes. In a very few hours, it was thought, they +would have entire control of the metropolis. And that this hope was not in the +least unreasonable was shown by the subsequent confessions of weakness from the +whites. "They could scarcely have failed of success," wrote the +Richmond Correspondent of the Boston "Chronicle," "for, after +all, we could only muster four or five hundred men, of whom not more than +thirty had muskets."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>For the insurgents, if successful, the penitentiary held +several thousand stand of arms; the powder-house was well stocked; the capitol +contained the State treasury; the mills would give them bread; the control of +the bridge across James River would keep off enemies from beyond. Thus secured +and provided, they planned to issue proclamations summoning to their standard +"their fellow-negroes and the friends of humanity throughout the +continent." In a week, it was estimated, they would have fifty thousand +men on their side, with which force they could easily possess themselves of +other towns; and, indeed, a slave named John Scott—possibly the dangerous +possessor of the ten dollars—was already appointed to head the attack on +Petersburg. But in case of final failure, the project included a retreat to the +mountains, with their new-found property. John Brown was therefore anticipated +by Gabriel, sixty years before, in believing the Virginia mountains to have +been "created, from the foundation of the world, as a place of refuge for +fugitive slaves."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These are the statements of the contemporary witnesses; they +are repeated in many newspapers of the year 1800, and are in themselves clear +and consistent. Whether they are on the whole exaggerated or understated, it is +now impossible to say. It is certain that a Richmond paper of September 12th +(quoted in the "New York Gazette" of September 18th) declares that +"the plot has been entirely exploded, which was shallow; and had the +attempt been made to carry it into execution, but little resistance would have +been required to render the scheme entirely abortive." But it is necessary +to remember that this is no more than the Charleston newspapers said at the +very crisis of Denmark <span lang=FR>Vesey's</span> formidable plot. "Last +evening," wrote a lady from Charleston in 1822, "twenty-five hundred +of our citizens were under arms to guard our property and lives. But it is a +subject <i>not to be mentioned</i> [so underscored]; and unless you hear of it +elsewhere, say nothing about it." Thus it is always hard to know whether +to assume the facts of an insurrection as above or below the estimates. This +Virginian excitement also happened at a period of intense political agitation, +and was seized upon as a boon by the Federalists. The very article above quoted +is ironically headed, "Holy Insurrection," and takes its motto from Jefferson, +with profuse capital letters,—"The Spirit of the Master is abating, +that of the Slave rising from the dust, his condition mollifying."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In view of the political aspect thus given to the plot, and +of its ingenuity and thoroughness likewise, the Virginians were naturally +disposed to attribute to white men some share in it; and speculation presently +began to run wild. The newspapers were soon full of theories, no two being +alike, and no one credible. The plot originated, some said, in certain +handbills written by Jefferson's friend Callender, then in prison at Richmond +on a charge of sedition; these were circulated by two French negroes, aided by +a "United Irishman," calling himself a Methodist preacher,—and +it was in consideration of these services that no Frenchman was to be injured +by the slaves. When Gabriel was arrested, the editor of the "United States +Gazette" affected much diplomatic surprise that no letters were <i>yet</i> +found upon his person "from Fries, Gallatin, or Duane, nor was he at the +time of his capture accompanied by any United Irishman." "He, +however, acknowledges that there are others concerned, and that he is not the +principal instigator." All Federalists agreed that the Southern Democratic +talk was constructive insurrection,—which it certainly was,—and +they painted graphic pictures of noisy "Jacobins" over their wine, +and eager, dusky listeners behind their chairs. "It is evident that the +French principles of liberty and equality have been effused into the minds of +the negroes, and that the incautious and intemperate use of the words by some +whites among us have inspired them with hopes of success." "While the +fiery Hotspurs of the State vociferate their <i>French babble</i> of the +natural equality of man, the insulted negro will be constantly stimulated to +cast away his cords and to sharpen his pike." "It is, moreover, +believed, though not positively known, that a great many of our profligate and +abandoned whites (who are distinguished by the burlesque appellation of <i>Democrats</i>) +are implicated with the blacks, and would have joined them, if they had +commenced their operations.... The Jacobin printers and their friends are panic-struck. +Never was terror more strongly depicted in the countenances of men." These +extracts from three different Federalist newspapers show the amiable emotions +of that side of the house; while Democratic Duane, in the "Aurora," +could find no better repartee than to attribute the whole trouble to the policy +of the Administration in renewing commercial intercourse with San Domingo.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I have discovered in the Norfolk "Epitome of the +Times," for October 9, 1800, a remarkable epistle written from Richmond +jail by the unfortunate Callender himself. He indignantly denies the charges +against the Democrats, of complicity in dangerous plots, boldly retorting them +upon the Federalists. "An insurrection at this critical moment by the +negroes of the Southern States would have thrown everything into confusion, and +consequently it was to have prevented the choice of electors in the whole or +the greater part of the States to the south of the Potomac. Such a disaster +must have tended directly to injure the interests of Mr. Jefferson, and to +promote the slender possibility of a second election of Mr. Adams." And, +to be sure, the "United States Gazette" followed up the thing with a +good, single-minded party malice which cannot be surpassed in these present +days, ending in such altitudes of sublime coolness as the following:—"The +insurrection of the negroes in the Southern States, which appears to be +organized on the true French plan, must be decisive with every reflecting man +in those States of the election of Mr. Adams and General Pinckney. The military +skill and approved bravery of the General must be peculiarly valuable to his +countrymen at these trying moments." Let us have a military Vice-President, +by all means, to meet this formidable exigency of Gabriel's peck of bullets, +and this unexplained three shillings in the pocket of "Prosser's +Ben"!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But Gabriel's campaign failed, like that of the Federalists, +and the appointed day brought disasters more fatal than even the sword of +General Pinckney. The affrighted negroes declared that "the stars in their +courses fought against Sisera." The most furious tempest ever known in Virginia +burst upon the land that day, instead of an insurrection. Roads and plantations +were submerged. Bridges were carried away. The fords, which then, as now, were +the ordinary substitutes for bridges in that region, were rendered wholly +impassable. The Brook Swamp, one of the most important strategic points of the +insurgents, was entirely inundated, hopelessly dividing Prosser's farm from Richmond; +the country negroes could not get in, nor those from the city get out. The +thousand men dwindled to a few hundred,—and these half paralyzed by +superstition; there was nothing to do but to dismiss them, and before they +could reassemble they were betrayed.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>That the greatest alarm was instantly created throughout the +community, there is no question. All the city of Richmond was in arms, and in +all large towns of the State the night-patrol was doubled. It is a little +amusing to find it formally announced, that "the Governor, impressed with +the magnitude of the danger, has appointed for himself three Aides-de-camp." +A troop of United States cavalry was ordered to Richmond. Numerous arrests were +made. Men were convicted on one day and hanged on the next,—five, six, +ten, fifteen at a time, almost without evidence. Three hundred dollars were +offered by Governor Monroe for the arrest of Gabriel; as much more for another +chief named Jack Bowler, <i>alias</i> Ditcher; whereupon Bowler, <i>alias</i> +Ditcher, surrendered himself, but it took some weeks to get upon the track of +Gabriel. He was finally captured at Norfolk, on board a schooner just arrived +from Richmond, in whose hold he had concealed himself for eleven days, having +thrown overboard a bayonet and bludgeon, which were his only arms. Crowds of +people collected to see him, including many of his own color. He was arrested +on September 24th, convicted on October 3d, and executed on October 7th; and it +is known of him further only, that, like almost all leaders of slave +insurrections, he showed a courage which his enemies could not gainsay. +"When he was apprehended, he manifested the greatest marks of firmness and +confidence, showing not the least disposition to equivocate or screen himself +from justice,"—but making no confession that could implicate any one +else. "The behavior of Gabriel under his misfortunes," said the Norfolk +"Epitome" of September 25th, "was such as might be expected from +a mind capable of forming the daring project which he had conceived." The +"United States Gazette" for October 9th states, more sarcastically, +that "the General is said to have manifested the utmost composure, and +with the true spirit of heroism seems ready to resign his high office, and even +his life, rather than gratify the officious inquiries of the Governor."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Some of these newspapers suggest that the authorities found +it good policy to omit the statement made by Gabriel, whatever it was. At any +rate, he assured them that he was by no means the sole instigator of the +affair; he could name numbers, even in Norfolk, who were more deeply concerned. +To his brother Solomon he is said to have stated that the real head of the plot +was Jack Bowler. Still another leader was "General John Scott," +already mentioned, the slave of Mr. Greenhow, hired by Mr. McCrea. He was +captured by his employer in Norfolk, just as he was boldly entering a public +conveyance to escape; and the Baltimore "Telegraphe" declared that he +had a written paper directing him to apply to Alexander Biddenhurst or Weddenhurst +in Philadelphia, "corner of Coats Alley and Budd Street, who would supply +his needs." What became of this military individual, or of his Philadelphia +sympathizers, does not appear. But it was noticed, as usually happens in such cases, +that all the insurgents had previously passed for saints. "It consists +within my knowledge," says one letter-writer, "that many of these +wretches who were or would have been partakers in the plot have been treated +with the utmost tenderness by their masters, and were more like children than +slaves."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These appear to be all the details now accessible of this +once famous plot. They were not very freely published even at the time. +"The minutiae of the conspiracy have not been detailed to the +public," said the "Salem Gazette" of October 7th, "and, +perhaps, through a mistaken notion of prudence and policy, will not be +detailed, in the Richmond papers." The New York "Commercial +Advertiser" of October 13th was still more explicit. "The trials of +the negroes concerned in the late insurrection are suspended until the opinions +of the Legislature can be had on the subject. This measure is said to be owing +to the immense numbers who are interested in the plot, whose death, should they +all be found guilty and be executed, will nearly produce the annihilation of +the blacks in this part of the country." And in the next issue of the same +journal a Richmond correspondent makes a similar statement, with the following +addition:—</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"A conditional amnesty is perhaps expected. At the +next session of the Legislature [of Virginia] they took into consideration the +subject referred to them, in secret session, with closed doors. The whole +result of their deliberations has never yet been made public, as the injunction +of secrecy has never been removed. To satisfy the court, the public, and +themselves, they had a task so difficult to perform, that it is not surprising +that their deliberations were in secret."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is a matter of historical interest to know that in these +mysterious sessions lay the germs of the American Colonization Society. A +correspondence was at once secretly commenced between the Governor of Virginia +and the President of the United States, with a view to securing a grant of land +whither troublesome slaves might be banished. Nothing came of it then; but in +1801, 1802, and 1804, these attempts were renewed. And finally, on January 22d, +1805, the following vote was passed, still in secret session:—"<i>Resolved</i>, +that the Senators of this State in the Congress of the United States be +instructed, and the Representatives be requested, to use their best efforts for +the obtaining from the General Government a competent portion of territory in +the State of Louisiana, to be appropriated to the residence of such people of +color as have been or shall be emancipated, or hereafter may become dangerous +to the public safety," etc. But of all these efforts nothing was known +till their record was accidentally discovered by Charles Fenton Mercer in 1816. +He at once brought the matter to light, and moved a similar resolution in the +Virginia Legislature; it was almost unanimously adopted, and the first formal +meeting of the Colonization Society, in 1817, was called "in aid" of +this Virginia movement. But the whole correspondence was never made public +until the Nat-Turner insurrection of 1831 recalled the previous excitement, and +these papers were demanded by Mr. Summers, a member of the Legislature, who +described them as "having originated in a convulsion similar to that which +had recently, but more terribly, occurred."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But neither these subsequent papers, nor any documents which +now appear accessible, can supply any authentic or trustworthy evidence as to +the real extent of the earlier plot. It certainly was not confined to the mere +environs of Richmond. The Norfolk "Epitome" of October 6th states +that on the sixth and seventh of the previous month one hundred and fifty +blacks, including twenty from Norfolk, were assembled near Whitlock's Mills in +Suffolk County, and remained in the neighborhood till the failure of the +Richmond plan became known. Petersburg newspapers also had letters containing +similar tales. Then the alarm spread more widely. Near Edenton, N.C., there was +undoubtedly a real insurrection, though promptly suppressed; and many families +ultimately removed from that vicinity in consequence. In Charleston, S.C., +there was still greater excitement, if the contemporary press may be trusted; +it was reported that the freeholders had been summoned to appear in arms, on +penalty of a fine of fifteen pounds, which many preferred to pay rather than +risk taking the fever which then prevailed. These reports were, however, +zealously contradicted in letters from Charleston, dated October 8th, and the Charleston +newspapers up to September 17th had certainly contained no reference to any +especial excitement. This alone might not settle the fact, for reasons already +given. But the omission of any such affair from the valuable pamphlet +containing reminiscences of insurrections in South Carolina, published in 1822 +by Edwin C. Holland, is presumptive evidence that no very extended agitation +occurred.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But wherever there was a black population, slave or +emancipated, men's startled consciences made cowards of them all, and +recognized the negro as a dangerous man, because an injured one. In Philadelphia +it was seriously proposed to prohibit the use of sky-rockets for a time, +because they had been employed as signals in San Domingo. "Even in Boston," +said the New York "Daily Advertiser" of September 20th, "fears +are expressed, and measures of prevention adopted." This probably refers +to a singular advertisement which appeared in some of the Boston newspapers on +September 16th, and runs as follows:—</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"NOTICE TO BLACKS.</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"The officers of the police having made returns to the +subscriber of the names of the following persons who are Africans or negroes, +not subjects of the Emperor of Morocco nor citizens of any of the United +States, the same are hereby warned and directed to depart out of this +Commonwealth before the tenth day of October next, as they would avoid the +pains and penalties of the law in that case provided, which was passed by the +Legislature March 26, 1788.</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"CHARLES BULFINCH,</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"Superintendent.</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"By order and direction of the Selectmen."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The names annexed are about three hundred, with the places +of their supposed origin, and they occupy a column of the paper. So at least +asserts the "United States Gazette" of September 23d. "It seems +probable," adds the editor, "from the nature of the notice, that some +suspicion of the design of the negroes is entertained, and we regret to say +there is too much cause." The law of 1788 above mentioned was "an act +for suppressing rogues, vagabonds, and the like," which forbade all +persons of African descent, unless citizens of some one of the United States or +subjects of the Emperor of Morocco, from remaining more than two months within +the Commonwealth, on penalty of imprisonment and hard labor. This singular +statute remained unrepealed until 1834.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Amid the general harmony in the contemporary narratives of +Gabriel's insurrection, it would be improper to pass by one exceptional legend, +which by some singular fatality has obtained more circulation than all the true +accounts put together. I can trace it no farther back than Nat Turner's time, +when it was published in the Albany "Evening Journal"; thence +transferred to the "Liberator" of September 17th, 1831, and many other newspapers; then refuted in detail by the "Richmond Enquirer" of +October 21st; then resuscitated in the John-Brown epoch by the Philadelphia +"Press," and extensively copied. It is fresh, spirited, and full of +graphic and interesting details, nearly every one of which is altogether false.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Gabriel in this narrative becomes a rather mythical being, +of vast abilities and life-long preparations. He bought his freedom, it is +stated, at the age of twenty-one, and then <span lang=EN-GB>travelled</span> +all over the Southern States, enlisting confederates and forming stores of +arms. At length his plot was discovered, in consequence of three negroes' +having been seen riding out of a stable-yard together; and the Governor offered +a reward of ten thousand dollars for further information, to which a Richmond +gentleman added as much more. Gabriel concealed himself on board the Sally Ann, +a vessel just sailing for San Domingo, and was revealed by his little nephew, +whom he had sent for a jug of rum. Finally the narrative puts an eloquent dying +speech into Gabriel's mouth, and, to give a properly tragic consummation, +causes him to be torn to death by four wild horses. The last item is, however, +omitted in the more recent reprints of the story.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Every one of these statements appears to be absolutely erroneous. +Gabriel lived and died a slave, and was probably never out of Virginia. His +plot was voluntarily revealed by accomplices. The rewards offered for his +arrest amounted to three hundred dollars only. He concealed himself on board +the schooner Mary, bound to Norfolk, and was discovered by the police. He died +on the gallows, with ten associates, having made no address to the court or the +people. All the errors of the statement were contradicted when it was first +made public, but they have proved very hard to kill.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is stated at the close of this newspaper romance,—and +it may nevertheless be true,—that these events were embodied in a song +bearing the same title with this essay, "Gabriel's Defeat," and set +to a tune of the same name, both being composed by a colored man. The reporter +claims to have heard it in Virginia, as a favorite air at the dances of the +white people, as well as in the huts of the slaves. It would certainly be one +of history's strange parallelisms, if this fatal enterprise, like that of John +Brown afterwards, should thus triumphantly have embalmed itself in music. But I +have found no other trace of such a piece of border-minstrelsy, and it is +probable that even this plaintive memorial has at length disappeared.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Yet, twenty-two years after these events their impression +still remained vivid enough for Benjamin Lundy, in Tennessee, to write,—"So +well had they matured their plot, and so completely had they organized their +system of operations, that nothing but a seemingly miraculous intervention of +the arm of Providence was supposed to have been capable of saving the city from +pillage and flames, and the inhabitants thereof from butchery. So dreadful was +the alarm and so great the consternation produced on this occasion, that a +member of Congress from that State was some time after heard to express himself +in his place as follows: 'The night-bell is never heard to toll in the city of +Richmond but the anxious mother presses her infant more closely to her +bosom.'" The Congressman was John Randolph of Roanoke, and it was Gabriel +who had taught him the lesson.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And longer than the melancholy life of that wayward +statesman,—down even to the beginning of the present civil war, and +perhaps to this very moment,—there lingered in Richmond a memorial of those +days, most peculiar and most instructive. Before the days of Secession, when +the Northern <span lang=EN-GB>traveller</span> in Virginia, after traversing +for weary leagues its miry ways, its desolate fields, and its flowery forests, +rode at last into its metropolis,—now slowly expanded into a city of +twenty-eight thousand inhabitants,—he was sure to be guided erelong to +visit its stately Capitol, <span lang=EN-GB>modelled</span> by Jefferson, when +French minister, from the <span lang=FR>Maison</span><span lang=FR> </span><span +lang=FR>Carrée</span>. Standing before it, he might admire undisturbed the +Grecian outline of its exterior, or criticize at will the unsightly cheapness +of its stucco imitations; but he found himself forbidden to enter, save by +passing an armed and uniformed sentinel at the door-way. No other State of the Union +has thus found it necessary in time of profoundest quiet to protect its State-House +by a permanent cordon of bayonets; indeed, the Constitution expressly prohibits +to any State a standing army, however small. Yet there for sixty years has +stood sentinel the "Public Guard" of Virginia, wearing the suicidal +motto of that decaying Commonwealth, "<i>Sic </i><i><span lang=FR>semper</span><span +lang=FR> </span>Tyrannis</i>"; and when one asked the origin of the +precaution, one learned that it was the lasting memorial of Gabriel's +insurrection, the stern heritage of terror bequeathed by his defeat.</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section9> + +<p class=Chapter>BETHEL.