Southern Literature - Forgotten Books

L IBRARY OF

SOUTHERN L ITERATURE

VOLUME VI I

JOHNSTON—LUCAS

COPYRIGHT, I 907, BY

Tm: MARTIN AND COMPANY, ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

COPYRIGHT, I 909, BY

Tm: MARTIN AND HOYT COMPANY, ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

E! ECUTIVE BOARD

EDITORS IN CHIEF.

EDW IN ANDERSON ALDERMAN, LL .D . ,

Presiden t Universi ty of Virginia .

JOEL CHANDLER HARRI S, L itt . D . ,

Edi tor Uncle Remus’s Magaz ine, At lan ta, Georgia .

L I TERARY EDITOR .

CHARLES W ILL IAM KENT,M.A. ,Ph .D . , LL .D . ,

Universi ty of Virginia .

ASSOCIATE L ITERARY EDITOR .

CHARLES ALPHONSO SMITH ,A.M. , Ph .D . , LL .D . ,

Universi ty of North Carol ina .

ASSI STANT L ITERARY EDITORS.

MORGAN CALLAWAY , JR. ,A.M. , Ph .D . ,

Universi ty of Texas .

FRANKLIN L. RILEY , A.M. ,Ph .D . ,

Universi ty of Mississippi .

GEORGE A. WAUCHOPE , A.M. , Ph.D . ,

Universi ty of Son th Carol ina .

E ! ECUTIVE EDITOR.

F. P. GAMBLE ,

At lanta, Georgia .

CONSULTING ED ITORS

JOHN W . ABERCROMBIE. LL D

Presiden t Un iversi ty of Alabama .

BROWN AYRES, Ph .D LL.D . ,

Presi den t Universi ty of Tennessee.

DAVID C. BARROW, C. and M.E. , LL D

Chancel lor Universi ty of Georgia.

THOMAS D. BOYD, A.M LL D

Presiden t Louisiana S ta te Universi ty .

E . B. CRAIGHEAD, A.M., LL .D .,

Presi dent Tulane Un iversi ty , Louisiana .

GEORGE H . DENNY, M.A., Ph .D LL.D .,

Presi den t Washington and Lee Universi ty .

BASIL L. GILDERSLEEVE,

A.M Ph.D ., LL.D ., L H .D .,

Johns Hopkins Universi ty , Mary land .

DAVID F. HOUSTON, A.M., LL D

Presiden t Universi ty of

RICHARD H. JESSE, LL.D . ,

Presiden t Universi ty of Missouri .

A. A. KINCANNON, LL D

Chance l lor Universi ty of Mississip

J. H . KIRKLAND, A.M. , Ph.D . ,LL.

Chancel lor Va nderbil t Universi ty ,Tennessee.

F. V. N. PAINTER, A.M D .D .,

Roanoke Col l ege, Virginia .

R. N. ROARK. M.A. , Ph .D .,

Presiden t Ken tucky S ta t e Nor

School.

ANDREW SLEDD, Ph .D ., LL .D

Presiden t Un iversi ty of Florida .

HENRY N. SNYDER, A.M. , LL.D .,

Presiden t Wof ord Col lege, South

Carol ina .

JOHN N. TI LLMAN, LL .D .,

Presiden t Universi ty of Arkansas.

FRANCI S P. VENABLE, Ph .D LL .

Presiden t Universi ty of North Carol i

ADVISORY COUNCIL

CHARLES B. AYCOCK,

Ex - Governor, North Carol ina .

W ILL IAM D . BLO! HAM,

Ex - Governor, Florida .

EDWARD W. CARMACK,

Ex - U. S . Sena tor, Tennessee.

HENRY COHEN,

Rabbi , Tex as.

CHARLES A. CULBERSON,

U.S . Sena tor, Texas .

DAVID R. FRANCI S,Publ icist, Missouri .

THOMAS F. GAI LOR, D .D LL.D

Protestan t Episcopa l B ishop, Tennessee.

CHARLES B. GALLOWAY, D .D LL .D .,

B ishop M.E . Church, South, Mississippi .

JOHN TEMPLE GRAVES,Ed i tor and L ecturer, Georgia .

DUNCAN C. HEYWARD,

Ex - Governor, South Carol ina.

RICHMOND P. HOBSON,

Congressman, Alabama .

BENJAMIN J. KEI LEY,D .D .,

Resi den t Ca thol ic B ishop of Georg

STEPHEN D . LEE,

Genera l Commanding Mis

W . W . MOORE, D .D LL.D

Presiden t Union Theologica l SemiVirginia .

EDGAR Y . MULL INS, D .D LL.D .,

Presiden t Southern Bapt is t Theolo

Seminary , Ken tucky .

FRANCI S T. NICHOLS,Supreme Court of Louis ia na .

ISIDOR RAYNER,

U.S . S ena tor, Mary land.

U. M. ROSE,

Ex - Presiden t American Bar AssoArkansas.

HOKE SMITH,

Governor of Georgia .

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VOLUME VI I

JOHNSTON, W ILL IAM PRESTON (1 83 1 - 1 899)BY BRANDT VAN BUREN DI ! ON

Plantation L i fe in TexasMacbethCreationRev. B . M. Pa lmer, D .D .