</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>We mustered at midnight, in darkness we formed,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the whisper went round of a fort to be stormed;</p> + +<p class=Poem>But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we heard,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And no voice of command, but our Colonel's low word,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And out, through the mist and the murk of the morn,</p> + +<p class=Poem>From the beaches of Hampton our barges were <span lang=FR>borne</span>;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And we heard not a sound, save the sweep of the oar,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Till the word of our Colonel came up from the shore,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>With hearts bounding bravely, and eyes all alight,</p> + +<p class=Poem>As ye dance to soft music, so trod we, that night;</p> + +<p class=Poem>Through the aisles of the greenwood, with vines overarched,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Tossing dew-drops, like gems, from our feet, as we marched,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>As ye dance with the damsels, to viol and flute,</p> + +<p class=Poem>So we skipped from the shadows, and mocked their pursuit;</p> + +<p class=Poem>But the soft zephyrs chased us, with scents of the morn,</p> + +<p class=Poem>As we passed by the hay-fields and green waving corn,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>For the leaves were all laden with fragrance of June,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the flowers and the foliage with sweets were in tune;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the air was so calm, and the forest so dumb,</p> + +<p class=Poem>That we heard our own heart-beats, like taps of a drum,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Till the lull of the lowlands was stirred by a breeze,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the buskins of Morn brushed the tops of the trees,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the glintings of glory that slid from her track</p> + +<p class=Poem>By the sheen of our rifles were gayly flung back,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And the woodlands grew purple with sunshiny mist,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the blue-crested hill-tops with rose-light were kissed,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the earth gave her prayers to the sun in perfumes,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Till we marched as through gardens, and trampled on blooms,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Ay! trampled on blossoms, and seared the sweet breath</p> + +<p class=Poem>Of the greenwood with low-brooding vapors of death;</p> + +<p class=Poem>O'er the flowers and the corn we were <span lang=FR>borne</span> +like a blast,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And away to the fore-front of battle we passed,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>For the cannon's hoarse thunder roared out from the +glades,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the sun was like lightning on banners and blades,</p> + +<p class=Poem>When the long line of chanting <span lang=FR>Zouaves</span>, like +a flood,</p> + +<p class=Poem>From the green of the woodlands rolled, crimson as blood,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>While the sound of their song, like the surge of the +seas,</p> + +<p class=Poem>With the "Star-Spangled Banner" swelled over the leas;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the sword of DURYEA, like a torch, led the way,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Bearing down on the batteries of Bethel, that day,—<a +href="#_edn5" name="_ednref5" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Courier New"'>[5]</span></span></span></a></p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Through green-<span lang=EN-GB>tasselled</span> +cornfields our columns were thrown,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And like corn by the red scythe of fire we were mown;</p> + +<p class=Poem>While the cannon's fierce <span lang=EN-GB>ploughings</span> new-furrowed +the plain,</p> + +<p class=Poem>That our blood might be planted for LIBERTY'S grain,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Oh! the fields of fair June have no lack of sweet +flowers,</p> + +<p class=Poem>But their rarest and best breathe no fragrance like ours;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the sunshine of June, sprinkling gold on the corn,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Hath no harvest that ripeneth like BETHEL'S red morn,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>When our heroes, like bridegrooms, with lips and with +breath,</p> + +<p class=Poem>Drank the first kiss of Danger and clasped her in death;</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the heart of brave WINTHROP grew mute, with his lyre,</p> + +<p class=Poem>When the plumes of his genius lay <span lang=EN-GB>moulting</span> +in fire,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>Where he fell shall be sunshine as bright as his name,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the grass where he slept shall be green as his fame;</p> + +<p class=Poem>For the gold of the Pen and the steel of the Sword</p> + +<p class=Poem>Write his deeds—in his blood—on the land he adored,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>And the soul of our comrade shall sweeten the air,</p> + +<p class=Poem>And the flowers and the grass-blades his memory upbear;</p> + +<p class=Poem>While the breath of his genius, like music in leaves,</p> + +<p class=Poem>With the corn-tassels whispers, and sings in the sheaves,—</p> + +<p class=Poemspecial1>"Column! Forward!"</p> + +</div> + +<div class=Section10> + +<p class=Chapter>THE HORRORS OF SAN DOMINGO.</p> + +<p class=ChapterDescription>CHAPTER IV.</p> + +<p class=ChapterDescription>THE BUCCANEERS—<span lang=FR>FLIBUSTIERS</span>—<span + lang=ES-TRAD>TORTUGA</span>—SETTLEMENT OF THE WESTERN PART OF SAN +DOMINGO BY THE FRENCH.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Peaceable voyagers in the West Indies were much astonished +at their first sight of certain men, who might have been a new species of +native, generated with slight advances upon the old stock by the principle of +selection, or spontaneous growths of a soil well guanoed by ferocity. They +sported the scarlet suit of the Carib, but of a dye less innocent, as if the +fated islands imparted this color to the men who preyed upon them. A cotton +shirt hung on their shoulders, and a pair of cotton drawers struggled vainly to +cover their thighs: you had to look very closely to pronounce upon the +material, it was so stained with blood and fat. Their bronzed faces and thick +necks were hirsute, as if overgrown with moss, tangled or crispy. Their feet +were tied up in the raw hides of hogs or beeves just slaughtered, from which +they also frequently extemporized drawers, cut while reeking, and left to +stiffen to the shape of the legs. A heavy-stocked musket, made at Dieppe or Nantes, +with a barrel four and a half feet long, and carrying sixteen balls to the +pound,<a href="#_edn6" name="_ednref6" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[6]</span></span></span></a> +lay over the shoulder, a calabash full of powder, with a wax stopper, was slung +behind, and a belt of crocodile's skin, with four knives and a bayonet, went +round the waist. These individuals, if the term is applicable to the phenomena +in question, were Buccaneers.<a href="#_edn7" name="_ednref7" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[7]</span></span></span></a></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The name is derived from the arrangements which the Caribs +made to cook their prisoners of war. After being dismembered, their pieces were +placed upon wooden gridirons, which were called in Carib, <i><span +lang=ES-TRAD>barbacoa</span></i>. It will please our Southern brethren to +recognize a congenial origin for their favorite barbecue. The place where these +grilling hurdles were set up was called <span lang=FR>boucan</span>, and the +method of roasting and smoking, <i><span lang=FR>boucaner</span></i>. The +Buccaneers were men of many nations, who hunted the wild cattle, which had +increased prodigiously from the original Spanish stock; after taking off the +hide, they served the flesh as the Caribs served their captives. There appears +to have been a division of employment among them; for some hunted beeves merely +for the hide, and others hunted the wild hogs to salt and sell their flesh. But +their habits and appearance were the same. The beef-hunters had many dogs, of +the old mastiff-breed imported from Spain, to assist in running down their game, +with one or two hounds in each pack, who were taught to announce and follow up +a trail.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The origin of these men, called Buccaneers, can be traced to +a few Norman-French who were driven out of St. <span lang=FR>Christophe</span>, +in 1630, by the Spaniards. This island was settled jointly, but by an +accidental coincidence, by French and English, in 1625. They lived tranquilly +together for five years: the hunting of Caribs, who disputed their title to the +soil, being a bond of union between them which was stronger than national +prejudice. But the Spanish power became jealous of this encroachment among the +islands, which it affected to own by virtue of Papal dispensation. Though Spain +did not care to occupy it, Cuba and the Main being too engrossing, she +determined that no other power should do so. She therefore took advantage of +disturbances which arose there, in consequence, the French writers affirm, of +the perfidious ambition of Albion, and chased both parties out of the island. +The French soon recovered possession of it, which they solely held in future; +but many exiles never returned, preferring to woo Fortune in company with the +French and English adventurers who swarmed in those seas, having withdrawn, for +sufficient reasons, from civilized society before a graceful retreat became +impossible. This medley of people settled at first upon the northern and +western coasts of San Domingo,—the latter being as yet unoccupied. A few +settlements of Spaniards upon the northern coast, which suffered from their +national antipathies and had endeavored to root them out, were quickly broken +up by them. The Dutch, of course, were friendly, and promised to supply them +with necessaries in payment for hides, lard, and meat, <i><span lang=FR>boucané</span></i>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Their favorite haunt was the little island <span + lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span>,<a href="#_edn8" name="_ednref8" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[8]</span></span></span></a> +so named, some say, from its resemblance to a turtle afloat, and others, from +the abundance of that "green and glutinous" delight of aldermen. It +is only two or three leagues distant from the northern coast of San Domingo, +off the mouth of <span lang=FR>Trois</span><span lang=FR> </span><span lang=FR>Rivières</span>. +Its northern side is inaccessible: a boat cannot find a nook or cove into which +it may slip for landing or shelter. But there is one harbor upon the southern +side, and the Buccaneers took possession of this, and gradually fortified it to +make a place tenable against the anticipated assaults of the Spaniards. The +soil was thin, but it nourished great trees which seemed to grow from the +rocks; water was scarce; the hogs were numerous, smaller and more delicate than +those of San Domingo; the sugar-cane flourished; and tobacco of superior +quality could be raised. About five-and-twenty Spaniards held the harbor when +these adventurers approached to take possession. There were, besides, a few +other rovers like themselves, whom the new community adopted. The Spaniards +made no resistance, and were suffered to retire.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There was cordial fellowship between the <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> +and Buccaneers, for they were all outlaws, without a country, with few national +predilections,—men who could not live at home except at the risk of +apprehension for vagrancy or crime,—men who ran away in search of +adventure when the public ear was ringing with the marvels and riches of the +Indies, and when a multitude of sins could be covered by judicious preying. The +Spaniards were the victims of this floating and roving St. Giles of the +seventeenth century. If England or France went to war with Spain, these +freebooters obtained commissions, and their pillaging grew honorable; but it +did not subside with the conclusion of a peace. They followed their own policy +of lust and avarice, over regions too far from the main history of the times to +be controlled.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The word <i><span lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i> is derived +from the Dutch <i>Vlieboot</i>, fly-boat, swift boat, a kind of small craft +whose sailing qualities were superior to those of the other vessels then in +vogue. It is possible that the English made freebooter<a href="#_edn9" +name="_ednref9" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[9]</span></span></span></a> +out of the French adaptation. The fly-boat was originally only a long, light pinnace<a +href="#_edn10" name="_ednref10" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[10]</span></span></span></a> +or cutter with oars, fitted also to carry sail; we often find the word used by +the French writers to designate vessels which brought important intelligence. +They were favorite craft with the <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i>, not +from their swiftness alone, but from their ease of management, and capacity to +run up the creeks and river-openings, and to <span lang=FR>lie</span> +concealed. From these they boarded the larger vessels, to plunder or to use +them for prolonged freebooting expeditions. The <i><span lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i>, +then, was a sea-hunter or pirate, as the Buccaneer was a land-hunter, but ready +also for pillaging expeditions, in which they coöperated. And their pursuits +were interchangeable: the Buccaneer sometimes went to sea, and the <i><span +lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i>, in times of marine scarcity, would don the hog-skin +breeches, and run down cows or hunt fugitive negroes with packs of dogs. The +Buccaneers, however, slowly acquired a tendency to settle, while the <i><span +lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> preferred to keep the seas, till Europe began to +look them up too sharply; so that the former became, eventually, the +agricultural nucleus of the western part of San Domingo, when the supply of +wild cattle began to fail. This failure happened partly in consequence of their +own extravagant hunting-habits, and partly through the agency of the Spaniards +of the eastern colony, who thought that by slaughtering the cattle their French +neighbors would be driven, for lack of employment, from the soil.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Buccaneers generally went to the chase in couples, +attended by their dogs and <i><span lang=FR>Engagés</span></i>. These hired or <i>engaged</i> +men first appear in the history of the island as valets of the Buccaneers. But, +in their case, misfortune rather than vice was the reason of their appearance +in such doubtful companionship. They were often sold for debt or inability to +pay a rent, as happened in Scotland even during the eighteenth century; they +were deluded to take ship by the flaming promises which the captains of vessels +issued in the ports of different countries, to recruit their crews, or with the +wickeder purpose of kidnapping simple rustics and hangers-on of cities; they +sometimes came to a vessel's side in poverty, and sold their liberty for three +years for the sake of a passage to the fabled Ind; press-gangs sometimes stole +and smuggled them aboard of vessels just ready to sail; very young people were +induced to come aboard,—indeed, one or two cases happened in France, +where a schoolmaster and his flock, who were out for a walk, were cajoled by +these purveyors of avaricious navigators, and actually carried away from the +country. There was, besides, a regular method of supplying the French colonies +in the different islands with voluntary <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i>, +who agreed to serve for three years at certain wages, with liberty and a small +allotment of land at the expiration of the time. These were called "thirty-six +months' men." Sometimes their regular indenture was respected, and +sometimes violently set aside to make the signers virtually slaves. This was +done occasionally by the French in imitation of the English. A number of <i><span +lang=FR>engagés</span></i> at St. <span lang=FR>Christophe</span>, finding that +they were not set at liberty at the expiration of their three years, and that +their masters intended to hold them two years more, assembled tumultuously, and +threatened to attack the colony. This was in 1632. Their masters were not in +sufficient force to carry out their plan, and the Governor was obliged to set +at liberty all who had served their time. In 1719, the French Council of State +decreed, in consequence of the scarcity of <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i>, +that all vagabonds and criminals sentenced to the galleys should be transported +for colonial service; and in order to diminish the expense of shipping them, +every vessel leaving France for the Antilles was compelled to carry three <i><span +lang=FR>engagés</span></i> free of expense.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The amount of misery created by these various methods of +supplying the islands with human labor cannot be computed. The victims were +very humble; the manner of their taking-off was rarely noticed; the spirit of +the age never stooped to consider these trifles of sorrow, nor to protect by +some legislation the unfortunates who suffered in remote islands, whence their +cries seldom reached the ears of authority. It would have been surprising, if +many of these <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i> had not assumed the habits of +their masters, and kept the wandering hordes by land and sea recruited. Some of +the most famous Buccaneers—for that name popularly included also the <i><span +lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i>—were originally thirty-six months' men who +had daring and conduct enough to make the best of their enforced condition.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i> were in all +respects treated as slaves, especially when bound to agricultural service. +Their master left them to the mercies of an overseer, who whistled them up at +daybreak for wood-cutting or labor in the tobacco-fields, and went about among +them with a stout stick, which he used freely to bring the lagging up to their +work. Many cruelties are related of these men, but they are of the ordinary +kind to be found in the annals of all slave-holding countries. The fact that +the <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i> were indentured only for three years +made no difference with men whose sole object was to use up every available +resource in the pursuit of wealth. Bad treatment, chagrin, and scurvy destroyed +many of them. The French writers accused the English of treating their <i><span +lang=FR>engagés</span></i> worse than any other nation, as they retained them +for seven years, at the end of which time they gave them money enough to +procure a lengthened debauch, during which they generally signed away their +liberty for seven more years. Oexmelin says that Cromwell sold more than ten +thousand Scotch and Irish, destined for Barbadoes. A whole ship-load of these +escaped, but perished miserably of famine near Cape Tiburon, at a place which +was afterwards called <i>L'Anse aux Ibernois</i>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The first <i><span lang=FR>engagés</span></i> were brought +by the French from Dieppe: they signed contracts before notaries previously to +quitting the country. This class of laborers was eagerly sought by all the +colonists of the West Indies, and a good many vessels of different nations were +employed in the trade. There was in Brazil a system of letting out land to be +worked, called a <i><span lang=ES-TRAD>labrados</span></i>,<a href="#_edn11" +name="_ednref11" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[11]</span></span></span></a> +because a manager held the land from a proprietor for a certain share of the +profits, and cultivated it by laborers procurable in various ways. The name of Labrador +is derived by some writers from the stealing of natives upon our northern coast +by the Portuguese, to be enslaved. It is certain that they did this as early as +1501,<a href="#_edn12" name="_ednref12" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[12]</span></span></span></a> +and named the coast afterwards <i>Terra de Laborador</i>.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Buccaneers, hunting in couples, called each other <i><span +lang=FR>matelot</span></i>, or shipmate: the word expresses their amphibious +capacity. When a bull was run down by the dogs, the hunter, almost as fleet of +foot as they, ran in to hamstring him, if possible,—if not, to shoot him. +A certain mulatto became glorious in buccaneering annals for running down his game: +out of a hundred hides which he sent to France, ten only were pierced with +bullet-holes. When the animal was stripped of its skin, the large bones were +drawn from the flesh for the sake of the marrow, of which the two <i><span +lang=FR>matelots</span></i> made their stout repast. Portions of the flesh were +then <i><span lang=FR>boucané</span></i> by the followers, the rest was left to +dogs and birds, and the chase was pursued day by day till a sufficient number +of hides were collected. These were transported to the little coves and landing +places, where they were exchanged for powder and shot, spirits and silver. Then +a grand debauch at <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> followed, with the wildest +gratification of every passion. Comrades <span lang=EN-GB>quarrelled</span> and +sought each other's blood; their pleasure ran <i>amôk</i> like a mad Malay. +When wine was all drunk and the money gamed away, another expedition, with +fresh air and beef-marrow, set these independent bankrupts again to rights.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> had an +inexpensive way of furnishing themselves with vessels for prosecuting their +piratical operations. A dozen of them in a boat would hang about the mouth of a +river, or in the vicinity of a Spanish port, enduring the greatest privations +with constancy, till they saw a vessel which had good sailing qualities and a fair +equipment. If they could not surprise it, they would run down to board it +regardless of its fire, and swarm up the side and over the decks in a perfect +fury, which nothing could resist, driving the crew into the sea. These +expeditions were always prefaced by religious observances. On this point they +were very strict; even before each meal, the Catholics chanted the Canticle of Zacharias, +the <span lang=FR>Magnificat</span>, and the Miserere, and the Protestants of +all nations read a chapter of the Bible and sang a psalm. For many a Huguenot +was in these seas, revenging upon mankind its capability to perpetrate, in the +name of religion, a St. Bartholomew's.