The Ladder

La Gitana

JONES,CHARLES COLCOCK, JR . (1 83 1 - 1 893)

BY WILL IAM H . FLEM ING

James OglethorpeSti rring Scenes of the RevolutionThe Private SoldierSketch Of Robert ToombsThe Old South and the New South

Jefferson Davis

JOYNES,EDWARD SOUTHEY (1 834

BY W . S . CURRELLLee, the College PresidentSchool Tra in ing in the Early DaysThe Educa tiona l Aw akening

KELLER, HELEN ADAMS (1 880

BY D . s. BURLESON

Sense and Sensibi lityMy Dreams

KENNEDY,JOHN PENDLETON (1 795 - 1 870)

BY JESSE LEWI S ORRI CKThe Battle Of King’s Mounta inThe Mansion of Dove Cote

CONTENTS

The Ancient Capita l of MarylandCon fessions of an Offi ce HolderTria l by View

KING, GRACE ELI Z ABETH (1 852

BY ALBERT PHELPSMaking ProgressThe Story Of a Day

The Pari s of the New WorldThe Cemeteri es

LAMAR, LUCIUS Q. C. (1 825 - 1 893)

BY CHARLES B . GALLOWAY

On the Dea th Of Charles SumnerPol icy of t he Republican Party in the South

On Refusing to Obey Instruct ionsRepublican Pol icy and the Sol id SouthOn the Unvei ling of the Ca lhoun Monument

LAMAR,MI RABEAU B . (1 798 - 1 859)

BY A. w . TERRELLProtest Aga inst Freeing Santa AnnaApologyThe Daughter of Mendoz aI n Li fe’s Unclouded, Gayer HourThe Sea sonsCarmel i taThe Rul ing PassionGive to t he Poet H is Well - Earned Pra ise

LANE,ELEANOR MCCARTNEY — 1 909)

BY CHARLOTTE NEWELL

A Page from Lady Gra fton’s Journa lNancy Vi s its H is Grace of Borthw ick e

LANIER, CLI FFORD (I 844- I 9OS)

BY C. PRESCOTT ATKINSONThe Mission Of BeautyTime, Tireless Tramp

CONTENTS ix

PM .

A Seaw eed on Deck in Mid-OceanThe American Phi lomelForest E l ix irsFri ar ServetusH i s Si lent FluteTo a Poet Dy ing YoungThe Men Behind the

“BooksIn a L ibraryThe First Con federa te Whi te House, Montgomery,The Pow er Of Affection ; or Voting in AlabamaThe Grea test Of These i s LoveThe Western Ga te

LAN IER, SI DNEY (1 842 - 1 88 1 )

BY HENRY NELSON SNYDER

Corn

My SpringsA Ba l lad Of Trees and the MasterThe Marshes Of GlynnSong Of the ChattahoocheeThe Revenge Of Hami shD ifference Betw een Music and VerseA Poet’s Letter to a FriendThe Development of Persona l i tyThe Legend Of St . LeonorPaul H . Hayne’s Poetry

LAURENS,HENRY (1 724- 1 792 )

BY D . D . WALLACE

Lett er to John LaurensIn the Tow er Of London

LAWSON,JOHN —I 7 I 2 )

BY D . H . H ILLThe Indians of North Carol ina

LE CONTE,JOSEPH (1 823- 1 901 )

BY H . C. WHITEPersona li ty of De i tyWhat is Evolution ?Origin and Structure of Mounta ins

CONTENTS.

ROBERT EDWARD (1 807- 1 870)

BY GEORGE H . DENNYResignation from Un i ted States ArmyLe tt er to G. W. Custi s LeeA Chri stmas Let t er to H is Wi feAddress to the People Of MarylandChambersburg OrderFina l Address to Old SoldiersAccepting College PresidencyLe tt er to H . C. Saunders

Let t er to Governor LetcherLet t er to Capta in Tatna llAn Address to the StudentsLet t er to W. H. F. Lee

Le tter to Genera l LongstreetLett er to Fi tz hugh LeeLet t er to Genera l EarlyDescription Of “Traveller

LEGARE, HUGH SWI NTON (1 797 - 1 843)

BY B . J. RAMAGE

Lord Byron’s Charact er and Wri tingsMr. Legaré to H is SisterD emosthenesThe Roman Legislator

LEGARE,JAMES MATTHEW ( 1 823- 1 859)

BY LUDWIG LEWI SOHNThe ReaperTo a L i lyTa llulahOn the Death Of a Kinsman

TO Anne

Flow ers in AshesHaw - BlossomsAhab-Mahommed

LEIGH,BENJAMIN WATKINS (1 78 1 - 1 849)

BY JOSEPH B . DUNN

On the Expunging ResolutionRepresentation and Taxation

CONTENTS x i

LE VERT, OCTAVIA WALTON ( 1 8 1 0- 1 877

BY MRS . JOHN K . OTTLEY

Introduct ion to De Lamart ineDescription Of VesuviusA Visi t to the PopeW e Un furl Our Ow n FlagA Tribut e to Henry Cl ay

LONGSTREET, AUGUSTUS BALDWIN (1 790- 1 870)

BY 0. P. FITZ GERALDThe FightThe Horse - Sw apA Touch Of Polemics

L UCAS, DAN IEL BEDINGER (1 836

BY LAURENCE 5 .