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Captain Daniel was a <i><span lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i> +with religious tendencies. Finding himself out of poultry, as he lay between +Les <span lang=FR>Saintes</span> and Dominica, (1701,) he approached the former +island by night, landed and carried off the <i><span lang=FR>curé</span></i> +and some of the principal inhabitants. These were not the fowls he wanted, but +rather decoys to the fattest poultry-yards. The account of his exquisite mingling +of business and religion gives us a glimpse into the interior of flibustierism. +We translate from Father <span lang=FR>Labat</span>, who had the story from the +astonished <i><span lang=FR>curé</span></i>. They were very polite to them, he +says, "and while the people were bringing in the provisions, they begged +the <i><span lang=FR>curé</span></i> to say mass in their vessel, which he did +not care to refuse. They sent on shore for the proper accessories, and set up a +tent on the quarter-deck, furnished with an altar, to celebrate the mass, which +they chanted zealously with the inhabitants who were on board. It was commenced +by a discharge of musketry, and of eight pieces of cannon with which their bark +was armed. They made a second discharge at the Sanctus, a third at the +Elevation, and a fourth at the Benediction, and, finally, a fifth after the Exaudiat +and the prayer for the King, which was followed by a ringing <i>Vive le </i><i><span +lang=FR>Roi</span></i>. Only one slight incident disturbed a little our +devotions. One of the <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i>, taking an +indecent posture during the Elevation, was reprimanded by Captain Daniel. +Instead of correcting himself, he made some impertinent answer, accompanied +with an execrable oath, which was paid on the spot by the Captain, who pistolled +him in the head, swearing before God that he would do the same to the first man +who failed in respect for the Holy Sacrifice. The <i><span lang=FR>curé</span></i> +was a little flustered, as it happened very close to him. But Daniel said to +him, 'Don't be troubled, father; 't was a rascal whom I had to punish to teach +his duty': a very efficacious way to prevent the recurrence of a similar fault. +After mass, they threw the body into the sea, and paid the holy father +handsomely for his trouble and his fright. They gave him some valuable clothes, +and as they knew that he was destitute of a negro, they made him a present of one,"—"which," +says Father <span lang=FR>Labat</span>, "I received an order to reclaim, +the original owner having made a demand for him."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Such was Captain Daniel's rubricated copy of the Buccaneers' +<i>Λειτονργία</i>. +One may judge from this what the early condition of religion must have been in +the French colony of San Domingo, which sprang from these pirates of the land +and sea. And it seems that their reverence for the observances diminished in an +inverse proportion to their perils. Father <span lang=FR>Labat</span> said mass +in the little town of Cap <span lang=FR>Français</span>, in 1701. The chapel +was not much better than an <i><span lang=FR>ajoupa</span></i>, that is, a four-posted +square with a sloping roof of leaves or light boards. The aisle had half a foot +of dust in the dry season, and the same depth of mud during rain. "I asked +the sacristan, who also filled the office of chanter, if he should chant the +Introit, or begin simply with the <span lang=FR>Kyrie</span><span lang=FR> </span>Eleïson; +but he replied that it was not their custom to chant a great deal, they were +content with low mass, brief, and well hurried up, and never chanted except at +funerals. However, I did not omit to bless the water and asperse the people; +and as I thought that the solemnity of the day demanded a little preaching, I +preached, and gave notice that I should say mass on the following day." +This he did, but was infinitely scandalized at the behavior of the people, +comparing it with that of the thorough-going Catholics of the other French +islands. "They came into the chapel as to an assembly, or to some profane +spectacle; they talked, laughed, and joked. The people in the gallery talked +louder than I did, and mingled the name of God in their discourse in an +insufferable manner. I mildly remonstrated with them three or four times; but +seeing that it had no effect, I spoke in a way that compelled some officers to +impose silence. A well-behaved person had the goodness to inform me, after +mass, that it was necessary to be rather more indulgent with the <i>People of +the Coast</i>, if one wanted to live with them." This was an old euphemism +for <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i>. The good father could expect +nothing better, especially as so many of his audience may have been Calvinists, +for the first habitant at Cap <span lang=FR>Français</span> was of that sect. +These men were trying to become settled; and the alternative was between rapine +with religion and raising crops without it. The latter became the habitude of +the island; for the descendants of the Buccaneers could afford the luxury of +absolute sincerity, which even their hardy progenitors were too weak to seize.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In the other Islands, however, the priest had the colonists +well in hand, as may be understood from the lofty language which he could +assume towards petty sacramental infractions. At St. Croix, for instance, three +light fellows made a mock of Sunday and the mass, saying, "We go a-fishing," +and tried to persuade some neighbors to accompany them.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"No; 't is Trinity Sunday, and we shall go to +mass."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"And will the Trinity help you to your dinner? Come, +mass will keep for another time."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The decent neighbors refusing, these three unfortunate men +departed, and were permitted by an inscrutable Providence to catch a great +number of little fishes, which they shared with their conforming neighbors. All +ate of them, but with this difference, that the three anti-sabbatarians fell +sick, and died in twenty-four hours, while the others experienced no injury. +The effect of this gastric warning is somewhat weakened by the incautious +statement of the narrative, that a priest, who ran from one dying man to +another, became overheated, and contracted a fatal illness.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Catholic profession brought no immunity to the Spanish +navigators. Our <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i>, strengthened by +religious exercises, and a pistol in each hand, stormed upon the deck, as if +they had fallen from the clouds. "<i>Jesus, son </i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>demonios</span><span +lang=ES-TRAD> </span></i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>estos</span></i>": +"They are demons, and not men." After they had thus +"cleared" their vessel, they entered into a contract, called <i>chasse-</i><i><span +lang=FR>partie</span></i>, the articles of which regulated their voyage and the +disposition of the booty. They were very minutely made out. Here are some of +the awards and reimbursements. The one who discovered a prize earned one +hundred crowns; the same amount, or a slave, recompensed for the loss of an +eye. Two eyes were rated at six hundred crowns, or six slaves. For the loss of +the right hand or arm two hundred crowns or two slaves were paid, and for both +six hundred crowns. When a <i><span lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i> had a wound +which obliged him to carry surgical helps and substitutes, they paid him two +hundred crowns, or two slaves. If he had not entirely lost a member, but was +only deprived of its use, he was recompensed the same as if the member had +disappeared.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"They have also regard to qualities and places. Thus, +the captain or chief is allotted five or six portions to what the ordinary +seamen have, the master's mate only two, and other officers proportionable to +their employ, after which they draw equal parts from the highest to the lowest +mariner, the boys not being omitted, who draw half a share, because, when they +take a better vessel than their own, it is the boys' duty to fire their former +vessel and then retire to the prize."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Among the conventions of English pirates we find some +additional articles which show a national difference. Whoever shall steal from +the company, or game up to the value of a piece of eight, (<span lang=FR>piastre</span>, +translated <i><span lang=FR>écu</span></i> by the French,—rated by the +English of that day at not quite five shillings sterling,—about a +dollar,) shall be landed on a desert place, with a bottle of water, gun, +powder, and lead. Whoever shall maltreat or assault another, while the articles +subsist, shall receive the Law of Moses: this was the infliction of forty +consecutive strokes upon the back, a whimsical memento of the dispensation in +the Wilderness. There were articles relative to the treatment and disposition +of women, which sometimes depended upon the tossing of a coin,—<i><span +lang=FR>jeter</span><span lang=FR> </span></i><i><span lang=FR>à</span><span +lang=FR> </span></i><i><span lang=FR>croix</span> pile</i>,—but they need +not be repeated: on this point the French were worse than the English.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The English generally wound up their convention with the +solemn agreement that not a man should speak of separation till the gross +earnings amounted to one thousand pounds per head. Then the whole company +associated by couples, for mutual support in anticipation of wounds and danger, +and to devise to each other all their effects in case of death. While at sea, +or engaged in expeditions against the coasts of Terra Firma, their friendship +was of the most romantic kind, inspired by a common feeling of outlawry, and +colored by the risks of their atrocious employment. They called themselves +"Brothers of the Coast," and took a solemn oath not to secrete from +each other any portion of the common spoil, nor uncharitably to disregard each +other's wants. Violence and lust would have gone upon bootless ventures, if justice +and generosity had not been crimped to strengthen the crew.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These buccaneering conventions were gradually imposed upon +all the West-Indian neighborhood, by the title of uncompromising strength, and +became known as the "Usage of the Coast." When the Brothers met with +any remonstrance which referred the rights of navigators and settlers back to +the Common Law of Europe, they were accustomed to defend their Usage, saying +that their baptism had absolved them from all previous obligations. This was an +allusion to the marine ceremony called in later times "Crossing the +Line," and administered only upon that occasion; but at first it was +performed when vessels were passing the <span lang=FR>Raz</span> de Fonteneau, +on their way to and from the Channel, and originated before navigators crossed +the Atlantic or passed the Tropic of Cancer. The <span lang=FR>Raz</span>, or +Tide-Race, was a dangerous passage off the coast of Brittany; some religious +observance among the early sailors, dictated by anxiety, appears to have +degenerated into the Neptunian frolic, which included a copious christening of +salt water for the raw hands, and was kept up long after men had ceased to fear +the unknown regions of the ocean. Perhaps an aspersion with holy-water was a +part of the original rite, on the ground that the mariner was passing into new +countries, once thought uninhabited, as into a strange new-world, to sanctify +the hardiness and propitiate the Ruler of Sea and Air. The Dutch, also, +performed some ceremony in passing the rocks, then called Barlingots, which <span +lang=FR>lie</span><span lang=FR> </span>off the mouth of the Tagus. Gradually +the usage went farther out to sea; and the farther it went, of course, the more +unrestrained it grew.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This was the baptism which regenerated Law for the +Buccaneers. It also absolved them from the use of their own names, which might, +indeed, in many cases have been but awkward conveniences; and they were not +known except by <i>sobriquets</i>. But when they became <i>habitans</i> or +settlers, and took wives, their surnames appeared for the first time in the +marriage-contract; so that it was a proverb in the islands,—"You +don't know people till they marry."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The institution of marriage was not introduced among the +Buccaneers for many years after their settlement of the western coast. In the +mean time they selected women for extemporaneous partners, to whom they +addressed a few significant words before taking them home to their <i><span +lang=FR>ajoupas</span></i>, to the effect that their antecedents were not worth +minding, but <i>this</i>, slightly tapping the musket, "which never +deceived me, will avenge me, if <i>you</i> do."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These women, with the exception of one or two organized +emigrations of poor, but honest, girls, were the sweepings of the streets of Paris +and London. They were sometimes deported with as little ceremony as the <i><span +lang=FR>engagés</span></i>, and sometimes collected by the Government, +especially of France, for the deliberate purpose of meeting the not over nice +demands of the adventurers; for it was the interest of France to pet <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> and the western coast. All the French islands were +stocked in the same manner. <span lang=FR>Du</span><span lang=FR> </span><span +lang=FR>Tertre</span> devotes a page to the intrigues of a Mademoiselle de la <span +lang=FR>Fayolle</span>, who appeared in St. <span lang=FR>Christophe</span> +with a strong force of these unfortunate women, in 1643. They were collected +from St. Joseph's Hospital in Paris, to prevent the colonists from leaving the +island in search of wives. Mademoiselle came with letters from the Queen and +other ladies of quality, and quite dazzled M. <span lang=FR>Aubert</span>, the +Governor, who proposed to his wife that she should be accommodated in the +chateau. She had a restless and managing temper, and her power lasted as long +as her merchandise.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In 1667 there was an auction-sale of fifty girls without +character at <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span>. They went off so well that +fifty more were soon supplied. <span lang=FR>Schoelcher</span> says that in the +twelfth volume of the "Archives de la Marine" there is a note of +"one hundred nymphs for the Antilles and a hundred more for San +Domingo," under the date of 1685.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Here were new elements of civilization for the devoted +island, whose earliest colonists were pirates pacified by prostitutes. They +were the progenitors of families whom wealth and colonial luxury made famous; +for in such a climate a buccaneering nickname will soon flower into titles +which conceal the gnarled and ugly stock. Some of these French <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Dianas</span> led a healthy and hardy life with their husbands, +followed them to the chase, and emulated their exploits with the pistol and the +knife. Some blood was thus renewed while some grew more depraved, else the +colony would have rotted from the soil.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Nature struggles to keep all her streams fresh and clear. +The children of adventurers may inherit the vices of their parents; but Nature +silently puts her fragrant graft into the withering tree, and it learns to bud +with unexpected fruit. Inheritance is only one of Mother Nature's emphatic +protestations that her wayward children will be the death of her; but she knows +better than that, unfortunately for the respectable vice and meanness which +flourish in every land and seek to prolong their line. California and Australia +soon reach the average of New York and London, and invite Nature to preserve +through them, too, her world. She drains and plants these unwholesome places; +powerful men and lovely women are the Mariposa cedars which attest her splendid +tillage. But a part of this Nature consists of conservative decency in men who +belong to law-abiding and Protestant races. For want of this, surgery and cautery +became Nature's expedients for Hayti, which was one of the worst sinks on her +great farm.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>If a greater number of female emigrants had been like Mary +Read, pirate as she was, the story of Hayti would have been modified. She had +the character which Nature loves to civilize.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mary Read was the illegitimate daughter of an Englishwoman, +who brought her up as a boy, after revealing to her the secret of her origin, +apparently wishing to protect her against the mischances which befell herself. +She was first a footman, then a sailor on board a man-of-war; afterwards she +served with great bravery in Flanders in a regiment of infantry. Then she +entered a cavalry regiment, where she fell deeply in love with a comrade, and +her woman's nature awoke. Obeying the uncontrollable instinct, she modestly +revealed her sex to him, and was married with great <i>éclat</i>, after he had +sought in vain, repelled by her high conduct, to make her less than wife. He +died soon after, and the Peace of <span lang=FR>Ryswick</span> compelled her to +assume her male attire again and seek employment. She went before the mast in a +vessel bound for the West Indies, which was taken by English pirates, with whom +she afterwards enjoyed the benefit of a royal proclamation pardoning all +pirates who submitted within a limited period. Their money gave out, and they +enlisted under a privateer captain to cruise against the Spaniards; but the +men, finding a favorable opportunity, took the vessel from the officers, and +commenced their old trade. Mary was as brave as any in boarding Spanish craft, +pistol in hand, to clear the decks; no peril made her falter, but she was +disarmed again by love in the person of a fine young pirate of superior mind +and grace. She made a friend of him, revealed her sex, and married him. Her +husband had a falling-out with a comrade, and a duel impended. Torn with love +and dread, she managed to pick a quarrel with his antagonist, appointed a +meeting an hour before the one which her husband expected, and was lucky enough +to postpone the latter indefinitely. At her trial in Jamaica, she would have +escaped through the compassion of the court, if some one had not deposed that +she often deliberately defended piracy with the argument that pirates were +fortunately amenable to capital punishment, and this was a restraint to +cowards, without which a thousand rascals who passed for honest people, but who +did nothing but pillage widows and orphans and defraud their neighbors, would +rush into a more honorable profession, the ocean would be covered with this <i>canaille</i>, +and the ruin of commerce would involve that of piracy. She died in prison of a +fever.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Ann Bonny was born in Cork. She was of a truculent +disposition, and the murdering part of piracy was much to her taste. When her +husband was led out to execution, the special favor was granted of an interview +with her; but her only benediction was,—"I'm sorry to find ye in +this state; if ye had fought like a man, ye would not be seein' yerself hung +like a dog."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But what could angels themselves have done to make Captain +Teach presentable in the best society? <i>Blackbeard</i> was his <i>sobriquet</i>, +for he had one flowing over his chest which patriarchs might be forgiven for +coveting. The hair of his head was tastefully done up with ribbons, and inframed +his truculent face. When he went into a fight, three pairs of pistols hung from +a scarf, and two slow-matches, alight and projecting under his hat, glowed +above his cruel eyes. Certainly, the light of battle was not in his case a +metaphor.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>On board his vessel, one day, Captain Teach, just combing +upon strong-water, summoned his crew. "Go to, now, let us make a +hell," he cried, "and get a little seasoned. We'll find who can stand +it longest." Thereupon they all went down into the hold, which he had +carefully battened down; then he lighted sundry pots of <span lang=EN-GB>sulphur</span>, +and showed superior qualifications for the future by smoking them all out.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>On the day of his last combat, when advised to confide to +his wife where his money was hid, he refused, saying that only he and the Devil +knew where it was, and the survivor was to have it.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Whenever these English pirates found a clergyman, they acted +as if pillaging had been only a last resort, owing to the scarcity of that +commodity in those seas. Captain Roberts took a vessel which had on board a +body of English troops with their chaplain, destined for garrison-duty. His +crew went into ecstasies of delight, as if they had separated themselves from +mankind and incurred atrocious suspicions from their desire to seek for +religious persons in all places. They wanted nothing but a chaplain; they had +never wanted anything else; he must join them; he would have nothing to do but +to pray and make the punch. As he steadily refused, they reluctantly parted +with him; but, smitten with his firmness, they retained of his effects nothing +but three prayer-books and a corkscrew.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>These were but common villains. The genuine <i><span +lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i> mingled national hatred with his avarice, and +harried the Spanish coasts with a sense of being the avenger of old affronts, +at least the divine instrument of his country's honest instincts, whose duty it +was to smite and spoil, as if the Armada were yet upon the seas as the +Inquisition was upon the land. Frenchmen and Englishmen, Huguenot and Dutch +Calvinists, Willis, Warner, Montbar the Exterminator, <span lang=FR>Levasseur</span>, +Lolonois, Henry Morgan, Coxon and Sharp, Bartholomew the Portuguese, Rock the +Dutchman, were representative men. They gave a villanous expression, and an +edge which avarice whetted, to the religious patriotism of their countrymen. +The <span lang=EN-GB>sombre</span> and deadly prejudices which lay half torpid +in their cage at home escaped from restraint in these men, and suddenly acted +out their proper nature on the highways of the world.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>We have no space to record particular deeds and cruelties. +The stories of the exploits of the <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> show +that their outlaw-life had developed all the powerful traits which make +pioneering or the profession of arms so illustrious. Audacity, cunning, great +endurance, tenacity of purpose, all the character of the organizing nations +whence they sprang, appeared in them so stained by murder and bestiality of +every kind, that the impression made by their career is revolting, and gets no +mitigation from their better qualities. They were generous to each other, and +scrupulously just; but it was for the sake of strengthening their hands against +mankind. They fought against the enemies of their respective nations with all +the fiendishness of popular hate that has broken loose from popular restraints +and civilizing checks and has become a beast. Commerce was nothing to them but +a convenience for plunder; a voyaging ship was an oasis in the mid-waste on +which they swarmed for an orgy of avarice and gluttony; the cities of the +Spanish Main were hives of wealth and women to be overturned and rifled, and +their mother-country a retreat where the sanctimonious old age of a few +survivors of these successful crimes could display their money and their piety, +and perhaps a titled panel on their coach. Henry Morgan was knighted, and made +a good end in the Tower of London as a political prisoner. Pierre le Grand, the +first <i><span lang=FR>Flibustier</span></i> who took a ship, retired to France +with wealth and consideration. Captain Avery, who had an immense fame, was the +subject of a drama entitled "The Happy Pirate," which inoculated many +a prentice-lad with cutlasses and rollicking ferocity. Others became the agents +of easy cabinets who always winked at buccaneering, because it so often saved them +the expense of war. What gift or place would a slave-holding cabinet, or a +Southern Confederacy, have thought too dear to bestow upon Captain Walker, +whose criminal acts were feeding the concealed roots of the Great Conspiracy, +if his murder and arson had become illustrious by success?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> were composed of +many nations. The Buccaneers were mostly French. Their head-quarters, or +principal <i><span lang=FR>boucans</span></i>, upon San Domingo, were on the peninsula + of Samana, at Port Margot, Savanna Brulée near Gonaives, and the landing-place +of Mirebalais. The Spaniards gained at first several advantages over them by +cutting off the couples which were engaged in chasing the wild cattle. This +compelled the Buccaneers to associate in larger bands, and to add Spaniards to their +list of game. The word <i>massacre</i> on the maps of the island marks places +where sanguinary surprises were effected by either party; but the Spaniards +lost more blood than their wily antagonists, and were compelled to abandon all +their settlements on the northern and northeastern coasts and to fall back upon +San Domingo and their other towns. The <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> +blockaded their rivers, intercepted the vessels of slave-traders of all +nations, made prizes of the cargoes, and sold them to the French of the rising +western colony, to the English at Jamaica, or among the other islands, wherever +a contraband speculation could be made. This completed the ruin of Spanish San +Domingo; for the Government, crippled by land- and sea-fights with English, +French, and Dutch, was unable to protect its colonies. It is very strange to +notice this sudden weakness of the nation which was lately so domineering; the +causes which produced it have been stated elsewhere<a href="#_edn13" +name="_ednref13" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[13]</span></span></span></a> +with great research and power.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Spaniards had made a few settlements in the western part +of the island, the principal one of which was <span lang=ES-TRAD>Yaguana</span>, +or Leogane. They were too far from the eastern population to be successfully +defended or succored, in case of the attacks which were constantly expected +after Drake's expedition. In 1592, the town of <span lang=ES-TRAD>Azua</span> +was taken and destroyed by an English force under Christopher Newport, who was +making war against the Spaniards on his own account. He afterwards attacked <span +lang=ES-TRAD>Yaguana</span>, was at first repulsed, but took it by night and +burned it to the ground. In consequence of this, all the western settlements +were abandoned; and not a Spaniard remained in that part of the island after +1606. Cruisers of other nations seized the ports for their private convenience.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>A brief outline will suffice to conduct us to the secure +establishment of the French in Western San Domingo. <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> +was attacked by the Spaniards in 1638; the Buccaneers were surprised, put to +the sword, and scattered. A few joined their brethren in San Domingo. Their +discomfiture was thought to be so complete that no garrison was left upon <span + lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span>. At the same time the Spaniards organized bands of +fifty men each, called <i>la </i><i><span lang=FR>cinquantaine</span></i> by +the French Buccaneers, to serve as a kind of rural police to hunt down the +latter and exterminate them. For safety the French collected, and put at their +head Willis, an Englishman, who had just then appeared with two or three +hundred men, with the view of joining those of his countrymen who were +Buccaneers. He led them back to <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span>, and threw up +some rude works to command the harbor. But the national antipathies soon +appeared, on the occasion of some encroachment of Willis, whose countrymen were +the more numerous party. The French <span lang=EN-GB>despatched</span> secret +agents to St. <span lang=FR>Christophe</span>, who made it clear to M. de Poincy, +the Governor of that island, that the English could be easily dispossessed by a +small force attacking them from without, while the French rose within. The +Governor thought it was a good opportunity to weed the Huguenots, who were +always making trouble about religious matters, out of his colony; he did not +hesitate, therefore, to cooperate with the outlaws for so nice a game as +driving out the English by getting rid of his heretics. The operation was intrusted +to M. <span lang=FR>Levasseur</span>, a brave and well-instructed Huguenot +officer, who took with him about a hundred men. Willis decamped at their first +summons, knowing the temper of his French subjects; and <span lang=FR>Levasseur</span> +landed, and immediately began to fortify a platform-rock which rose only a few +paces from the water's edge. This he intrenched, surrounding an open square +capable of accommodating three or four hundred men. A never-failing spring +gushed from the rock for the supply of a garrison. From the middle of this +platform there rose conveniently another rock thirty feet high, with scarped +sides, upon which he built a block-house for himself and the ammunition, +communicating with the platform by a movable ladder of iron. He made the place +so formidable as a buccaneering centre that the Spaniards resolved to attack it. +They tried it at first from the sea, but, being well battered, retired and +disembarked six hundred men by night to make a land-attack. They were defeated, +with the loss of a hundred men.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><span lang=FR>Levasseur</span> appears to have grown +arrogant with his success. He began to abuse and persecute all the Catholics, +burned their chapel, and drove away a priest. He had stocks set up, made of +iron, which he called his Hell, and the fort where he kept it, Purgatory. <span +lang=FR>Du</span><span lang=FR> </span><span lang=FR>Tertre</span> says that he +wanted to make of <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> a little Geneva. He +disavowed the authority of M. de Poincy, and when the latter demanded +restitution of a <i><span lang=FR>Nôtre</span> Dame</i> of silver which the <i><span +lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> had taken from a Spanish vessel, he sent a model +of it, constructed of wood, with the message that Catholics were too spiritual +to attach any value to the material, but as for himself, he had a liking for +the metal. <span lang=FR>Levasseur</span> was assassinated by two of his +captains after a reign of a dozen years.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The next Governor sent by De Poincy to <span lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> +was a Catholic, the Chevalier <span lang=FR>Fontenay</span>. The religion of +this stronghold changed, but not its habits. The Spaniards planned a second +attack upon it in 1653, and succeeded by dragging a couple of light cannon up +the mountain so as to command the donjon built by <span lang=FR>Levasseur</span>. +The French took refuge upon the coast of San Domingo, where they waited for an +opportunity to repossess their little island. This soon followed upon an +application made by De Rausset, one of <span lang=FR>Levasseur's</span> old +comrades, to the French West India Company for a sufficient force to drive out +the Spaniards. De <span lang=FR>Rausset's</span> plan succeeded, <span + lang=ES-TRAD>Tortuga</span> passed permanently into French hands, and the +Spaniards confined themselves for the future to annoying the new colonies of +Buccaneers which overflowed upon San Domingo. But their efforts disappear after +a terrible defeat inflicted upon them in 1665, which the <i><span lang=FR>Flibustiers</span></i> +followed up by the sack and destruction of Santiago, the town second in +importance to San Domingo. Henceforth the history of the island belongs to France.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>[To be continued.]</p> + +<p class=Chapter>A COMPLAINT OF FRIENDS.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>If things would not run into each other so, it would be a +thousand times easier and a million times pleasanter to get on in the world. +Let the sheepiness be set on one side and the goatiness on the other, and +immediately you know where you are. It is not necessary to ask that there be +any increase of the one or any diminution of the other, but only that each +shall preempt its own territory and stay there. Milk is good, and water is +good, but don't set the milk-pail under the pump. Pleasure softens pain, but +pain embitters pleasure; and who would not rather have his happiness +concentrated into one memorable day that shall gleam and glow through a +lifetime, than have it spread out over a dozen comfortable, commonplace, +humdrum forenoons and afternoons, each one as like the others as two peas in a +pod? Since the law of compensation obtains, I suppose it is the best law for +us; but if it had been left with me, I should have made the clever people rich +and handsome, and left poverty and ugliness to the stupid people; because—don't +you see?—the stupid people won't know they are ugly, and won't care if +they are poor, but the clever people will be hampered and tortured. I would +have given the good wives to the good husbands, and made drunken men marry +drunken women. Then there would have been one family exquisitely happy, instead +of two struggling against misery. I would have made the rose-stem downy, and +put all the thorns on the thistles. I would have gouged out the jewel from the +toad's head, and given the peacock the nightingale's voice, and not set +everything so at half and half.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But that is the way it is. We find the world made to our +hand. The wise men marry the foolish virgins, and the splendid virgins marry +dolts, and matters in general are so mixed up that the choice lies between nice +things about spoiled and vile things that are not so bad after all, and it is +hard to tell sometimes which you like best or which you loathe least.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I expect to lose every friend I have in the world by the publication +of this paper—except the dunces who are impaled in it. They will never +read it, and if they do, will never suspect I mean them; while the sensible and +true friends, who do me good and not evil all the days of their lives, will +think I am driving at their noble hearts, and will at once haul off and leave +me inconsolable. Still I am going to write it. You must open the safety-valve +once in a while, even if the steam does whiz and shriek, or there will be an +explosion, which is fatal, while the whizzing and shrieking are only +disagreeable.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Doubtless friendship has its advantages and its pleasures; +doubtless hostility has its isolations and its revenges: still, if called upon +to choose once for all between friends and foes, I think, on the whole, I should +cast my vote for the foes. Twenty enemies will not do you the mischief of one +friend. Enemies you always know where to find. They are in fair and square +perpetual hostility, and you keep your armor on and your sentinels posted; but +with friends you are inveigled into a false security, and, before you know it, +your honor, your modesty, your delicacy are scudding before the gales. +Moreover, with your friend you can never make reprisals. If your enemy attacks +you, you can always strike back and hit hard. You are expected to defend +yourself against him to the top of your bent. He is your legal opponent in +honorable warfare. You can pour hot-shot into him with murderous vigor; and the +more he wriggles, the better you feel. In fact, it is rather refreshing to +measure swords once in a while with such a one. You like to exert your power +and keep yourself in practice. You do not rejoice so much in overcoming your +enemy as in overcoming. If a marble statue could show fight, you would just as +soon fight it; but as it cannot, you take something that can, and something, +besides, that has had the temerity to attack you, and so has made a lawful +target of itself. But against your friend your hands are tied. He has injured +you. He has disgusted you. He has infuriated you. But it was most Christianly +done. You cannot hurl a thunderbolt, or pull a trigger, or lisp a syllable, +against those amiable monsters who with tenderest fingers are sticking pins all +over you. So you shut fast the doors of your lips, and inwardly sigh for a +good, stout, brawny, malignant foe, who, under any and every circumstance, will +design you harm, and on whom you can lavish your lusty blows with a hearty will +and a clear conscience.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Your enemy keeps clear of you. He neither grants nor claims +favors. He awards you your rights,—no more, no less,—and demands +the same from you. Consequently there is no friction. Your friend, on the +contrary, is continually getting himself tangled up with you "because he +is your friend." I have heard that Shelley was never better pleased than +when his associates made free with his coats, boots, and hats for their own +use, and that he appropriated their property in the same way. Shelley was a +poet, and perhaps idealized his friends. He saw them, probably, in a state of pure +intellect. I am not a poet; I look at people in the concrete. The most obvious +thing about my friends is their avoirdupois; and I prefer that they should wear +their own cloaks and suffer me to wear mine. There is no neck in the world that +I want my collar to span except my own. It is very exasperating to me to go to +my bookcase and miss a book of which I am in immediate and pressing need, +because an intimate friend has carried it off without asking leave, on the +score of his intimacy. I have not, and do not wish to have, any alliance that +shall abrogate the eighth commandment. A great mistake is lying round loose +hereabouts,—a mistake fatal to many friendships that did run well. The +common fallacy is, that intimacy dispenses with the necessity of politeness. +The truth is just the opposite of this. The more points of contact there are, +the more danger of friction there is, and the more carefully should people +guard against it. If you see a man only once a month, it is not of so vital +importance that you do not trench on his rights, tastes, or whims. He can bear +to be crossed or annoyed occasionally. If he does not have a very high regard +for you, it is comparatively unimportant, because your paths are generally so +diverse. But you and the man with whom you dine every day have it in your power +to make each other exceedingly uncomfortable. A very little dropping will wear +away rock, if it only keep at it. The thing that you would not think of, if it +occurred only twice a year, becomes an intolerable burden when it happens twice +a day. This is where husbands and wives run aground. They take too much for +granted. If they would but see that they have something to gain, something to +save, as well as something to enjoy, it would be better for them; but they +proceed on the assumption that their love is an inexhaustible tank, and not a +fountain depending for its supply on the stream that trickles into it. So, for +every little annoying habit, or weakness, or fault, they draw on the tank +without being careful to keep the supply open, till they awake one morning to +find the pump dry, and, instead of love, at best, nothing but a cold habit of +complacence. On the contrary, the more intimate friends become, whether married +or unmarried, the more scrupulously should they strive to repress in themselves +everything annoying, and to cherish both in themselves and each other +everything pleasing. While each should draw on his love to neutralize the +faults of his friend, it is suicidal to draw on his friend's love to neutralize +his own faults. Love should be cumulative, since it cannot be stationary. If it +does not increase, it decreases. Love, like confidence, is a plant of slow +growth, and of most exotic fragility. It must be constantly and tenderly +cherished. Every noxious and foreign element must be carefully removed from it. +All sunshine, and sweet airs, and morning dews, and evening showers must +breathe upon it perpetual fragrance, or it dies into a hideous and repulsive +deformity, fit only to be cast out and trodden under foot of men, while, +properly cultivated, it is a Tree of Life.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Your enemy keeps clear of you not only in business, but in +society. If circumstances thrust him into contact with you, he is curt and +centrifugal. But your friend breaks in upon your "saintly solitude" +with perfect equanimity. He never for a moment harbors a suspicion that he can +intrude, "because he is your friend." So he drops in on his way to +the office to chat half an hour over the latest news. The half-hour isn't much +in itself. If it were after dinner, you wouldn't mind it; but after breakfast +every moment "runs itself in golden sands," and the break in your +time crashes a worse break in your temper. "Are you busy?" asks the +considerate wretch, adding insult to injury. What can you do? Say yes and wound +his self-love forever? But he has a wife and family. You respect their +feelings, smile and smile, and are villain enough to be civil with your lips, +and hide the poison of asps under your tongue, till you have a chance to +relieve your o'ercharged heart by shaking your fist in impotent wrath at his +retreating form. You will receive the reward of your hypocrisy as you richly +deserve, for ten to one he will drop in again when he comes back from his +office, and arrest you wandering in Dreamland in the beautiful twilight. +Delighted to find that you are neither reading nor writing,—the absurd +dolt! as if a man weren't at work unless he be wielding a sledge-hammer!—he +will preach out, and prose out, and twaddle out another hour of your golden +even-tide, "because he is your friend." You don't care whether he is +judge or jury,—whether he talks sense or nonsense; you don't want him to +talk at all. You don't want him there any way. You want to be alone. If you +don't, why are you sitting there in the deepening twilight? If you wanted him, +couldn't you send for him? Why don't you go out into the drawing-room, where +are music, and lights, and gay people? What right have I to suppose, that, +because you are not using your eyes, you are not using your brain? What right have +I to set myself up as judge of the value of your time, and so rob you of +perhaps the most delicious hour in all your day, on pretence that it is of no +use to you?—take a pound of flesh clean out of your heart and trip on my +smiling way as if I had not earned the gallows?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And what in Heaven's name is the good of all this ceaseless +talk? To what purpose are you wearied, exhausted, dragged out and out to the +very extreme of tenuity? A sprightly badinage,—a running fire of nonsense +for half an hour,—a tramp over unfamiliar ground with a familiar guide,—a +discussion of something with somebody who knows all about it, or who, not +knowing, wants to learn from you,—a pleasant interchange of commonplaces +with a circle of friends around the fire, at such hours as you give to society: +all this is not only tolerable, but agreeable,—often positively +delightful; but to have an indifferent person, on no score but that of +friendship, break into your sacred presence, and suck your blood through +indefinite cycles of time, is an abomination. If he clatters on an indifferent +subject, you can do well enough for fifteen minutes, buoyed up by the hope that +he will presently have a fit, or be sent for, or come to some kind of an end. +But when you gradually open to the conviction that <i><span lang=FR>vis</span><span +lang=FR> </span>inertiae</i> rules the hour, and the thing which has been is +that which shall be, you wax listless; your chariot-wheels drive heavily; your +end of the pole drags in the mud, and you speedily wallow in unmitigated +disgust. If he broaches a subject on which you have a real and deep living +interest, you shrink from unbosoming yourself to him. You feel that it would be +sacrilege. He feels nothing of the sort. He treads over your heart-strings in +his cow-hide brogans, and does not see that they are not whip-cords. He pokes +his gold-headed cane in among your treasures, blind to the fact that you are +clutching both arms around them, that no gleam of flashing gold may reveal +their whereabouts to him. You draw yourself up in your shell, projecting a +monosyllabic claw occasionally as a sign of continued vitality; but the +pachyderm does not withdraw, and you gradually lower into an indignation,—smothered, +fierce, intense.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Why, <i>why</i>, WHY will people inundate their unfortunate +victims with such "weak, washy, everlasting floods"? Why will they +haul everything out into the open day? Why will they make the Holy of Holies +common and unclean? Why will they be so ineffably stupid as not to see that +there is that which speech profanes? Why will they lower their drag-nets into the +unfathomable waters, in the vain attempt to bring up your pearls and gems, +whose <span lang=EN-GB>lustre</span> would pale to ashes in the garish light,—whose +only sparkle is in the deep sea-soundings? <i>Procul, O procul </i><i><span +lang=FR>este</span>, profani!</i></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Oh, the matchless power of silence! There are words that +concentrate in themselves the glory of a lifetime; but there is a silence that +is more precious than they. Speech ripples over the surface of life, but +silence sinks into its depths. Airy pleasantnesses bubble up in airy, pleasant +words. Weak sorrows quaver out their shallow being and are not. When the heart +is cleft to its core, there is no speech nor language.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Do not now, Messrs. Bores, think to retrieve your characters +by coming into my house and sitting mute for two hours. Heaven forbid that your +blood should be found on my skirts! but I believe I shall kill you, if you do. +The only reason why I have not laid violent hands on you heretofore is that +your vapid talk has operated as a wire to conduct my electricity to the +receptive and kindly earth; but if you intrude upon my magnetisms without any +such life-preserver, your future in this world is not worth a crossed six-pence. +Your silence would break the reed that your talk but bruised. The only people +with whom it is a joy to sit silent are the people with whom it is a joy to +talk. Clear out!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Friendship plays the mischief in the false ideas of +constancy which are generated and cherished in its name, if not by its agency. +Your enemies are intense, but temporary. Time wears off the edge of hostility. +It is the alembic in which offences are dissolved into thin air, and a calm +indifference reigns in their stead. But your friends are expected to be a +permanent arrangement. They are not only a sore evil, but of long continuance. +Adhesiveness seems to be the head and front, the bones and blood of their +creed. It is not the direction of the quality, but the quality itself, which +they swear by. Only stick, it is no matter what you stick to. Fall out with a +man, and you can kiss and be friends as soon as you like; the recording angel +will set it down on the credit side of his books. Fall in, and you are expected +to stay in, <i>ad infinitum</i>, <i>ad nauseam</i>. No matter what combination +of laws got you there, there you are, and there you must stay, for better, for worse, +till merciful Death you do part,—or you are—"fickle." You +find a man entertaining for an hour, a week, a concert, a journey, and <i>presto!</i> +you are saddled with him forever. What preposterous absurdity! Do but look at +it calmly. You are thrown into contact with a person, and, as in duty bound, +you proceed to fathom him: for every man is a possible revelation. In the deeps +of his soul there may <span lang=FR>lie</span> unknown worlds for you. +Consequently you proceed at once to experiment on him. It takes a little while +to get your tackle in order. Then the line begins to run off rapidly, and your +eager soul cries out, "Ah! what depth! What perpetual calmness must be +down below! What rest is here for all my tumult! What a grand, vast nature is +this!" Surely, surely, you are on the high seas. Surely, you will now +float serenely down the eternities! But by-and-by there is a kink. You find, +that, though the line runs off so fast, it does not go down,—it only +floats out. A current has caught it and bears it on horizontally. It does not +sink plumb. You have been deceived. Your grand Pacific Ocean is nothing but a +shallow little brook that you can ford all the year round, if it does not +utterly dry up in the summer heats, when you want it most; or, at best, it is a +fussy little tormenting river, that won't and can't sail a sloop. What are you +going to do about it? You are going to wind up your lead and line, shoulder +your birch canoe as the old sea-kings used, and thrid the deep forests, and +scale the purple hills, till you come to water again, when you will unroll your +lead and line for another essay. Is that fickleness? What else can you do? Must +you launch your bark on the unquiet stream, against whose pebbly bottom the +keel continually grates and rasps your nerves—simply that your reputation +suffer no detriment? Fickleness? There was no fickleness about it. You were +trying an experiment which you had every right to try. As soon as you were +satisfied, you stopped. If you had stopped sooner, you would have been +unsatisfied. If you had stopped later, you would have been dissatisfied. It is +a criminal contempt of the magnificent possibilities of life not to lay hold of +"God's occasions floating by." It is an equally criminal perversion +of them to cling tenaciously to what was only the <i>simulacrum</i> of an +occasion. A man will toil many days and nights among the mountains to find an +ingot of gold, which, found, he bears home with infinite pains and just +rejoicing; but he would be a fool who should lade his mules with iron-pyrites +to justify his labors, however severe.