Dan iel O’Connel l

The Land Where W e Were DreamingThe Wind Ch imed Low by the Deep Waves FlowMy Thought Grow s Haz y Wi th the Season

’s Touch

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

SAINT RocH’s CEMETERY AND SH RINE, NEw

ORLEANS Fronti spiece

L . Q . C. LAMAR Facing page 2987

S IDNEY LANIER Facing page 3041

ROBERT EDWARD Facing page 31 45

W ILLIAM PRESTON JOHNSTON

[1 8151—1 899]

BRANDT VAN BUREN D I ! ON

ILLIAM PRESTON JOHNSTON, born in Louisvi lle, Kentucky, January 5, 1 831 , the eldest son of Albert Sydney and

Henriett a (Preston ) Johnston , of Scotch - I ri sh descen t, numberedamong h is ancestors many men of di stinction—soldiers, sta tesmen,

jurists, and others w hose w ork and influence in t he upbui lding ofth is country have been notew orthy. From the period of early settlement, in colon ia l times and the Revolution, and dow n to the present,the names of Johnston , Preston, Stoddard, Hancock, Clark, W ickl iFfe, Strother, and others of h is kindred, recur constan tly in the

records of sta te or na tion, men of strong and sterling qua l i ty, fit forleadersh ip and ach ievement. I t w as therefore natura l and fit t ingthat, as ch i ld and man , the subject of this sketch should have felt anin tense fami ly pride w h i ch acted as a determin ing influence throughout his li fe .

At the age of four years he lost hi s mother, and shortly a fterw ard h is fa ther removed to the new Republic of Tex as, so that hew as left to the care of hi s maternal relatives in Louisvi l le, Mrs.

Joseph ine Rogers, and, a fterw ard, Genera l and Mrs. Wi l liam Preston . He w as educated in the primary schools Of Louisvi lle, theAcademy Of S. V. Womack of Shelbyv i lle, Center College of Danv i lle, and the Western M i l i tary Inst itute of Georgetow n , Kentucky.I n 1 850, a fter a somew ha t desultory attempt to read l aw , he w ent toY a le College, w here he entered the cla ss of 1 852 in i t s jun ior year.

H ere he soon took a leading posi t ion in scholarsh ip, w on the Tow nsend pri z e for Engl ish composi tion, and in the fina l competi tion w on

t he Clark pri z e for an essay on “ Politica l Abstraction ists.

”

After gradua t ion he resumed the study of l aw ,receiving his

d iploma from the Law School of the Un iversi ty of Louisvi lle inMa rch , 1 853. On the six th of the follow ing July he w as married inNew Haven to Mi ss Rosa E li z abeth Duncan, daughter Of John ’

N.

Duncan of New Orleans, La. Those w ho knew th is lady Speak ofh er as the rarest and noblest o f w omen , beauti ful in person and

chara cter, da inty, graceful, and w i tty, but w itha l full o f sober judgmen t, h igh courage, firmness, and sel f- respect, devoutly rel igious

,

d evoted to her ch i ldren, and Of unbounded charity.Ex cept for a brief residence in New York , young Johnston t e

281 3

2814 SOUTHERN L ITERATURE

ma ined in Louisvi lle engaged in his l aw pract ice unti l the outbreakof the Civi l W ar. Though never very act i ve in pol i ti cs, he w as

a lw ays a strong advoca te Of the principles espoused by the South ;w hen ,

therefore, the w ar became inevi table, he w as among the firstin his State to join the Con federa te servi ce, and ra ise and equ ipt roops for i t s army. In the summer of 1 86 1 he w as appo inted ma j orof the Second Kentucky Regiment, but w as soon transferred to theFirst Kentucky Regiment as ma j or, and a fterw ard promoted to theposi tion of l ieutenant - colonel . Th i s regiment saw i t s on ly servicein the Army of Northern Virgin ia , and took part in t he early Operations on the line of Fa irfax Court House and Acot ink.

Never of a robust consti tution, Colonel Johnston w as not ableto endure the hardsh ips and exposure of service in t he field ; h ishea lth became seriously impa ired, and a fter a severe i llness fromtyphoid-

pneumon ia and c fever, during w h ich his regiment w as

d i sbanded, in May , 1 862, he accepted the invi ta tion of PresidentDavis to serve on h is persona l sta ff as a ide - de - camp w ith the rankof colonel . I n thi s position his duties as inspector- genera l , and con

fiden t i a l sta ff offi cer for communi cation w i th genera ls in ,the field,

brought h im into int ima te rela tions w ith the leaders Of the Con fedcracy and i t s armi es, and throughout the w ar he enj oyed theirh ighest confidence and trust . He w as present in the battles of SevenPines, Cold Harbor, Sheridan’s Ra id, Drew ry’s Bluff, Petersburg,and many others of less importance . He follow ed fa ith fully the

fortunes of Pres iden t Davis, and w as captured w ith h im in Georgia.

For severa l months he w as impri soned in Fort D elaw are, a fter w hichhe spent a year of residence as an ex i le in Canada , then return ing toLou isvi lle to resume t he pract ice of l aw .

Meanw h i le Genera l Robert E. Lee had accepted the presidencyof Wa sh ingt on and Lee Un iversi ty, and in 1 867 he invi ted ColonelJohnston to the cha ir of Engl i sh and history, a posi tion to w hich hew as strongly inclined, both by disposit ion and scholarly tra in ing.