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Fickleness! what is it, that we make such an ado about it? +And what is constancy, that it commands such usurious interest? The one is a +foible only in its relations. The other is only thus a virtue. "Fickle as +the winds" is our death-seal upon a man; but should we like our winds un-fickle? +Would a perpetual Northeaster lay us open to perpetual gratitude? or is a soft +South gale to be orisoned and vespered forevermore?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I am tired of this eternal prating of devotion and +constancy. It is senseless in itself and harmful in its tendencies. The dictate +of reason is to treat men and women as we do oranges. Suck all the juice out +and then let them go. Where is the good of keeping the peel and pulp-cells till +they get old, dry, and <span lang=EN-GB>mouldy</span>? Let them go, and they +will help feed the earth-worms and bugs and beetles who can hardly find +existence a continued banquet, and fertilize the earth which will have you give +before you receive. Thus they will ultimately spring up in new and beautiful +shapes. Clung to with constancy, they stain your knife and napkin, impart a bad +odor to your dining-room, and degenerate into something that is neither +pleasant to the eye nor good for food. I believe in a rotation of crops, +morally and socially, as well as agriculturally. When you have taken the +measure of a man, when you have sounded him and know that you cannot wade in +him more than ankle-deep, when you have got out of him all that he has to yield +for your soul's sustenance and strength, what is the next thing to be done? +Obviously, pass him on; and turn you "to fresh woods and pastures +new." Do you work him an injury? By no means. Friends that are simply +glued on, and don't grow out of, are little worth. He has nothing more for you, +nor you for him; but he may be rich in juices wherewithal to nourish the heart +of another man, and their two lives, set together, may have an <span lang=FR>endosmose</span> +and <span lang=FR>exosmose</span> whose result shall be richness of soil, +grandeur of growth, beauty of foliage, and perfectness of fruit; while you and +he would only have languished into aridity and a stunted crab-tree.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>For my part, I desire to sweep off my old friends with the +old year and begin the new with a clean record. It is a measure absolutely +necessary. The snake does not put on his new skin over the old one. He sloughs +off the first, before he dons the second. He would be a very clumsy serpent, if +he did not. One cannot have successive layers of friendships any more than the +snake has successive layers of skins. One must adopt some system to guard +against a congestion of the heart from plethora of loves. I go in for the much-abused +fair-weather, skin-deep, April-shower friends,—the friends who will drop +off, if let alone,—who must be kept awake to be kept at all,—who +will talk and laugh with you as long as it suits your respective humors and you +are prosperous and happy,—the blessed butterfly-race who flutter about +your June mornings, and when the clouds lower, and the drops patter, and the +rains descend, and the winds blow, will spread their gay wings and float +gracefully away to sunny southern lands where the skies are yet blue and the +breezes violet-scented. They are not only agreeable, but deeply wise. So long +as a man keeps his streamer flying, his sails set, and his hull above water, it +is pleasant to paddle alongside; but when the sails split, the yards crack, and +the keel goes staggering down, by all means paddle off. Why should you be +submerged in his whirlpool? Will he drown any more easily because you are +drowning with him? Lung is lung. He dies from want of air, not from want of +sympathy. When, a poor fellow sits down among the ashes, the best thing his +friends can do is to stand afar off. Job bore the loss of property, children, +health, with equanimity. Satan himself found his match there; and for all his +buffetings, Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly. But Job's three friends +must needs make an appointment together to come and mourn with him and to +comfort him, and after this Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day,—and +no wonder.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Your friends have an intimate knowledge of you that is +astonishing to contemplate. It is not that they know your affairs, which he who +runs may read, but they know you. From a bit of bone, <span lang=FR>Cuvier</span> +could predicate a whole animal, even to the hide and hair. Such moral +naturalists are your dear five hundred friends. It seems to yourself that you +are immeasurably reticent. You know, of a certainty, that you project only the +smallest possible fragment of yourself. You yield your universality to the bond +of common brotherhood; but your individualism—what it is that makes you you—withdraws +itself naturally, involuntarily, inevitably, into the background,—the dim +distance which their eyes cannot penetrate. But, from the fraction which you do +project, they construct another you, call it by your name, and pass it around +for the real, the actual you. You bristle with jest and laughter and wild +whims, to keep them at a distance; and they fancy this to be your every-day +equipment. They think your life holds constant carnival. It is astonishing what +ideas spring up in the heads of sensible people. There are those who assume +that a person can never have had any grief, unless somebody has died, or he has +been disappointed in love,—not knowing that every avenue of joy lies open +to the tramp of pain. They see the flashing coronet on the queen's brow, and +they infer a diamond woman, not recking of the human heart that throbs wildly +out of sight. They see the foam-crest on the wave, and picture an Atlantic + Ocean of froth, and not the solemn sea that stands below in eternal equipoise. +You turn to them the luminous crescent of your life, and they call it the whole +round globe; and so they love you with a love that is agate, not pearl, because +what they love in you is something infinitely below the highest. They love you +level: they have never scaled your heights nor fathomed your depths. And when +they talk of you as familiarly as if they had taken out your auricles and +ventricles, and turned them inside out, and wrung them, and shaken them,—when +they prate of your transparency and openness, the abandonment with which you +draw aside the curtain and reveal the inmost thoughts of your heart,—you, +who are to yourself a miracle and a mystery, you smile inwardly, and are +content. They are on the wrong scent, and you may pursue your plans in peace. +They are indiscriminate and satisfied. They do not know the relation of what +appears to what is. If they chance to skirt along the coasts of your Purple Island, +it will be only chance, and they will not know it. You may close your port-holes, +lower your draw-bridge, and make merry, for they will never come within gun-shot +of the "Round Tower of your heart."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There is no such thing as knowing a man intimately. Every +soul is, for the greater part of its mortal life, isolated from every other. +Whether it dwell in the Garden of Eden or the Desert of Sahara, it dwells +alone. Not only do we jostle against the street-crowd unknowing and unknown, +but we go out and come in, we <span lang=FR>lie</span> down and rise up, with +strangers. Jupiter and Neptune sweep the heavens not more unfamiliar to us than +the worlds that circle our own hearth-stone. Day after day, and year after +year, a person moves by your side; he sits at the same table; he reads the same +books; he kneels in the same church. You know every hair of his head, every +trick of his lips, every tone of his voice; you can tell him far off by his +gait. Without seeing him, you recognize his step, his knock, his laugh. +"Know him? Yes, I have known him these twenty years." No, you don't +know him. You know his gait, and hair, and voice. You know what preacher he +hears, what ticket he voted, and what were his last year's expenses; but you +don't know him. He sits quietly in his chair, but he is in the temple. You +speak to him; his soul comes out into the vestibule to answer you, and returns,—and +the gates are shut; therein you cannot enter. You were discussing the state of +the country; but, when you ceased, he opened a postern-gate, went down a bank, +and launched on a sea over whose waters you have no boat to sail, no star to +guide. You have loved and reverenced him. He has been your concrete of truth +and nobleness. Unwittingly you touch a secret spring, and a Blue-Beard Chamber +stands revealed. You give no sign; you meet and part as usual; but a Dead Sea +rolls between you two forevermore.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It must be so. Not even to the nearest and dearest can one +unveil the secret place where his soul abideth, so that there shall be no more +any winding ways or hidden chambers; but to your indifferent neighbor, what +blind alleys, and deep caverns, and inaccessible mountains! To him who +"touches the electric chain wherewith you're darkly bound," your soul +sends back an answering thrill. Our little window is opened, and there is short +parley. Your ships speak each other now and then in welcome, though imperfect +communication; but immediately you strike out again into the great, shoreless +sea, over which you must sail forever alone. You may shrink from the far-reaching +solitudes of your heart, but no other foot than yours can tread them, save +those</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2 style='margin-top:6.0pt'>"That, eighteen hundred +years ago, were nailed,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>For our advantage, to the bitter cross."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Be thankful that it is so,—that only His eye sees +whose hand formed. If we could look in, we should be appalled at the vision. +The worlds that glide around us are mysteries too high for us. We cannot attain +to them. The naked soul is a sight too awful for man to look at and live. There +are individuals whose topography we would like to know a little better, and +there is danger that we crash against each other while roaming around in the +dark; but, for all that, would we not have the Constitution broken up. Somebody +says, "In heaven there will be no secrets," which, it seems to me, +would be intolerable. (If that were a revelation from the King of Heaven, of +course I would not speak flippantly of it; but, though towards Heaven we look +with reverence and humble hope, I do not know that Tom, Dick, and Harry's +notions of it have any special claim to our respect.) Such publicity would destroy +all individuality, and undermine the foundations of society. Clairvoyance—if +there be any such thing—always seemed to me a stupid impertinence. When +people pay visits to me, I wish them to come to the front-door, and ring the +bell, and send up their names. I don't wish them to climb in at the window, or +creep through the pantry, or, worst of all, float through the keyhole, and +catch me in undress. So I believe that in all worlds thoughts will be the +subjects of volition,—more accurately expressed when expression is +desired, but just as entirely suppressed when we will suppression.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>After all, perhaps the chief trouble arises from a prevalent +confusion of ideas as to what constitutes a man your friend. Friendship may +stand for that peaceful complacence which you feel towards all well—behaved +people who wear clean collars and use tolerable grammar. This is a very good +meaning, if everybody will subscribe to it. But sundry of these well-behaved +people will mistake your civility and complacence for a recognition of special +affinity, and proceed at once to frame an alliance offensive and defensive +while the sun and the moon shall endure. Oh, the barnacles that cling to your +keel in such waters! The inevitable result is, that they win your intense +rancor. You would feel a genial kindliness towards them, if they would be +satisfied with that; but they lay out to be your specialty. They infer your +innocent little inch to be the standard-bearer of twenty ells, and goad you to +frenzy. I mean you, you desperate little horror, who nearly dethroned my reason +six years ago! I always meant to have my revenge, and here I impale you before +the public. For three months, you fastened yourself upon me; and I could not +shake you off. What availed it me, that you were an honest and excellent man? +Did I not, twenty times a day, wish you had been a villain, who had insulted +me, and I a Kentucky giant, that I might have the unspeakable satisfaction of +knocking you down? But you added to your crimes virtue. Villany had no part or +lot in you. You were a member of a church, in good and regular standing; you +had graduated with all the honors worth mentioning; you had not a sin, a vice, +or a fault that I knew of; and you were so thoroughly good and repulsive that +you were a great grief to me. Do you think, you dear, disinterested wretch, +that I have forgotten how you were continually putting yourself to horrible +inconveniences on my account? Do you think I am not now filled with remorse for +the aversion that rooted itself ineradicably in my soul, and which now gloats +over you, as you stand in the pillory where my own hands have fastened you? But +can Nature be crushed forever? Did I not ruin my nerves, and seriously injure +my temper, by the overpowering pressure I laid upon them to keep them quiet +when you were by? Could I not, by the sense of coming ill through all my +quivering frame, presage your advent as exactly as the barometer heralds the +approaching storm? Those three months of agony are little atoned for by this +late vengeance: but go in peace!</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mysterious are the ways of friendship. It is not a matter of +reason or of choice, but of magnetisms. You cannot always give the premises nor +the argument, but the conclusion is a palpable and stubborn fact. Abana and Pharpar +may be broad, and deep, and blue, and grand; but only in Jordan shall your soul +wash and be clean. A thousand brooks are born of the sunshine and the +mountains: very, very few are they whose flow can mingle with yours, and not +disturb, but only deepen and broaden the current.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Your friend! Who shall describe him, or worthily paint what +he is to you? No merchant, nor lawyer, nor farmer, nor statesman claims your +suffrage, but a kingly soul. He comes to you from God,—a prophet, a seer, +a revealer. He has a clear vision. His love is reverence. He goes into the <i>penetralia</i> +of your life,—not presumptuously, but with uncovered head, unsandalled +feet, and pours libations at the innermost shrine. His incense is grateful. For +him the sunlight brightens, the skies grow rosy, and all the days are Junes. +Wrapped in his love, you float in a delicious rest, rocked in the bosom of +purple, scented waves. Nameless melodies sing themselves through your heart. A +golden glow suffuses your atmosphere. A vague, fine ecstasy thrills to the +sources of life, and earth lays hold on heaven. Such friendship is worship. It +elevates the most trifling services into rites. The humblest offices are +sanctified. All things are baptized into a new name. Duty is lost in joy. Care +veils itself in caresses. Drudgery becomes delight. There is no longer anything +menial, small, or servile. All is transformed</p> + +<p class=BlockQuote>"Into something rich and strange."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The homely household-ways lead through beds of spices and +orchards of pomegranates. The daily toil among your parsnips and carrots is plucking +May violets with the dew upon them to meet the eyes you love upon their first +awaking. In the burden and heat of the day you hear the rustling of summer +showers and the whispering of summer winds. Everything is lifted up from the +plane of labor to the plane of love, and a glory spans your life. With your +friend, speech and silence are one,—for a communion mysterious and +intangible reaches across from heart to heart. The many dig and delve in your +nature with fruitless toil to find the spring of living water: he only raises +his wand, and, obedient to the hidden power, it bends at once to your secret. +Your friendship, though independent of language, gives to it life and light. +The mystic spirit stirs even in commonplaces, and the merest question is an +endearment. You are quiet because your heart is over-full. You talk because it +is pleasant, not because you have anything to say. You weary of terms that are +already love-laden, and you go out into the highways and hedges, and gather up +the rough, wild, <span lang=EN-GB>wilful</span> words, heavy with the hatreds +of men, and fill them to the brim with honey-dew. All things great and small, +grand or humble, you press into your service, force them to do soldier's duty, +and your banner over them is love.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>With such a friendship, presence alone is happiness; nor is +absence wholly void,—for memories, and hopes, and pleasing fancies +sparkle through the hours, and you know the sunshine will come back.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>For such friendship one is grateful. No matter that it comes +unsought, and comes not for the seeking. You do not discuss the reasonableness +of your gratitude. You only know that your whole being bows with humility and +utter thankfulness to him who thus crowns you monarch of all realms.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And the kingdom is everlasting. A thin, pale love dies weakly +with the occasion that gave it birth; but such friendship is born of the gods, +and is immortal. Clouds and darkness may sweep around it, but within the cloud +the glory lives undimmed. Death has no power over it. Time cannot diminish, nor +even dishonor annul it. Its direction may have been unworthy, but itself is +eternal. You go back into your solitudes: all is silent as aforetime, but you +cannot forget that a Voice once resounded there. A Presence filled the valleys +and gilded the mountain-tops,—breathed upon the plains, and they sprang +up in lilies and roses,—flashed upon the waters, and they flowed to spheral +melody,—swept through the forests, and they, too, trembled into song. And +though now the warmth has faded out, though the ruddy tints and amber clearness +have paled to ashen hues, though the murmuring melodies are dead, and forest, +vale, and hill look hard and angular in the sharp air, you know that it is not +death. The fire is unquenched beneath. You go your way not disconsolate. There +needs but the Victorious Voice. At the touch of the Prince's lips, life shall +rise again and be perfected forevermore.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>THE LIFE OF BIRDS.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When one thinks of a bird, one fancies a soft, swift, +aimless, joyous thing, full of nervous energy and arrowy motions,—a song +with wings. So remote from ours their mode of existence, they seem accidental +exiles from an unknown globe, banished where none can understand their +language; and men only stare at their darting, inexplicable ways, as at the +gyrations of the circus. Watch their little traits for hours, and it only +tantalizes curiosity. Every man's secret is penetrable, if his neighbor be +sharp-sighted. Dickens, for instance, can take a poor condemned wretch, like +Fagin, whose emotions neither he nor his reader has experienced, and can paint +him in colors that seem made of the soul's own atoms, so that each beholder +feels as if he, personally, had been the man. But this bird that hovers and +alights beside me, peers up at me, takes its food, then looks again, +attitudinizing, jerking, flirting its tail, with a thousand inquisitive and +fantastic motions,—although I have power to grasp it in my hand and crush +its life out, yet I cannot gain its secret thus, and the centre of its +consciousness is really farther from mine than the remotest planetary orbit. +"We do not steadily bear in mind," says Darwin, with a noble +scientific humility, "how profoundly ignorant we are of the condition of +existence of every animal."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What "sympathetic penetration" can fathom the +life, for instance, of yonder mysterious, almost voiceless, Humming-Bird, +smallest of feathery things, and loneliest, whirring among birds, insect-like, +and among insects, bird-like, his path untraceable, his home unseen? An image +of airy motion, yet it sometimes seems as if there were nothing joyous in him. +He seems like some exiled pigmy prince, banished, but still regal, and doomed +to wings. Did gems turn to flowers, flowers to feathers, in that long-past +dynasty of the Humming-Birds? It is strange to come upon his tiny nest, in some +gray and tangled swamp, with this brilliant atom perched disconsolately near +it, upon some mossy twig; it is like visiting Cinderella among her ashes. And +from Humming-Bird to Eagle, the daily existence of every bird is a remote and +bewitching mystery.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Pythagoras has been charged, both before and since the days +of Malvolio, with holding that "the soul of our grandam might haply +inhabit a fowl,"—that delinquent men must revisit earth as women, +and delinquent women as birds. Malvolio thought nobly of the soul, and in no +way approved his opinion; but I remember that Harriet <span lang=FR>Rohan</span>, +in her school-days, accepted this, her destiny, with glee. "When I saw the +Oriole," she wrote to me, "from his nest among the plum-trees in the +garden, sail over the air and high above the Gothic arches of the elm, a stream +of flashing light, or watched him swinging silently on pendent twigs, I did not +dream how near akin we were. Or when a Humming-Bird, a winged drop of gorgeous +sheen and gloss, a living gem, poising on his wings, thrust his dark, slender, +honey-seeking bill into the white blossoms of a little bush beside my window, I +should have thought it no such bad thing to be a bird, even if one next became +a <span lang=FR>bat</span>, like the colony in our eaves, that dart and drop +and skim and skurry, all the length of moonless nights, in such ecstasies of +dusky joy." Was this weird creature, the <span lang=FR>bat</span>, in very +truth a bird, in some far primeval time? and does he fancy, in unquiet dreams +at nightfall, that he is one still? I wonder whether he can enjoy the winged +brotherhood into which he has thrust himself,—victim, perhaps, of some +rash quadruped-ambition,—an Icarus doomed forever <i>not</i> to fall.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>I think, that, if required, on pain of death, to name +instantly the most perfect thing in the universe, I should risk my fate on a +bird's egg. There is, first, its exquisite fragility of material, strong only +by the mathematical precision of that form so daintily <span lang=EN-GB>moulded</span>. +There is its absolute purity from external stain, since that thin barrier +remains impassable until the whole is in ruins,—a purity recognized in +the household proverb of "An apple, an egg, and a nut." Then, its +range of tints, so varied, so subdued, and so beautiful,—whether of pure +white, like the Martin's, or pure green, like the Robin's, or dotted and +mottled into the loveliest of browns, like the Red Thrush's, or aqua-marine, +with stains of moss-agate, like the Chipping-Sparrow's, or blotched with long +weird ink-marks on a pale ground, like the Oriole's, as if it bore inscribed +some magic clue to the bird's darting flight and pensile nest. Above all, the +associations and predictions of this little wonder,—that one may bear +home between his fingers all that winged splendor, all that celestial melody, +coiled in mystery within these tiny walls! Even the chrysalis is less amazing, +for its form always preserves some trace, however fantastic, of the perfect +insect, and it is but <span lang=EN-GB>moulting</span> a skin; but this egg +appears to the eye like a separate unit from some other kingdom of Nature, +claiming more kindred with the very stones than with feathery existence; and it +is as if a pearl opened and an angel sang.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The nest which is to contain these fair things is a wondrous +study also, from the coarse masonry of the Robin to the soft structure of the +Humming-Bird, a baby-house among nests. Among all created things, the birds +come nearest to man in their domesticity. Their unions are usually in pairs, +and for life; and with them, unlike the practice of most quadrupeds, the male +labors for the young. He chooses the locality of the nest, aids in its +construction, and fights for it, if needful. He sometimes assists in hatching +the eggs. He feeds the brood with exhausting labor, like yonder Robin, whose +winged picturesque day is spent in putting worms into insatiable beaks, at the +rate of one morsel in every three minutes. He has to teach them to fly, as +among the Swallows, or even to hunt, as among the Hawks. His life is anchored +to his home. Yonder Oriole fills with light and melody the thousand branches of +a neighborhood; and yet the centre for all this divergent splendor is always +that one drooping dome upon one chosen tree. This he helped to build in May, +confiscating cotton as if he were a Union provost-martial, and singing many +songs, with his mouth full of plunder; and there he watches over his household, +all through the leafy June, perched often upon the airy cradle-edge, and +swaying with it in the summer wind. And from this deep nest, after the pretty +eggs are hatched, will he and his mate extract every fragment of the shell, +leaving it, like all other nests, save those of birds of prey, clean and pure, +when the young are flown. This they do chiefly from an instinct of delicacy; +since wood-birds are not wont to use the same nest a second time, even if they +rear several broods in a season.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The subdued tints and notes which almost always mark the +female sex, among birds,—unlike insects and human beings, of which the +female is often more showy than the male,—seem designed to secure their +safety while sitting on the nest, while the brighter colors and louder song of +the male enable his domestic circle to detect his whereabouts more easily. It +is commonly noticed, in the same way, that ground-birds have more neutral tints +than those which build out of reach. With the aid of these advantages, it is +astonishing how well these roving creatures keep their secrets, and what sharp +eyes are needed to spy out their habitations,—while it always seems as if +the empty last-year's nests were very plenty. Some, indeed, are +very elaborately concealed, as of the Golden-Crowned Thrush, called, for this +reason, the Oven-Bird,—the Meadow-Lark, with its burrowed gallery among +the grass,—and the Kingfisher, which mines four feet into the earth. But +most of the rarer nests would hardly be discovered, only that the maternal +instinct seems sometimes so overloaded by Nature as to defeat itself, and the +bird flies and chirps in agony, when she might pass unnoticed by keeping still. +The most marked exception which I have noticed is the Red Thrush, which, in +this respect, as in others, has the most high-bred manners among all our birds: +both male and female sometimes flit in perfect silence through the bushes, and +show solicitude only in a sob which is scarcely audible.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Passing along the shore-path by our lake, one day in June, I +heard a great sound of scuffling and yelping before me, as if dogs were hunting +rabbits or woodchucks. On approaching, I saw no sign of such disturbances, and +presently a Partridge came running at me through the trees, with ruff and tail +expanded, bill wide open, and hissing like a Goose,—then turned suddenly, +and with ruff and tail furled, but with no pretence of lameness, scudded off +through the woods in a circle,—then at me again fiercely, approaching +within two yards, and spreading all her furbelows, to intimidate, as before,—then, +taking in sail, went off again, always at the same rate of speed, yelping like +an angry squirrel, squealing like a pig, occasionally clucking like a hen, and, +in general, so filling the woods with bustle and disturbance that there seemed +no room for anything else. Quite overawed by the display, I stood watching her +for some time, then entered the underbrush, where the little invisible brood +had been unceasingly piping, in their baby way. So motionless were they, that, +for all their noise, I stood with my feet among them, for some minutes, without +finding it possible to detect them. When found and taken from the ground, which +they so closely resembled, they made no attempt to escape; but, when replaced, +they presently ran away fast, as if conscious that the first policy had failed, +and that their mother had retreated. Such is the summer-life of these little +things; but come again in the fall, when the wild autumnal winds go marching +through the woods, and a dozen pairs of strong wings will thrill like thunder +through the arches of the trees, as the full-grown brood whirrs away around +you.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Not only have we scarcely any species of birds which are +thoroughly and unquestionably identical with European species, but there are +certain general variations of habit. For instance, in regard to migration. This +is, of course, a Universal instinct, since even tropical birds migrate for +short distances from the equator, so essential to their existence do these wanderings +seem. But in New England, among birds as among men, the roving habit seems +unusually strong, and abodes are shifted very rapidly. The whole number of +species observed in Massachusetts is about the same as in England,—some +three hundred in all. But of this number, in England, about a hundred +habitually winter on the island, and half that number even in the Hebrides, +some birds actually breeding in Scotland during January and February, +incredible as it may seem. Their habits can, therefore, be observed through a +long period of the year; while with us the bright army comes and encamps for a +month or two and then vanishes. You must attend their dress-parades, while they +last; for you will have but few opportunities, and their domestic life must +commonly be studied during a few weeks of the season, or not at all.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Wonderful as the instinct of migration seems, it is not, +perhaps, so altogether amazing in itself as in some of its attendant details. +To a great extent, birds follow the opening foliage northward, and flee from +its fading, south; they must keep near the food on which they live, and secure +due shelter for their eggs. Our earliest visitors shrink from trusting the bare +trees with their nests; the Song-Sparrow seeks the ground; the Blue-Bird finds +a box or a hole somewhere; the Red-Wing haunts the marshy thickets, safer in +spring than at any other season; and even the sociable Robin prefers a pine-tree +to an apple-tree, if resolved to begin housekeeping prematurely. The movements +of birds are chiefly timed by the advance of vegetation; and the thing most +thoroughly surprising about them is not the general fact of the change of +latitude, but their accuracy in hitting the precise locality. That the same Cat-Bird +should find its way back, every spring, to almost the same branch of yonder +larch-tree,—that is the thing astonishing to me. In England, a lame +Redstart was observed in the same garden for sixteen successive years; and the +astonishing precision of course which enables some birds of small size to fly +from Australia to New Zealand in a day—probably the longest single flight +ever taken—is only a part of the same mysterious instinct of direction.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In comparing modes of flight, the most surprising, of +course, is that of the Swallow tribe, remarkable not merely for its velocity, +but for the amazing boldness and instantaneousness of the angles it makes; so +that eminent European mechanicians have speculated in vain upon the methods +used in its locomotion, and prizes have been offered, by mechanical exhibitions, +to him who could best explain it. With impetuous dash, they sweep through our +perilous streets, these wild hunters of the air, "so near, and yet so +far"; they bathe flying, and flying they feed their young. In my immediate +vicinity, the Chimney-Swallow is not now common, nor the Sand-Swallow; but the +Cliff-Swallow, that strange emigrant from the Far West, the Barn-Swallow, and +the white-breasted species, are abundant, together with the Purple Martin. I +know no prettier sight than a bevy of these bright little creatures, met from a +dozen different farm-houses to picnic at a way-side pool, splashing and +fluttering, with their long wings expanded like butterflies, keeping poised by +a constant hovering motion, just tilting upon their feet, which scarcely touch +the moist ground. You will seldom see them actually perch on anything less airy +than some telegraphic wire; but, when they do alight, each will make chatter +enough for a dozen, as if all the rushing hurry of the wings had passed into +the tongue.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Between the swiftness of the Swallow and the stateliness of +the birds of prey, the whole range of bird-motion seems included. The long wave +of a Hawk's wings seems almost to send a slow vibration through the atmosphere, +tolling upon the eye as yon distant bell upon the ear. I never was more +impressed with the superior dignity of these soarings than in observing a +bloodless contest in the air, last April. Standing beside a little grove, on a +rocky hill-side, I heard Crows cawing near by, and then a sound like great +flies buzzing, which I really attributed, for a moment, to some early insect. +Turning, I saw two Crows flapping their heavy wings among the trees, and +observed that they were teasing a Hawk about as large as themselves, which was +also on the wing. Presently all three had risen above the branches, and were +circling higher and higher in a slow spiral. The Crows kept constantly swooping +at their enemy, with the same angry buzz, one of the two taking decidedly the +lead. They seldom struck at him with their beaks, but kept lumbering against +him, and flapping him with their wings, as if in a fruitless effort to capsize +him; while the Hawk kept carelessly eluding the assaults, now inclining on one +side, now on the other, with a stately grace, never retaliating, but seeming +rather to enjoy the novel amusement, as if it were a skirmish in balloons. +During all this, indeed, he scarcely seemed once to wave his wings; yet he +soared steadily aloft, till the Crows refused to follow, though already higher +than I ever saw Crows before, dim against the fleecy sky; then the Hawk flew +northward, but soon after he sailed over us once again, with loud, scornful <i>chirr</i>, +and they only cawed, and left him undisturbed.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>When we hear the tumult of music from these various artists +of the air, it seems as if the symphony never could be analyzed into its +different instruments. But with time and patience it is not so difficult; nor +can we really enjoy the performance, so long as it is only a confused chorus to +our ears. It is not merely the highest form of animal language, but, in +strictness of etymology, the only form, if it be true, as is claimed, that no +other animal employs its tongue, <i>lingua</i>, in producing sound. In the +Middle Ages, the song of birds was called their Latin, as was any other foreign +dialect. It was the old German superstition, that any one who should eat the +heart of a bird would thenceforth comprehend its language; and one modern +philologist of the same nation (Masius declares) has so far studied the sounds +produced by domestic fowls as to announce a Goose-Lexicon. Dupont de Nemours +asserted that he understood eleven words of the Pigeon language, the same +number of that of Fowls, fourteen of the Cat tongue, twenty-two of that of +Cattle, thirty of that of Dogs, and the Raven language he understood +completely. But the ordinary observer seldom attains farther than to comprehend +some of the cries of anxiety and fear around him, often so unlike the +accustomed carol of the bird,—as the mew of the Cat-Bird, the lamb-like +bleating of the Veery and his impatient <i>yeoick</i>, the <i>chaip</i> of the +Meadow-Lark, the <i>towyee</i> of the Chewink, the petulant <i>psit</i> and <i>tsee</i> +of the Red-Winged Blackbird, and the hoarse cooing of the Bobolink. And with +some of our most familiar birds the variety of notes is so great as really to +promise difficulties in the American department of the bird-lexicon. I have +watched two Song-Sparrows, perched near each other, in whom the spy-glass could +show not the slightest difference of marking, even in the characteristic stains +upon the breast, who yet chanted to each other, for fifteen minutes, over and +over, two elaborate songs which had nothing in common. I have observed a +similar thing in two Wood-Sparrows, with their sweet, distinct, accelerating +lay; nor can I find it stated that the difference is sexual. Who can claim to +have heard the whole song of the Robin? Taking shelter from a shower beneath an +oak-tree, the other day, I caught a few of the notes which one of those cheery +creatures, who love to sing in wet weather, tossed down to me through the +drops.</p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(Before noticing me,) <i>chirrup, cheerup</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(pausing in alarm, at my approach,) <i><span +lang=ES-TRAD>che</span>, </i><i><span lang=ES-TRAD>che</span>, </i><i><span +lang=ES-TRAD>che</span>;</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(broken presently by a thoughtful strain,) <i>caw, caw,</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(then softer and more confiding,) <i>see, see, +see;</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(then the original note, in a whisper,) <i>chirrup, cheerup;</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(often broken by a soft note,) <i>see, wee;</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(and an odder one,) <i>squeal;</i></p> + +<p class=TablePlainText>(and a mellow note,) <i>tweedle.</i></p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>And all these were mingled with more complex combinations, +and with half-imitations, as of the Blue-Bird, so that it seemed almost +impossible to doubt that there was some specific meaning, to him and his peers, +in this endless vocabulary. Yet other birds, as quick-witted as the Robins, +possess but one or two chirping notes, to which they seem unable to give more +than the very rudest variation of accent.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The controversy between the singing-birds of Europe and America +has had various phases and influential disputants. <span lang=FR>Buffon</span> +easily convinced himself that our Thrushes had no songs, because the voices of +all birds grew harsh in savage countries, such as he naturally held this +continent to be. Audubon, on the other hand, relates that even in his childhood +he was assured by his father that the American songsters were the best, though +neither Americans nor Europeans could be convinced of it. MacGillivray, the +Scottish naturalist, reports that Audubon himself, in conversation, arranged +our vocalists in the following order:—first, the Mocking-Bird, as +unrivalled; then, the Wood-Thrush, Cat-Bird, and Red Thrush; the Rose-Breasted, +Pine, and Blue Grosbeak; the Orchard and Golden Oriole; the Tawny and Hermit +Thrushes; several Finches,—Bachmann's, the White-Crowned, the Indigo, and +the Nonpareil; and finally, the Bobolink.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Among those birds of this list which frequent Massachusetts, +Audubon might well put the Wood-Thrush at the head. As I sat the other day in +the deep woods beside a black brook which dropped from stone to stone beneath +the shadow of our Rattlesnake Rocks, the air seemed at first as silent above me +as the earth below. The buzz of summer sounds had not begun. Sometimes a bee +hummed by with a long swift thrill like a chord of music; sometimes a breeze +came resounding up the forest like an approaching locomotive, and then died +utterly away. Then, at length, a <span lang=FR>Veery's</span> delicious note +rose in a fountain of liquid melody from beneath me; and when it was ended, the +clear, calm, interrupted chant of the Wood-Thrush fell like solemn water-drops +from some source above—I am acquainted with no sound in Nature so sweet, +so elevated, so serene. Flutes and flageolets are Art's poor efforts to recall +that softer sound. It is simple, and seems all prelude; but the music to which +it is the overture must belong to other spheres. It might be the <i>Angelus</i> +of some lost convent. It might be the meditation of some maiden-hermit, saying +over to herself in solitude, with recurrent tuneful pauses, the only song she +knows. Beside this soliloquy of seraphs, the carol of the Veery seems a +familiar and almost domestic thing; yet it is so charming that Audubon must +have designed to include it among the Thrushes whose merits he proclaims.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But the range of musical perfection is a wide one; and if +the standard of excellence be that wondrous brilliancy and variety of execution +suggested by the Mocking-Bird, then the palm belongs, among our New-England +songsters, to the Red Thrush, otherwise called the Mavis or Brown Thrasher. I +have never heard the Mocking-Bird sing at liberty; and while the caged bird may +surpass the Red Thrush in volume of voice and in quaintness of direct +imitation, he gives me no such impression of depth and magnificence. I know not +how to describe the voluble and fantastic notes which fall like pearls and diamonds +from the beak of our Mavis, while his stately attitudes and high-born bearing +are in full harmony with the song. I recall the steep, bare hill-side, and the +two great boulders which guard the lonely grove, where I first fully learned +the wonder of this lay, as if I had met Saint Cecilia there. A thoroughly happy +song, overflowing with life, it gives even its most familiar phrases an air of +gracious condescension, as when some great violinist stoops to the +"Carnival of Venice." The Red Thrush does not, however, consent to +any parrot-like mimicry, though every note of wood or field—Oriole, +Bobolink, Crow, Jay, Robin, Whippoorwill—appears to pass in veiled +procession through the song.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Retain the execution of the Red Thrush, but hopelessly +impair his organ, and you have the Cat-Bird. This accustomed visitor would seem +a gifted vocalist, but for the inevitable comparison between his thinner note +and the gushing melodies of the lordlier bird. Is it some hopeless +consciousness of this disadvantage which leads him to pursue that peculiar +habit of singing softly to himself very often, in a fancied seclusion? When +other birds are cheerily out-of-doors, on some bright morning of May or June, +one will often discover a solitary Cat-Bird sitting concealed in the middle of +a dense bush, and twittering busily, in subdued rehearsal, the whole copious +variety of his lay, <span lang=EN-GB>practising</span> trills and preparing +half-imitations, which, at some other time, sitting on the topmost twig, he +shall hilariously seem to improvise before all the world. Can it be that he is +really in some slight disgrace with Nature, with that <span lang=FR>demi</span>-mourning +garb of his,—and that his feline cry of terror, which makes his +opprobrium with boys, is part of some hidden doom decreed? No, the lovely color +of the eggs which his companion watches on that laboriously builded staging of +twigs shall vindicate this familiar companion from any suspicion of original +sin. Indeed, it is well demonstrated by our American oölogist, Dr. Brewer, that +the eggs of the Cat-Bird affiliate him with the Robin and the Wood-Thrush, all +three being widely separated in this respect from the Red Thrush. The Red +Thrush builds on the ground, and has mottled eggs; while the whole household +establishment of the Wood-Thrush is scarcely distinguishable from that of the +Robin, and the Cat-Bird differs chiefly in being more of a carpenter and less +of a mason.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, which Audubon places so high on +his list of minstrels, comes annually to one region in this vicinity, but I am +not sure of having heard it. The young Pine Grosbeaks come to our woods in +winter, and have then but a subdued twitter. Every one knows the Bobolink; and +almost all recognize the Oriole, by sight at least, even if unfamiliar with all +the notes of his cheery and resounding song. The Red-Eyed Flycatcher, heard +even more constantly, is less generally identified by name; but his note sounds +all day among the elms of our streets, and seems a sort of piano-adaptation, +popularized for the million, of the rich notes of the Thrushes. He is not +mentioned by Audubon among his favorites, and has no right to complain of the +exclusion. Yet the birds which most endear summer are not necessarily the +finest performers; and certainly there is none whose note I could spare less +easily than the little Chipping-Sparrow, called hereabouts the Hair-Bird. To <span +lang=FR>lie</span> half-awake on a warm morning in June, and hear that soft +insect-like chirp draw in and out with long melodious pulsations, like the +rising and falling of the human breath, condenses for my ear the whole luxury +of summer. Later in the day, among the multiplicity of noises, the chirping +becomes louder and more detached, losing that faint and dream-like thrill.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The bird-notes which have the most familiar fascination are +perhaps simply those most intimately associated with other rural things. This +applies especially to the earliest spring songsters. Listening to these +delicious prophets upon some of those still and moist days which slip in +between the rough winds of March and fill our lives for a moment with +anticipated delights, it has seemed to me that their varied notes were sent to +symbolize all the different elements of spring association. The Blue-Bird seems +to represent simply spring's faint, tremulous, liquid sweetness, the Song-Sparrow +its changing pulsations of more positive and varied joy, and the Robin its +cheery and superabundant vitality. The later birds of the season, suggesting no +such fine-drawn sensations, yet identify themselves with their chosen haunts, +so that we cannot think of the one without the other. In the meadows, we hear +the languid and tender drawl of the Meadow-Lark,—one of the most peculiar +of notes, almost amounting to affectation in its excess of laborious sweetness. +When we reach the thickets and wooded streams, there is no affectation in the +Maryland Yellow-Throat, that little restless busybody, with his eternal <i>which-is-it, +which-is-it, which-is-it</i>, emphasizing each syllable at will, in despair of +response. Passing into the loftier woods, we find them resounding with the loud +proclamation of the Golden-Crowned Thrush,—<i>scheat, scheat, scheat, scheat</i>,—rising +and growing louder in a vigorous way that rather suggests some great Woodpecker +than such a tiny thing. And penetrating to some yet lonelier place, we find it +consecrated to that life-long sorrow, whatever it may be, which is made +immortal in the plaintive cadence of the Pewee.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>There is one favorite bird,—the Chewink, or Ground-Robin,—which, +I always fancied, must have been known to Keats when he wrote those few words +of perfect descriptiveness,—</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4 style='margin-top:6.0pt'> "If an innocent bird</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4>Before my heedless footsteps <i>stirred and stirred</i></p> + +<p class=PoemIndent4><i>In little journeys</i>."