He gladly a ccepted the ca ll and removed to Lex ington ,Virgin ia .

Many of h is students bear w i l ling w i tness to the inspiring influenceof h is teach ing and h is persona l ity.In 1 880 Colonel Johnston became the president Of the Louis iana

Sta te Un ivers ity a t Baton Rouge, then having but th irty- n ine students. Th is he reorgan i z ed , but a fter three years w as ca lled to h isfina l task in New Orleans.In 1 883, w hen Paul Tulane made his grea t bequest to Louisiana

for the benefit of educa tion, the administra tors of the Tulane Educa t ional Fund invi ted Colonel Johnston to organ i z e and take chargeof the insti tution they had determined to found. The Universi ty Of

Loui siana in New Orleans w as reorgan i z ed as the Tulane Un iversi ty

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

2816 SOUTHERN LITERATURE

del ivered at Tulane Un iversi ty. The thesis is a paradox , not grea tlyfavored by admirers of Shakspere, perhaps, but commanding muchfavorable cri tici sm. I n h is numerous addresses are to be found manyvivid and accura te pictures of the “Old South ,

”and acute Observa

tions of the condi tions ari sing in the “New South .

” These effortsare replete w i th shrew d and w i se suggestions ; his estima tes of t heneeds of Southern civi l i z a tion have been h ighly apprec ia ted by sta tesmen Of thi s country and of Europe.In 1 894 he printed for priva te di stribut ion a volume of poems

under the ti tle ‘My Garden Wa lk,’ and, in 1 896, th i s w as follow ed by‘Pictures Of the Pa triarchs.

’In these volumes are to be found many

poems w hich w ere rece ived w i th grea t favor.

In 1 877 Colonel Johnston received from Wa sh ingt on and Lee

Un iversi ty t he degree of LL .D . , and for seven years prior to h i sdea th he w as one of the regents of t he Smithson ian Insti tution.

On October 1 9, 1 885, his w i fe, Rosa Duncan, di ed, and in t he

same year a lso di ed his only son ,Albert Sydney Johnston. Of hi s

five daughters, three died before him, M iss Mary Duncan Johnston ,

in 1 894, Mrs. Carol ine Hancock Kinney, in 1 895, and Mrs. Henri ettaPreston Tucker, in 1 897. Tw o surv ived h im, Mrs. Rosa DuncanRobinson, now residi ng in Loui svi lle, Kentucky, and Mrs. MargaretW ickl ifle Sharpe, of Wi lkesbarre, Pennsylvan ia.

In 1 888 Colonel Johnston w a s married to M iss Margaret Henshaw Avery, daughter of Judge D an i el Dudley Avery, a member ofone of Loui siana’s best fami l ies. Th is lady, admirably qua lified byculture and refinement, w as for eleven years in t he fullest sympa thyw i th his w ork and aspira tions. She survives h im.

For severa l years Colonel Johnston’s hea lth had been steadi lydecl in ing, and on di fferent occa sions he had seriously considered thew isdom of resign ing his posi tion . Unt i l near the end hOpe of bettermen t persisted, but in the summer of 1 899 h is condi tion became rapidly w orse, and dea th found him on the six teenth of July, 1 899, a t

t he home of h is son - i h - l aw ,Harry St . George Tucker, in Lex ington ,

Virgin ia . H is body w as taken to his boyhood home, Lou i svi l le, Kentucky, and buried among h i s ma terna l kindred.

I n person he w as ta ll and slender, in h is manners graceful andsympa thetic, in a l l h is deportment a lovable Chri st ian gentleman .

I n those four yea rs of stress and tria l w h i ch tested to the uttermosthis quiet but unquestionable courage , h is integri ty and scrupulousveraci ty, he endea red h imsel f to a l l the offi cers of the Con federacy.

He w as the trusted friend of Davi s, Lee, and scores of other leaders,and on h is relea se from prison a fter the w ar found himsel f the possessor of their unl im ited confidence and esteem.

WILL IAM PRESTON JOHNSTON 28 1 7

That w h i ch impressed us most in h is character w as i ts singular

combina tion of graciousness and inflex ibi l i ty. Gentle even to the

suggestion of w eakness , eager to plea se and to avoid offence, he w as

unyielding in h is convictions, and h is purposes, once formed, w ereca rri ed out firmly and consi stently. H is judgments w ere keen , butnever ha sty ; once fix ed they w ere ma inta ined w i th a quiet stubbornness w h ich often surpri sed h is friends. H e w as thus singularly w ellqua l ified for a w ork tha t required tact, clearness of vi sion , un fa i l ingcourtesy, and pa ti ent firmness.He w as a steadfa st advocate of the principles ma inta ined by the

Con federacy in the Civi l W ar, a w arm - hearted, generous fri end, a

consistent member of the Epi scopa l Church , deeply and una ffectedlyreligious, and broad in h is sympath ies tow ard a l l men.

PLANTATION LIFE IN TE! AS

From ‘L i fe of Genera l Albert Sydney Johnst on .