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>What restless spirit is in this creature, that, while so shy +in its own personal habits, it yet watches every visitor with a Paul-Pry +curiosity, follows him in the woods, peers out among the underbrush, scratches +upon the leaves with a pretty pretence of important business there, and +presently, when disregarded, ascends some small tree and begins to carol its +monotonous song, as if there were no such thing as man in the universe? There +is something irregular and fantastic in the coloring, also, of the Chewink: +unlike the generality of ground-birds, it is a showy thing, with black, white, +and bay intermingled, and it is one of the most unmistakable of all our +feathery creatures, in its aspect and its ways.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Another of my favorites, perhaps from our sympathy as to +localities, since we meet freely every summer at a favorite lake, is the King-Bird +or Tyrant-Flycatcher. The habits of royalty or tyranny I have never been able +to perceive,—only a democratic habit of resistance to tyrants; but this +bird always impresses me as a perfectly well-dressed and well-mannered person, +who amid a very talkative society prefers to listen, and shows his character by +action only. So long as he sits silently on some stake or bush in the +neighborhood of his family-circle, you notice only his glossy black cap and the +white feathers in his handsome tail; but let a Hawk or a Crow come near, and +you find that he is something more than a mere lazy listener to the Bobolink: +far up in the air, determined to be thorough in his chastisements, you will see +him, with a comrade or two, driving the bulky intruder away into the distance, +till you wonder how he ever expects to find his own way back again. He speaks +with emphasis, on these occasions, and then reverts, more sedately than ever, +to his accustomed silence.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>After all the great labors of Audubon and Wilson, it is +certain that the recent visible progress of American ornithology has by no +means <span lang=EN-GB>equalled</span> that of several other departments of +Natural History. The older books are now out of print, and there is actually no +popular treatise on the subject to be had: a destitution singularly contrasted +with the variety of excellent botanical works which the last twenty years have +produced. <span lang=FR>Nuttall's</span> fascinating volumes, and Brewer's +edition of Wilson, are equally inaccessible; and the most valuable +contributions since their time, so far as I know, are that portion of Dr. +Brewer's work on eggs printed in the eleventh volume of the "Smithsonian +Contributions," and four admirable articles in this very magazine.<a +href="#_edn14" name="_ednref14" title=""><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[14]</span></span></span></a> +But the most important observations are locked up in the desks or exhibited in +the cabinets of private observers, who have little opportunity of comparing +facts with other students, or with reliable printed authorities. What do we +know, for instance, of the local distribution of our birds? I remember that in +my latest conversation with Thoreau, last December, he mentioned most +remarkable facts in this department, which had fallen under his unerring eyes. +The Hawk most common at Concord, the Red-Tailed species, is not known near the +sea-shore, twenty miles off,—as at Boston or Plymouth. The White-Breasted +Sparrow is rare in Concord; but the Ashburnham woods, thirty miles away, are +full of it. The Scarlet Tanager's is the commonest note in Concord, except the +Red-Eyed Flycatcher's; yet one of the best field-ornithologists in Boston had +never heard it. The Rose-Breasted Grosbeak is seen not infrequently at Concord, +though its nest is rarely found; but in Minnesota Thoreau found it more +abundant than any other bird, far more so than the Robin. But his most +interesting statement, to my fancy, was, that, during a stay of ten weeks on Monadnock, +he found that the Snow-Bird built its nest on the top of the mountain, and +probably never came down through the season. That was its Arctic; and it would +probably yet be found, he predicted, on Wachusett and other Massachusetts peaks. +It is known that the Snow-Bird, or "Snow-Flake," as it is called in +England, was reported by Audubon as having only once been proved to build in +the United States, namely, among the White Mountains, though Wilson found its +nests among the Alleghanies; and in New England it used to be the rural belief +that the Snow-Bird and the Chipping-Sparrow were the same.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>After July, most of our birds grow silent, and, but for the +insects, August would be almost the stillest month in the year,—stiller +than the winter, when the woods are often vocal with the Crow, the Jay, and the +Chickadee. But with patient attention one may hear, even far into the autumn, +the accustomed notes. As I sat in my boat, one sunny afternoon of last +September, beneath the shady western shore of our quiet lake, with the low +sunlight striking almost level across the wooded banks, it seemed as if the +last hoarded drops of summer's sweetness were being poured over all the world. +The air was full of quiet sounds. Turtles rustled beside the brink and slid +into the water,—cows plashed in the shallows,—fishes leaped from +the placid depths,—a squirrel sobbed and fretted on a neighboring stump,—a +katydid across the lake maintained its hard, dry croak,—the crickets +chirped pertinaciously, but with little fatigued pauses, as if glad that their +work was almost done,—the grasshoppers kept up their continual chant, +which seemed thoroughly melted and amalgamated into the summer, as if it would +go on indefinitely, though the body of the little creature were dried into +dust. All this time the birds were silent and invisible, as if they would take +no more part in the symphony of the year. Then, as if by preconcerted signal, +they joined in: Crows cawed anxiously afar; Jays screamed in the woods; a +Partridge clucked to its brood, like the gurgle of water from a bottle; a +Kingfisher wound his rattle, more briefly than in spring, as if we now knew all +about it and the merest hint ought to suffice; a Fish-Hawk flapped into the +water, with a great rude splash, and then flew heavily away; a flock of Wild +Ducks went southward overhead, and a smaller party returned beneath them, +flying low and anxiously, as if to pick up some lost baggage; and, at last, a +Loon laughed loud from behind a distant island, and it was pleasant to people +these woods and waters with that wild shouting, linking them with Katahdin Lake +and Amperzand.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But the later the birds linger in the autumn, the more their +aspect differs from that of spring. In spring, they come, jubilant, noisy, +triumphant, from the South, the winter conquered and the long journey done. In +autumn, they come timidly from the North, and, pausing on their anxious +retreat, lurk within the fading copses and twitter snatches of song as fading. +Others fly as openly as ever, but gather in flocks, as the Robins, most piteous +of all birds at this season,—thin, faded, ragged, their bold note sunk to +a feeble quaver, and their manner a mere caricature of that inexpressible +military smartness with which they held up their heads in May.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Yet I cannot really find anything sad even in November. When +I think of the thrilling beauty of the season past, the birds that came and +went, the insects that took up the choral song as the birds grew silent, the +procession of the flowers, the glory of autumn,—and when I think, that, +this also ended, a new gallery of wonder is opening, almost more beautiful, in +the magnificence of frost and snow, there comes an impression of affluence and +liberality in the universe, which seasons of changeless and uneventful verdure +would never give. The catkins already formed on the alder, quite prepared to +droop into April's beauty,—the white edges of the May-flower's petals, +already visible through the bud, show in advance that winter is but a slight +and temporary retardation of the life of Nature, and that the barrier which +separates November from March is not really more solid than that which parts +the sunset from the sunrise.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>THE NEW OPPOSITION PARTY.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In the rapid alternations of opinion produced by the varying +incidents of the present war, a few days effect the work of centuries. We may +therefore be pardoned for giving an antique coloring to an event of recent +occurrence. Accordingly we say, once upon a time, (Tuesday, July 1, 1862) a great popular convention of all who loved the Constitution and the Union, and all who +hated "niggers," was called in the city of New York. The place of +meeting was the Cooper Institute, and among the signers to the call were +prominent business and professional men of that great metropolis. At this meeting, +that eminently calm and learned jurist, the Honorable W.A. Duer, interrupted +the course of an elaborate argument for the constitutional rights of the +Southern rebels by a melodramatic exclamation, that, if we hanged the traitors +of the country in the order of their guilt, "the next man who marched upon +the scaffold after Jefferson Davis would be Charles Sumner."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The professed object of the meeting was to form a party +devoted to the support of "the Constitution as it is and the Union as it +was." Its practical effect was to give the Confederates and foreign powers +a broad hint that the North was no longer a unit. The coincidence of the +meeting with the Federal reverses before Richmond made its professed object all +the more ridiculous. The babbling and bawling of the speakers about "the +rights of the South," and "the infamous Abolitionists who disgraced +Congress," were but faint echoes of the Confederate cannon which had just +ceased to carry death into the Union ranks. Both the speeches and the cannon spoke +hostility to the National Cause. The number of the dead, wounded, +"missing," and demoralized members of the great Army of the Potomac +exceeded, on that Tuesday evening, any army which the United States had ever, +before the present war, arrayed on any battle-field. Jefferson Davis, on that +evening, was safer at Richmond than Abraham Lincoln was at Washington. A well-grounded +apprehension, not only for the "Union," but for the safety of loyal +States, was felt on that evening all over the North and West. It was, in fact, +the darkest hour in the whole annals of the Republic. Even the authorities at Washington +feared that the Army of the Potomac was destroyed. This was exactly the time +for the Honorable Mr. Wickliffe and the Honorable Mr. Brooks, for the Honorable +W. A. Duer and the Honorable Fernando Wood, to delight the citizens of New York +with their peculiar eloquence. This was the appropriate occasion to stand up +for the persecuted and down-trodden South! This was the grand opportunity to +assert the noble principle, that, by the Constitution, every traitor had the +right to be tried by a jury of traitors! This was the time to dishonor all the New + England dead! This was the time to denounce the living worthies of New England! +Hang Jeff. Davis? Oh, yes! We all know that he is secure behind his triumphant +slayers of the real defenders of the Constitution and the Union. Neither +hangman nor Major-General can get near <i>him</i>. But Charles Sumner is in our +power. We can hang him easily. He has not two or four hundred thousand men at +his back. He travels alone and unattended. Do we want a constitutional +principle for combining the two men in one act of treason? Here is a calm +jurist,—here, gentlemen of the party of the Constitution and the Laws, is +the Honorable W. A. Duer. What does he say? Simply this: "Hang Jeff. Davis +and Charles Sumner." Davis we cannot hang, but Sumner we can. Let us take +one-half of his advice; circumstances prevent us from availing ourselves of the +whole. There is, to be sure, no possibility of hanging Charles Sumner under any +law known to us, the especial champions of the laws. But what then? Don't you +see the Honorable W. A. Duer appeals, in this especial case, to "the +higher law" of the mob? Don't you see that he desires to shield Jeff. Davis +by weaving around his august person all the fine cobwebs of the Law, while he +proposes to have Sumner hanged on "irregular" principles, unknown to +the jurisprudence of Marshall and Kent?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But enough for the New York meeting. It was of no +importance, except as indicating the existence, and giving a blundering +expression to the objects, of one of the most malignant and unpatriotic +factions which this country has ever seen. The faction is led by a few cold-blooded +politicians universally known as the meanest sycophants of the South and the +most impudent bullies of the North; but they have contrived to array on their +side a considerable number of honest and well-meaning dupes by a dexterous +appeal to conservative prejudice and conservative passion, so that hundreds +serve their ends who would feel contaminated by their companionship. Never +before has Respectability so blandly consented to become the mere instrument +and tool of Rascality. The rogues trust to inaugurate treason and anarchy under +the pretence of being the special champions of the Constitution and the Laws. +Their real adherents are culled from the most desperate and dishonest portions +of our population. They can hardly indite a leading article, or make a stump +speech, without showing their proclivities to mob-law. To be sure, if a known +traitor is informally arrested, they rave about the violation of the rights of +the citizen; but they think Lynch-law is good enough for +"Abolitionists." If a General is assailed as being over prudent and +cautious in his operations against the common enemy, they immediately laud him +as a Hannibal, a Caesar, and a Napoleon; they assume to be his special friends +and admirers; they adjure him to persevere in what they conceive to be his +policy of inaction; and, as he is a great master in strategy, they hint that +his best strategic movement would be a movement, <i><span lang=FR>à</span> la</i> +Cromwell, on the Abolitionized Congress of the United States. Disunion, +anarchy, the violation of all law, the appeal to the lowest and fiercest +impulses of the most ignorant portions of the Northern people,—these +constitute the real stock-in-trade of "the Hang-Jeff.-Davis-and-Charles-Sumner" +party; but the thing is so managed, that, formally, this party appears as the +special champion of the Union, the Constitution, and the Laws.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Those politicians who personally dislike the present holders +of political power, those politicians who think that the measures of +confiscation and emancipation passed by the Congress which has just adjourned +are both unjust and impolitic, unconsciously slide into the aiders and abettors +of the knaves they individually despise and distrust. The "radicals" +must, they say, at all events, be checked; and they lazily follow the lead of +the rascals. The rascals intend to ruin the country. But then they propose to +do it in a constitutional way. The only thing, it seems, that a lawyer and a +jurist can consider is Form. If the country is dismembered, if all its +defenders are slain, if the Southern Confederacy is triumphant, not only at +Richmond, but at Washington and New York, if eight millions of people beat +twenty millions, and the greatest of all democracies ignominiously succumbs to +the basest of all aristocracies, the true patriots will still have the +consolation, that the defeat, the "damned defeat," occurred under the +strictest forms of Law. Better that ten Massachusetts soldiers should be killed +than that one negro should be illegally freed! Better that Massachusetts should +be governed by Jeff. Davis than that it should be represented by such men as +Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson, notoriously hostile to the constitutional +rights of the South! Subjection, in itself, is bad; but the great American idea +of local governments for local purposes, and a general government for general +purposes, still, thank God! may survive it. To be sure, we may be beaten and +enslaved, The rascals, renegades, and <span lang=FR>liberticides</span> may +gain their object. This object we shall ever contemn. But if they gain it +fairly, under the forms of the Constitution, it is the duty of all good citizens +to submit. Our Southern opponents, we acknowledge, committed some +"irregularities"; but nobody can assert, that, in dealing with them, +we deviated, by a hair's-breadth, from the powers intrusted to the Government +by the Fathers of the Republic. While the country is convulsed by a rebellion +unprecedented in the whole history of the world, we are compelled by our +principles to look upon it as lawyers, and not as statesmen. We apply to it the +same principles which our venerated forefathers applied to Shay's Rebellion in Massachusetts +and the Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. To be sure, the +"circumstances" are different; but we need not remind the +philanthropic inhabitants of our section of the country, that "principles +are eternal." We judge the existing case by these eternal principles. We +may fail, and fail ignominiously; but, in our failure, nobody can say that we +violated any sacred form of the ever-glorious Constitution of the United States. +The Constitution has in it no provisions to secure its own existence by +unconstitutional means. It is therefore our duty, as lawyers as well as +legislators, to allow the gentlemen who have repudiated it, because they were +defeated in an election, to enjoy all its benefits. That they do not seem to +appreciate these benefits, but shoot, in a shockingly "irregular" +manner, all who insist on imposing on them its blessings, furnishes no reason +why we should partake in their guilt by violating its provisions. It is true +that the Government established by the Constitution may fall by a strict +adherence to our notions of the Constitution; but even in that event we shall +have the delicious satisfaction of contemplating it in memory as a beautiful +idea, after it has ceased to exist as a palpable fact. As the best constitution +ever devised by human wisdom, we shall always find a more exquisite delight in +meditating on the mental image of its perfect features than in enjoying the +practical blessings of any other Government which may be established after it +is dead and gone; and our feeling regarding it can be best expressed in the +words in which the lyric poet celebrates his loyalty to the soul of the +departed object of his affection:—</p> + +<p class=Poemnewstanza>"Though many a gifted mind we meet,</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>And fairest forms we see,</p> + +<p class=Poem>To live with them is far less sweet</p> + +<p class=PoemIndent2>Than to remember thee!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is fortunate both for our safety and the safety of the +Constitution, that these politico-sentimental gentlemen represent only a +certain theory of the Constitution, and not the Constitution itself. Their +leading defect is an incapacity to adjust their profound legal intellects to +the altered circumstances of the country. Any child in political knowledge is +competent to give them this important item of political information,—that +by no constitution of government ever devised by human morality and +intelligence were the rights of rascals so secured as to give them the +privilege of trampling on the rights of honest men. Any child in political +knowledge is competent to inform them of this fundamental fact, underlying all +laws and constitutions,—that, if a miscreant attempts to cut your throat, +you may resist him by all the means which your strength and his weakness place +in your power. Any child in political knowledge is further competent to furnish +them with this additional bit of wisdom,—that every constitution of +government provides, under the war-power it confers, against its own overthrow +by rebels and by enemies. If rebels rise to the dignity and exert the power of +enemies, they can be proceeded against both as rebels and as enemies. As +rebels, the Government is bound to give them all the securities which the +Constitution may guaranty to traitors. As enemies, the Government is restricted +only by the vast and vague "rights of war," of which its own military +necessities must be the final judge.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"But," say the serene thinkers and scholars whom +the rogues use as mouthpieces, "our object is simply to defend the +Constitution. We do not believe that the Government has any of the so-called +'rights of war' against the rebels. If Jefferson Davis has committed the crime +of treason, he has the same right to be tried by a jury of the district in +which his alleged crime was committed that a murderer has to be tried by a +similar jury. We know that Mr. Davis, in case the rebellion is crushed, will +not only be triumphantly acquitted, but will be sent to Congress as Senator +from Mississippi. This is mortifying in itself, but it still is a beautiful +illustration of the merits of our admirable system of government. It enables +the South to play successfully the transparent game of 'Heads I win, tails you +lose,' and so far must be reckoned bad. But this evil is counterbalanced by so +many blessings, that nobody but a miserable Abolitionist will think of +objecting to the arrangement. We, on the whole, agree with the traitors, whose +designs we lazily aid, in thinking that Jeff. Davis and Charles Sumner are +equally guilty, in a fair estimate of the causes of our present misfortunes. +Hang both, we say; and we say it with an inward confidence that neither will be +hanged, if the true principles of the Constitution be carried out."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The political rogues and the class of honest men we have +referred to are, therefore, practically associated in one party to oppose the +present Government. The rogues lead; the honest men follow. If this new party +succeeds, we shall have the worst party in power that the country has ever +known. Buchanan as President, and Floyd as Secretary of War, were bad enough. +But Buchanan and Floyd had no large army to command, no immense material of war +to direct. As far as they could, they worked mischief, and mischief only. But +their means were limited. The Administration which will succeed that of Abraham +Lincoln will have under its control one of the largest and ablest armies and +navies in the world. Every general and every admiral will be compelled to obey +the orders of the Administration. If the Administration be in the hands of +secret traitors, the immense military and naval power of the country will be +used for its own destruction. A compromise will be patched up with the Rebel +States. The leaders of the rebellion will be invited back to their old seats of +power. A united South combined with a Pro-slavery faction in the North will +rule the nation. And all this enormous evil will be caused by the simplicity of +honest men in falling into the trap set for them by traitors and rogues.</p> + +<p class=Chapter>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><i>The Tariff-Question, considered in Regard to the Policy +of England and the Interests of the United States; with Statistical, and Comparative +Tables</i>. By ERASTUS B. BIGELOW. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co. 4to.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Under this modest title, the American public is presented +with a work of uncommon research, and of great practical utility and value. Its +author is well known as a skilful and most successful inventor, in whose +admirable power-looms nearly all the carpets of the world are now woven. On the +subject of manufactures few can speak with more authority, whether in reference +to its general bearings or its minute details. The work before us affords ample +proof of his ability to discuss one of the most important questions in +political economy.