’

GENERAL JOHNSTON returned to Ga lveston in October, andw as received with enthusiasm by i t s citiz ens, w ith whom he

w as a lways a favorite. A public dinner w as tendered him,

which his business, however, compelled him to decline. A

question of the utmost importance to himsel f now came before Genera l Johnston for decision . When he had gone to

Genera l Taylor’s assistance in May , he had promised his W i fe,w ho strongly opposed his volunteering, that he would not reén

l ist a t the expiration of h is term of service without her consent .H e knew that she w as too high - sp irited to insist on h is re

ti rement while in the line of either dut y or d istinction. But he

had come back from the a rmy w ith a heavy hea rt . When thew ar broke out , rank and celebrity seemed to aw a it him, and

t he opportun ity had appa rently a rrived w hen h is abilities wouldfi nd a fa i r fi eld for their display ; but h is brie f ca reer hadended in disappointment. He had seen t he regiment, which hehad convert ed into a powerful engine of w ar, dissolved beforeh is eyes by a stroke of the pen . Though he had done a l l thata man could do under t he circumstances, and had w on the ap


proba tion and esteem of h is commanders and fellow - soldiers,his services were not such as his Government chose to acknow ledge. I t w as a lmost an avowed policy to con fer milita ry command as the rewa rd of politica l activity ; and pa rty notables,transformed into generals and accompan ied by specia l correspondents for the manufacture of glory, became the centres offaction and t he ephemera l heroes of the press. Such methodsand appliances were not only discouraging to merit and d istasteful to rea l soldiers, but , detected at last by the newspapersand people, recoiled on the pretenders. Stil l , for the time , confounding spurious and genuine reputation, they repelled manygood soldiers from t he service .

General Johnston w as not without sufli cient influence to

have arrested the attention of the Admin istration and en forcedsome sort of recogn ition of h is Cl a ims ; but such a course ofprocedure w as a ltogether foreign to h is nature and principles,and rank or pow er thus a tta ined would have afforded him no

gra tifica tion. He va lued these as the symbols of accordedmerit and the opportun ity of more useful services. His inclination w as to return to the army as a volunteer, and do wha teverw ork came to h is hand . It w as the na tura l desire of a professioua l soldier, unwilling to rust while the others mingled in thefray. On t he other hand, he w as no mere military adventurer,and there w as no ca ll of patriotic duty upon him when therew as an excess of soldiers impatient for the same service, anda Government tha t did not want h is sword . H is wife, moreover, insisted upon a fulfillment of h is promise not to rejointhe army aga inst her consent . Untrammeled, he would probably have followed professiona l instincts and returned to the

field ; but t he cla ims of h is family upon him were very strong,and he fina lly determined to yield to the wishes of h is wife,abandon the milita ry profess ion forever, and enter uponthe peaceful pursuits of agriculture . This step w as not t akenwithout a severe menta l struggle ; but when once taken , a l l

the force of a resolute will w as exerted to van ish va in re

grets, and conform his menta l habits to t he mode of li feadopted .

The author takes pleasure, as an act of gra titude and of

fi lial duty , in recording an instance of Genera l Johnston’s

sel f- abnegation and generosity. As tenant by the courtesy,

WILL IAM PRESTON JOHNSTON 28 19

he possessed a li fe - esta te in t he property inherited from h is

fi rst wi fe by her children. Considering t he ava ils not morethan suffi cient for their educa tion , ma intenance, and sta rt inli fe, he divested himself of his li fe - esta te, and surrendered itfor the benefit of these children .

With the sma ll means now a t h is command he bought thesimple furn iture, utensi ls, and supplies required in the humblehome to which he w as retiring, and such stock, fa rm imple

ments, and seed as were absolutely necessa ry. H is housekeeping w as in a style as primitive as any of the pioneers.

A double log- cabin , covered with clapboa rds, and fronted witha wide porch, gave a rude shelter ; and the pine tables, hickorycha irs, and other household effects, might have suited a campbetter than a permanent establishment. Such as they were,they suffi ced for his wants.

The China Grove planta tion , to which he removed, w as

situa ted partly in the a lluvia l bottom- lands of Oyster Creek,a stream nea rly para llel with the Braz os R iver, and pa rtlyin thefla t and ra ther sandy pra irie that stretched aw ay towa rdGa lveston Bay . Three or four hundred acres

,constituting

“

the plantation proper, had been clea red of the dense timberand undergrow th of the primeva l forest, which still shadednea rly a thousand acres more while toward t he south and

cast a squa re league of pra irie , waving with t he luxuriantgrasses of t he coastlands, a fforded ample pasture for herdsof ca ttle which ranged a t will. A belt of thick woods, eightor t en miles wide, a lmost pa thless, fi lled with a l l manner ofwild beasts and game, thick set With jungle, and concea lingmiasma tic swamps caused by the annual overflow of the river,rea ched a lmost to the doors. A fever - breeding ma laria ex

hal ed from these marshes and crept toward the pra irie, whereit w as met by the sa lt sea bree z e, which sweeping steadilyacross the broad savanna , mastered it with a doubtful victory.

The Open friend w as a lways gladly welcomed ; the secret foesometimes la id its poisonous fingers on an unsuspect ing household.

From the front porch the view extended as far as t he

eye could reach over a grassy pla in, unbroken except by an

occasiona l fringe or mot of distant timber. To a lover ofNa ture in al l hermoods, like Genera l Johnston, th is vast am


ph i theat re w as a source of continua l pleasure. Everywherewere the evidences of fertility , and Nature offered to the observant eye a l l t he beauty that a level surface, una ided by art ,could afford .