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The hundred pages of text are followed by two hundred and +thirty-four pages of tabular statistics. This large and well-arranged body of +invaluable information, though styled an appendix, was, in fact, the precursor +of the argument, and constitutes the solid base on which it rests. These tables +are "not mere copies or abstracts, but the result of labored and careful +selection, comparison, and combination." In this treasury of facts, +derived for the most part from official records, the commercial and industrial +interests of the United States and of England, especially, are presented in all +their most important aspects and relations. The amount of information here +given is immense; and knowing, as we do, the scrupulous care of the collector, +we cannot doubt its accuracy. Independently of its connection with the author's +argument, this feature of the work cannot fail to give it value and a permanent +place in every library, office, counting-room, and workshop of the country.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>In his discussion of the tariff question, Mr. Bigelow +assumes it as a settled principle of national policy that revenue should be +raised by duties on imports. To clear the ground from ambiguity, he states +exactly what he means when he uses the terms "free-trade" and +"protection," and then proceeds to describe and explain the tariff-policy +of Great Britain. Not without good reason does he give this prominence to the +action of that great power. It is not merely that England stands at the head of +manufacturing and commercial nations, or that our business-connections with her +are intimate and extensive. The fact which makes English policy so important an +element in the discussion is found in the persistent and too often successful +efforts of that country to shape American opinion and legislation on questions +of manufacture and trade. Nowhere else have we seen the utter fallacy of the +free-trade argument, as urged by Great Britain on other countries upon the +strength of her own successful example, so clearly shown. The nature, object, +extent, and motive of the tariff-reforms effected by Sir Robert Peel and Mr. +Gladstone are made plain, not only by the quoted explanations of those +statesmen, but by statistical facts and figures. Until she had carried her +manufactures to a height of prosperity where competition could no longer touch +them, England was, of all nations, the most protective. Then she became of a +sudden wondrously liberal. Her protective laws were abolished, and, with a +mighty show of generosity, she opened her ports to the commerce of the world. +Foreign producers were magnanimously told that they could send their goods +freely into England at a time when English manufactures were underselling and +supplanting theirs in their own markets. The sacrifice of duties actually made +by England on foreign manufactures, and which she paraded before the world as a +reason why other nations should imitate and reciprocate her action, amounted, +as we learn from the work before us, to this immense annual sum of two hundred +and eighteen thousand dollars, being "less than one-fourth part of the tax +which Englishmen annually pay for the privilege of keeping their dogs!"</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>It is true that the exports and trade of England have +increased with extraordinary rapidity since 1853, and that the free-trade +economists of that country ascribe this great prosperity in large degree to +their alleged reforms. That they have no good ground for such a representation +is shown conclusively by Mr. Bigelow. During the same period, France, with high +protection, and the United States, with moderate protection, made equal or even +greater advances. The causes of this increased prosperity must, therefore, have +been general in their nature and influence. The progress of invention and +discovery, and the increased supply of gold, are mentioned by the author as +among the most efficient.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>The immense extent and vast importance of English +manufactures, and especially of the cotton-manufacture, are fully unfolded, and +we cannot wonder at the earnest and unceasing efforts of that country to +preserve and to extend this great interest. This necessity is strikingly +evinced in the section on "The Dependent Condition of England." We +can only allude to this part of the argument, as full of striking suggestions, +and as showing that in some very important respects England is the most +dependent of all countries, and that the continued maintenance of her life and +power rests on the maintenance of her manufacturing supremacy. In the section +headed "Efforts of England to extend her Manufactures," we have some +curious and instructive history, and we specially commend this part of the work +to those who have been accustomed to lend a willing ear to British talk on the +subjects of protection and free-trade.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Mr. Bigelow devotes a short, but graphic and comprehensive, +section to the "Condition and Resources of the United States." +"The Tariffs of the United States," their merits and defects, are +briefly considered. His "Reasons in Favor of a Protective Policy" +leave, as it seems to us, very little to be said on the other side. From a +multitude of passages which we have been tempted to quote, we select the +following, as a not unfavorable specimen of the work:—</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"War is an evil to which we are always liable, and +shall continue to be liable, until the Millennium comes. With reference to this +always existent danger, no nation which is not willing to be trampled on can +safely take its position on Quaker ground. That the possible event may not find +us unprepared, we build fortresses and war-ships, and maintain armies and +artillery at vast expense. No one but the mere visionary denies the propriety +or the necessity of this. Yet it is demonstrable that a nation about to be +involved in war will find a well-developed industrial and productive power of +more real value than any or than all of the precautionary measures above +mentioned; since, without such power, neither forts nor armies can long be +sustained.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"It is obvious that the doctrine of free-trade (I mean, +of course, genuine free-trade, and not the British counterfeit) ignores the +probability, if not, indeed, the possibility of war. Could peace, perpetual and +universal, be guarantied to the world, the argument against protection would +possess a degree of strength, which, as things now are, does not and cannot +belong to it. May it not be well for us to consider, whether, on the whole, we +can do better than to take things as they are, by conforming our national +policy, not to an imaginary era of universal peace and philanthropy, but to the +hard and selfish world in which we happen to live?</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>"Lest this remark should be misinterpreted, I disclaim +all intent to intimate that men acting in communities are released from those +obligations of morality and justice which bind them as individuals. As +civilization advances and mankind become more enlightened and virtuous, the +beneficial change cannot fail to show itself in the public councils of the +world, and in the kinder and broader spirit that will animate and control the +intercourse of nations. Meanwhile, let us not expect to find in collective +humanity the disinterested goodness which is so rarely exhibited by the +individual members. Let us rather assume that other nations will act, in the +main, on selfish principles; and let us shape our own course as a nation in +accordance with that presumption. Few, I think, will call this uncharitable, +when they recall to mind our own experience during the year past. Why were so +many among us surprised and disappointed at the course pursued by the English, +generally, in reference to our domestic difficulties? Simply because they +forgot, that, with the mass of mankind, self-interest is a far stronger motive +than philanthropy. That England should sympathize, even in the slightest +degree, with a rebellious conspiracy against a kindred and friendly nation,—a +conspiracy based openly and confessedly on the extension and perpetuity of an +institution—which Englishmen everywhere professed to regard with the +deepest abhorrence,—was certainly very inconsistent; but it was not at +all strange. In fact, it was precisely the thing which we might expect would +happen under the circumstances. Those who made the mistake have learned a +lesson in human nature which should prevent them from repeating the +blunder."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>From the past opinions and present condition of our Southern +States, and from the history of the war thus far, the author strongly argues +the necessity of a policy designed and fitted to build up a diversified +industry and a vigorous productive power. In regard to the degree of +protection, he advocates no more than is necessary to equalize advantages. In +consequence of her abundant capital, lower rate of interest, and cheaper labor, + England can manufacture at less cost than we can; and this disadvantage can +be counteracted only by protective legislation. The benefits which have accrued +to the manufacturers of England from a governmental policy on whose stability +they could rely, the advantage of a long and firmly established business with +all its results of experience and skill, and the collateral aid of a widely +extended commerce, are points clearly brought out and presented to the +consideration of American economists.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>But our limits forbid that we should attempt any further +exposition of this excellent work. The section on "Free Trade" cannot +fail to arrest attention, and that upon "The Harmony of Interests among +the States" is full of common sense inspired by the broadest patriotism.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Our imperfect abstract gives but a <span lang=EN-GB>meagre</span> +notion of the fulness and completeness of this admirable work. It will +accomplish its object, if it send the reader to the book itself. The appearance +of the volume is timely. Events and circumstances have prepared the minds of +our countrymen to understand and to appreciate the argument. The book cannot fail +to diffuse sounder views of the great topics which it discusses, and will +exert, we trust, a beneficial influence on the legislation of the country.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal><i>The Slave-Power; its Character, Career, and Probable +Designs: being an Attempt to explain the Real Issue involved in the American +Contest</i>. By J. E. <span lang=FR>CAIRNES</span>, M. A, London: Parker, Son, +& Bourn. 8vo.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>This book, which is dedicated to John Stuart Mill, and is in +excellent keeping with that writer's article on "The Civil War in America," +deserves a respectful and even cordial welcome from the people of this country. +It has grown out of a course of university-lectures on North-American Slavery, +more especially considered in its economical aspects. But the author has been +led to enlarge his view, and has brought before the public one of the most +significant works that have yet appeared on this momentous subject. So far as +the treatise is a speculative one, it has an interest for all inquirers. So far +as it is intended to influence or modify the current estimate of the great +conflict in this country, it bears more directly on the people of England; but, +unless we have determined neither to seek nor to miss the sympathy of +intelligent Englishmen, we ought to hail so manly and powerful an attempt to +correct the errors which prevail in the mother-country. We do not undertake at +this time to subscribe to everything we find in this book, nor are we now about +to criticize its contents. Our wish is to introduce it to our readers as a +comforting proof that there is a leaven yet working among our English kinsmen +which it would be extremely unjust in us not to recognize. We quote an English +critic, who says:—"The work is exceedingly able, as well as +exceedingly opportune. It will do much to arrest the extraordinary tide of +sympathy with the South which the clever misrepresentations of Southern +advocates have managed to set running in this country, and to imprint the +picture of a modern slave-community on the imagination of thoughtful men." +Professor <span lang=FR>Cairnes</span> sets himself at the start against the +endeavor to refer this great crisis to superficial and secondary causes. He +pierces the question to the core, and finds there what has too often been +studiously kept out of sight, the cancer of Slavery. Acknowledging what has +been so diligently harped upon, that the motive of the war is not the overthrow +of the slave-power, he still insists that Slavery is the cause of the war. This +he attempts to establish historically and economically; nor does he leave the +subject without a searching look into Southern society and a prospective glance +at the issues of the contest. He has freely consulted American authorities, +most of which are familiar to many of our readers; he has also turned to good +account the reports of open-eyed English <span lang=EN-GB>travellers</span>, +and the opinions of sensible French writers, not overlooking the remarkably +clear narrative of our political history in the "<span lang=FR>Annuaire</span> +des <span lang=FR>Deux</span><span lang=FR> </span><span lang=FR>Mondes</span>" +for 1860. He handles his materials with great skill, and, in a word, has +brought to bear on his difficult subject an amount of good sense and sound +thought quite remarkable in a foreigner who is dealing with the complex +politics of a distant country.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Professor <span lang=FR>Cairnes</span>, in opposition to the +Southern doctrine proclaimed at home and abroad, views the present rebellion as +unconstitutional, and as therefore amenable to the usual tests by which a +revolutionary movement is justified or condemned. He refers to the manner in +which the English people allowed their sympathies "to be carried, under +the skilful management of Southern agency acting through the press, round to +the Southern side"; and while he admires the spectacle of a people rising +"for no selfish object, but to maintain the integrity of their common country, +and to chastise a band of conspirators, who, in the wantonness of their +audacity, had dared to attack it," he attributes the "cold criticism +and derision" of the English public to a shallow, but natural, +misconception of the real issue. So far as in him lies, he does not intend that +the case shall be so misconceived any longer. Without declaring himself an +advocate or apologist of American democracy, he warmly pleads that democracy +ought not to bear the burdens of oligarchy,—that the faults and mistakes +in the policy of this country ought not all to be laid at the door of the +present National Government, and thus redound to the benefit of its Southern +foes, when so many of those faults and mistakes were committed under the sway +of the very class in whose behalf they are now quoted. Our sensitive +countrymen, who have so keenly smarted under English indifference or hostility, +may console themselves with the thought that there is one Englishman of +undoubted ability and sincerity who calls the Southern Confederation "the +opprobrium of the age."</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>Near the close of the volume the author strives to penetrate +the darkness which hangs over the present conflict. He does not think +"that the North is well advised in its attempt to reconstruct the Union in +its original proportions." He would have the North supported in striving +for "a degree of success which shall compel the South to accept terms of +separation, such as the progress of civilization in America and the advancement +of human interests throughout the world imperatively require." The terms +of his proposed settlement we have not room here to consider.</p> + +<p class=MsoNormal>With this hasty notice, and without any attempt at +criticism, we dismiss a thoughtful and interesting book, which, however in some +particulars it may fail to meet the entire acceptance of all American readers, +is well worthy of their calm and deliberate perusal.</p> + +</div> + +<div><br> + +<hr style="float: left; width: 33%; height: auto;"> + +<div id=edn1> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref1" name="_edn1" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[1]</span></span></span></a> +Are we as grateful as we should be to Mrs. Cowden Clarke? Did you ever try to +find anything by the help of Ayscough, when that was the best guide to be had? +If you have, you remember your teasing search for the principal word in the +passage,—how <i>day</i> seemed a less likely key than <i>jocund</i>, and +yet, as this was only an adjective, perhaps <i>tiptoe</i> were better; or, if +you pitched upon <i>mountain-tops</i>, it was a problem with which half of the +compound to begin the search. Consider that Mrs. Clarke is no dry word-critic, +to revel in pulling the soliloquy to pieces, and half inclined to carry the +work farther and give you the separate letters and the number of each, but a woman +who loves Shakespeare and what he wrote. Think of her sitting down for sixteen +years to pick up senseless words one by one, and stow each one away in its own +niche, with a ticket hanging to it to guide the search of any one who can bring +the smallest sample of the cloth of gold he wants. Think of this, whenever you +open her miracle of patient labor, and be grateful.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn2> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref2" name="_edn2" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[2]</span></span></span></a> +<i>Hand-Book for Hythe.</i> By Lieut. Hans Busk.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn3> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref3" name="_edn3" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[3]</span></span></span></a> +See lower wood-cut, p. 294, <i>d</i>.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn4> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref4" name="_edn4" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[4]</span></span></span></a> +Those who care to know more of the habits and structure of these animals will +find more detailed descriptions of all the various species, illustrated by +numerous plates, in the fourth volume of my <i>Contributions to the Natural +History of the United States,</i> just published.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn5> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref5" name="_edn5" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[5]</span></span></span></a> +The march on Bethel was begun in high spirits at midnight, but it was near noon when the Zouaves, in their crimson garments, led by Colonel Duryea, charged the +batteries, after singing the "Star-Spangled Banner" in chords. Major +Winthrop fell in the storming of the enemy's defences, and was left on the +battle-field. Lieutenant Greble, the only other officer killed, was shot at his +gun soon after. This fatal contest inaugurated the "war of posts" +which has since raged in Virginia.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn6> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref6" name="_edn6" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[6]</span></span></span></a> +This musket was afterwards called <i>fusil boucanier</i>. <i>Fusil demi-boucanier</i> +was the same kind, with a shorter barrel.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn7> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref7" name="_edn7" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[7]</span></span></span></a> +<i>Histoire des Avanturiers Flibustiers, avec la Vie, les Moeurs, et les +Coutumes des Boucaniers</i>, par A.O. Oexmelin, who went out to the West Indies +as a poor <i>Engagé</i>, and became a Buccaneer. Four Volumes. New Edition, +printed in 1744: Vol. III., containing the Journal of a Voyage made with <i>Flibustiers</i> +in the South Sea in 1685, by Le Sieur Ravenau de Lussan; and Vol. IV., +containing a History of English pirates, with the Lives of two Female Pirates, +Mary Read and Ann Bonny, and Extracts from Pirate-Codes: translated from the +English of Captain Charles Johnson.—Charlevoix, <i>Histoire de St. +Domingue</i>, Vols. III. and IV.—<i>The History of the Bucaniers of </i><i>America</i><i>, +from the First Original down to this Time; written in several Languages, and +now collected into One Volume.</i> Third Edition, London, 1704: containing +Portraits of all the Celebrated <i>Flibustiers,</i> and Plans of some of their +Land-Attacks.—<i>Nouveaux Voyages aux Isles Françoises de l'Amérique</i>, +par le Père Labat, 1724, Tom. V, pp. 228-230. See also Archenholtz.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn8> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref8" name="_edn8" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[8]</span></span></span></a> +Not to be confounded with the Tortugas, the westernmost islands of the Florida + Keys (<i>Cayos</i>, Spanish for rocks, shoals, or islets).</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn9> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref9" name="_edn9" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[9]</span></span></span></a> +Charlevoix will have it reversed, and derives <i>flibustier</i> from <i>freebooter;</i> +but this English word is not old enough to have been a vagrom in those seas at +that time. Webster derives it from the Dutch <i>Vrijbuiter;</i> but that and +the corresponding German word were themselves derived. Schoelcher says that it +is a corruption of an English word, <i>fly-boater</i>, one who manages a +fly-boat; and he adds,—"Our <i>flibot</i>, a small and very fast +craft, draws its origin from the English <i>fly-boat, bateau mouche, bateau +volant</i>." But this is only a kind of pun. Perhaps the Dutch named it +so, not from its swiftness, but from its resemblance, with its busy oars and +darting motions, to a slender-legged fly. There appears to be no ground for +saying that the boat was so called because it first came into use upon the +river Vlie in Holland. It might have been a boat used by the inhabitants of +Vlieland, a town on the island of the same name, north of Texel. <i>Freebooter</i> +is such a good word for <i>flibustier</i> that it was easy to accuse it of the +parentage.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn10> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref10" name="_edn10" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[10]</span></span></span></a> +Pinnaces of five or six tons, which could be packed on shipboard in pieces and +put together when wanted, were built in the reign of Elizabeth. The name is of +Spanish origin, from the pine used for material.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn11> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref11" name="_edn11" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[11]</span></span></span></a> +See a contract of this kind in <i>Histoire Générale des </i><i>Antilles</i>, Du +Tertre, Tom. I. p. 464.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn12> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref12" name="_edn12" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[12]</span></span></span></a> +Bancroft's <i>United States</i>, Vol. I. p. 14.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn13> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref13" name="_edn13" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[13]</span></span></span></a> +Buckle's <i>History of Civilization</i>, Vol. II. chap. 1.</p> + +</div> + +<div id=edn14> + +<p class=MsoEndnoteText><a href="#_ednref14" name="_edn14" title=""><span +class=MsoEndnoteReference><span class=MsoEndnoteReference><span +style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman"'>[14]</span></span></span></a> +"Our Birds and their Ways" (December, 1857); "The Singing-Birds +and their Songs" (August, 1858); "The Birds of the Garden and +Orchard" (October, 1858); "The Birds of the Pasture and Forest" +(December, 1853);—the first by J. Elliot Cabot, and the three last by +Wilson Flagg.</p> + +</div> + +</div> +<br> +<hr> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, Number +59, September, 1862, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, SEPTEMBER 1862 *** + +***** This file should be named 9946-h.htm or 9946-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/9/4/9946/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, David Kline, and Project +Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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