I n early spring an emera ld sward, embroidered with theblue lup in , t he crimson phlox, t he fragrant and flossy mimosa , and a thousand flowers of varied perfume and hue,

invited grea t herds of deer to browse upon the tender grass,while t he long- horned ca ttle, scarcely less w ild, wa tched withsta rtled eyes the unfrequent traveler. Innumerable flightsof wild - fow l circled and settled in the shallow pools leftby the winter ra ins. Cranes, herons, wild - geese, brants, ducks,and sea - birds, gulls, curlews and others, made this theirfeeding - ground. Summer saw the ta ll, yellow grass wavingl ike a sea of gold , and the transforming power of a Southernsun and moist a tmosphere working the ma rvels of the mirage.

In winter came t he long ra ins driving slant, or the a ir clearedby the bracing norther, or the midn ight sky lit by a distant ornearer circle of flame that ma rked the movement of the pra i riefi re. Over a l l w as solitude with i t s na rrowing, strengt hen inginfluences, i t s lessons of sel f - reliance and sel f - den ia l, and i t sinvitat ions to sel f - communion and the study of Nature .

Genera l Johnston’s family, when he settled on the Ch inaGrove planta tion

,consisted of h is wife and infant son , a ne

gro man and h is wife, tw o negro boys and a girl. Of coursehe did not expect to be able to work the place with this force,but merely to fi nd shelter and food until he could either sellt he land and obta in a less costly home, or secure labor suffi cient to work it . He preferred this latter course, by meansof which he could easily have extricated himsel f from debtand derived a handsome revenue . But , a lthough in view of

t he la rge immigration of planters to Texas, he had justgrounds for believing this plan feasible, he w as, from causesnot necessa ry to enter into here, continua lly disappoi

nted inhis hopes. By the application of the rent to repa i rs he hadmanaged to keep the plantation m tolerable order and cultivation from i t s purchase unt il h is ow n arriva l there ; and now ,

by his persona l supervision and labor, he made it a desi rablehome.

In this secluded spot he w as buried for three years. H is

WILL IAM PRESTON JOHNSTON 2821

chief business w as to make a crop of Indian - corn, for breadfor h is family and forage for his work- an ima ls ; a crop of

cott on, for the purchase of supplies ; a sma ll cr0p of sugarcane ; and an ample supply of a l l sorts of vegetables. To theseends he gave a good dea l of ha rd labor in the field and garden,

but he did not neglect the simple but delightful recreation of

the flower - garden . His house w as shaded by a grove of the

fragrant “

pride of China ,

”and the spacious yard conta ined

tow ering live- oaks, pecans, and other beaut i ful nat ive foresttrees. A hedge of Cherokee rose, with i t s snowy bloom, pro

t ect ed the enclosure ; and an ample orchard of figs and peachesfurn ished i t s fruits for the table. When General Johnstonwent there, he w as told leeks were the only vegetable thatwould thrive, but he soon proved tha t hardly any vegetableknown to American gardens would fa il under ordinary care .

It is true that he w as careful , patient, industrious, and skill fulin plant - nurture ; but a l l this is necessary to the best successanyw here.

The frequent a llusions in his correspondence to his ow n

share in the labor of the plantation sprang from an honestpride in doing well in every part of the work he had undertaken . I remember that some years a fter, when he had

changed h is occupat ion, a wea lthy and cultivated friend withwhom w e were d in ing very ingenuously ma inta ined t he theorythat manua l labor unfi t t ed a man for the higher reaches ofthought and spheres of action . What you say ,

” repliedGenera l Johnston,

“seems very plausible, but sel f - love forbids

me to agree with you. I have ploughed, and planted, and ga thered the ha rvest . The spade, the hoe , the plough, and the

axe, are familia r to my hands, and that not for recreation,

but for bread .

”

He had but one near ne ighbor, Colonel Wa rren D . C. Ha ll,who

,with h is wife, rendered Genera l Johnst on

’s family every

friendly offi ce that kind heart s could suggest. Colonel Ha l lw as one of Austin’s colonists, and prominent in the earlierconfl icts of the revolutionary struggle. He w as elderly, andhad not been fortunate ; so that his large estate w as laboringunder embarrassments, from which I believe it w as subse

quently relieved. H e w as a bold, warm- heart ed, hospitable

plant er. He and h is wife were chi ldless, but their affect ions


went out to cheer a l l about them. As a lmost the only familytha t Genera l and Mrs. Johnston saw in thei r yea rs of plantation - li fe, this notice seems to me brief ; but the record of t heamen ities that sweeten li fe are w ritten elsewhere than in

printed books.

I trust that some recollections of the earlier pa rt of myfather’s stay a t China Grove will not be considered an obtru

sive introduct ion of my ow n personality into this memoir.But as h is trea tment of me i llustrates not on ly many of h isviews but some of his cha racteristics, what might otherwiseseem an unnecessa ry sel f - display will, I hope, be pa rdoned.

Soon a fter establishing himsel f on the plantation, my fathersent for me to visit him

, and I spent about three months fromNew Year’s ( 1 847 ) there. It is prOper to say thathe had a lways trea ted me with a confi dence and considera tionproportioned not a t a l l to my merits, nor probably even to hisconception of them, but to the idea l which he set before me asworthy of imitation . His rule with children w as to give thema cha racter, that they would try to l ive up to it . He w as an

indulgent husband , father, and master. He viewed the con

duct of others W ith charitable eye , and made their Opportun ities the measure of their responsibi lities. While he did not

expect in slaves the virtues of freemen ,he incited them to

well - doing by kindness, and tried hard to ra ise their mora ltone by a ready recogn ition of their good tra its. Few peoplewished or a ttempted to resist h is authority . H e had the gi ftof command . Though h is sway w as gentle, I , at least, feltthat i t s constra int w as absolute . He w as no believer in the

rod, or in any form of terror, which he sa id made cowardsand liars. H is appea l w as a lways to the reason and moralna ture, and w as made with irresist ible force and persuasiveness. H is chi ldren were h is compan ions and friends, and th iswithout sacrifice of h is dign ity or of the ir filia l relat ion . The

sympathy w as very deep and tender ; but it w as accompan iedby a sense of grate ful obliga tion and t he perception tha t theyhad been li fted to h is mora l plane, from which an unw orthyact would hopelessly ban ish them.



it a noble example of tragic art . Macbeth is not only, as Ha llam ca lled it, the great epic drama , but a lso the great heroicdrama . The act ion is shrouded in mysterious gloom, or

lurid w ith an unholy supernatura l light ; the persons of thedrama move in shadow

,vast, sombre , and ma jestic, like be

ings of some older and la rger crea tion. As in the“ Iliad,

”

Achilles, Ulysses, and Agamemnon dea l with the Immorta ls,give t he sw ord - thrust or rece ive the wound , so when Banquoand stout Macduf

'

f, t he sa intly Duncan and bloody Macbeth ,enter the field of vision, the meaner race of morta ls van ishesfrom sight. Hence the artist ic effects of this play are not produced by n ice gradations of shade, but by strong contrasts ofcolor in scene , incidents, circumstance, and charact er. The

elements are in tumult ; and the landscape, black benea th thelowering storm - cloud , is, nevertheless

,belted with peaceful

bands of sunshine . Fell murder and dire cruelty work out

their purposes on innocence and loya lty, and fi na l retribut ionis met

“

dareful, bea rd to bea rd by defiant remorse. Mac

beth, is indeed, a tremendous epic in dramatic form—an epicin the rush and swirl of i t s objective action, but a very pmanof subjective evolution struck from the fervid lyre of a hea rtw hite hot . But implicit within the folds of i t s roya l draperyof poetry, indeed, a t the very hea rt of i t s ancient legend,couches one of the problems of destiny—a mystery of the

human soul—which w e would do well to pluck forth , and laybare to the scrut iny of our intelligence.

I have not select ed this tragedy because it s problem is themost diffi cult to solve, for, on t he contra ry, it is the mostobvious ; but it is one of the grandest and most pathetic . Itis t he old story of temptation , crime, and retributive justice .

Hamlet and Macbeth were fi n ished a lmost about t he samet ime ; Hamlet , as an idea which had grow n through a seriesof years and been worked out to i t s consumma tion ; and Mac

beth, probably suggested by it, hurled from the cra ter of t heauthor’s imagination into the empyrean . Together they con

st i tute the obverse and reverse of the heaven - stamped meda lw e ca ll the human w ill . They are psychologica l complements of each other. In Hamlet the renunciation of the hu

man will is ba lanced by t he despotism of will in Macbeth . I n

Hamlet,“

the court ier, soldier, schola r, the expectancy and


rose of the fa ir state,”is quite, quite dow n

”—and why ?Because, a morbid conscience and irresolute hea rt keep hissubtle intellect in play, unti l the moment for action has passed,and his vaci llation overwhelms with ruin a l l his house. But the

Thane of Glamis, audacious, merciless and prompt, closeswith h is opportun ity, and on the instant puts h is soul pastsurgery. Al l must bend or break before the energy of his

tremendous will and h is lawless Inst of domin ion . But Ne

mesis fol lows him too, and his crime works out i t s inevitablepena lty.

e at: at:

The felicity of Shakespeare’s gen ius shows itsel f in the

selection of the time and place and plot of this tragedy. Surely , these are not accidents. The venue is la id in t he borderland of fact and fable. Macbeth w as a contemporary of

tha t Edward t he Con fessor whose reign lingered for generations in the fancy of Saxon England as a golden age. It w asto Shakespea re a heroic age ; and the figures and events ofh is crea tion loom up loftily through twilight and mist, toolarge and vague, perhaps, did not human passions so sharplydefi ne them.

But the place as well as the time of the drama evoke a

vivid interest . Scotland, though neighboring, w as yet a lmostunknown to Englishmen of that day , and a series of tragicevents and the ca lamities of kings had just linked i t s historywith that of England. James I had but just come to the

throne ; and to Southern eyes Scotland lay like a mounta inlake , ha l f robed in romance and hal f veiled in mystery .

Under the enchanter’s wand, this gloomy background fadedinto a land of shadows, t he curta in of the unseen world w as

l i fted, and the powers of the a ir mingled with human act orsa s persons of t he drama .

The staple of the story,too, is not without strong para l

le l isms to events which had recently greatly excited t he publicmind . Ea rl Gowrie’s conspiracy , a imed a t t he li fe of JamesI , w as still fresh in the memories of men . The plots knownas

“

the Ma in”and

“

the Bye ,”for the murder of the King

and the enthronement of h is cousin ,Arabella Stuart, had lately

occurred ; and the tria ls of Sir Wa lter R a leigh and others hadaw akened the liveliest interest touching regicide and the breach


of a clear title to the crown . I f, as best con jectured, this playw as completed ea rly in 1 606, then it came just on the hee l ofthe Gunpow der Plot, which had been fixed for November 5 ,1 605 ; and the tria ls of the w retched fanatics w ho had com

passed t he destruction of King and Parliament had made t hepopular mind familiar w ith projects of slaughter and the

casuistry of assassina t ion . Shakespea re’s trea tment of his

theme commended itsel f not only to the Prince , but to the

people ; and w h ile he adapted it to the spirit of the age, and

even to the passing mood of the public, he evinced his transcendent gen ius by producing a poem of perenn ia l interest , t hespectacle of a titan ic nature utterly cast down and ruined ini t s great spiritua l struggle . Neither in prologue, nor in epi

logue, nor in the mouth of any interlocutor, does t he authorannounce the mora l of the play. Yet he w ho runs may read.

It is the contest for t he soul of a man . The powers of da rkness w restle w ith and vanquish him.

W e can properly understand this tragedy only by firstunderstand ing i t s supernatura lism . To do this aright w e mustlook a t it from the author’s standpoint . There is scarcelyany subject in litera ture more fascina ting than the study of

post - mediaeva l supernatura lism as embodied in the plays ofShakespeare . This is an age and country of a skepticism so

genera l and pervad ing that w e fi nd it hard to conceive of

the immense mass of superstition which overla id the Christ ian i ty of the Middle Ages. Folk - lore, the hiera rchy of angelsand demons, the rea lm of faery, the habits and manners of

ghosts ; witchcra ft, w ith i t s law s, customs, cultus, and crimina l

practices ; auguries, oracles, sorcery, and other man i festa tionsof occult power ; spells, ta lismans, elixirs, and a lchemy con

juring w ith the unknown and unsubdued forces of natureastrology and the influence of the stars ; t he mean ing ofdreams and visions ; in a w ord the whole world of the unrea lhad been systema ti z ed int o a complete code and body of su

perna tura l mythology, believed a like by peasant and prince,by lea rned and unlearned, and by a l l classes of the community .

Relics of this rema in imbedded in our earlier litera ture, likefl ies in amber ; and other relics still yet crop out in the fan

cies, the follies, and the crimes of the present generation .

This vast mach inery of mythology , w hich then represented to


the popular mind the secondary causes through which Godgoverns h is un iverse, seems to us but t he ka leidoscopic phasesof a disordered dream, a mirage,

“

an unsubstantia l pageant .”

But to our ancestors it w as as rea l and solid as the rockribbed ea rth.

I n Shakespea re’s day , the British people w as in t he primeof nationa l manhood . The light w as breaking, and the emancipa t ed human intellect w as waking from the dreams of a

thousand years. The prophetic soul of Shakespea re acceptedthe popular belie fs as modes of expression , and employed themas symbols for the unseen forces of na ture and spirit, in w hichdwell activities more potent than even superstition could con

jure up . And it w as through this high poetic and philosophicpow er, this eminen t gi ft of imagina tion and understand ingw orking together, tha t he produced the terrible and highlyidea li z ed conception of superna tura l agency embod ied in the

Weird Sisters. These and Banquo’s ghost, the appa ritions, theomens, the ai r- drawn dagger, the mysterious voice, are but

the signs and formulas through which he represents the

problem of evil, w ith which Macbeth grapples, and w hich hesolves to his ow n tempora l and eterna l ruin .

A canon of Shakespearian criticism, somewhat fanci fulperhaps, has been advanced , that t he first scene, or even the

fi rst words, of a play, wi l l often strike the keynote of theentire action . In Macbeth, certa inly, they have a curious sig

n ifi cance . The enchanter waves h is wand, and the tragedybegins. Where ? “

In a desert place,”or

“ Open place,”as

some will have it ;“with thunder and lightn ing.

”I s it on

land or sea , or do the witches“ hover through the fog and filthy

a ir Whether w e picture it as a ba rren hea th , or above theferment of the deep, w e know tha t

“the secret , black, and mid

n ight hags are ga thered on the confines of hell, with t he

ga tes ajar. Amid the tumult of t he elements, and the mut

t erings of familia r sp irits, the ominous question is shriekedforth,

When sha ll w e three meet aga in ?

This is answ ered by these juggling fi ends, when theynext appea r as tempters of Macbeth . The fi ne lyrica l move


ment of the scene reaches i ts highest pi tch in the diabol icsuggestions of the chorus

Fair is foul , and foul is fa ir.

This phrase symboliz es the reversa l of the divine order ofna ture, t he love of evi l for i t s ow n sake , t he un forgivablesin . That this is not a mere conceit is evinced by the veryfi rst words tha t Macbeth utters :

So foul and fa ir a day I have not seen.

This is t he human response to the in ferna l suggest ion , and

points to t he mora l con fusion which infects the fa irest stateof man. This cannot be accidenta l . It is but one instanceamong many in Shakespea re where the echo of the mysteriousfootfa ll of the future is heard by an inner sense, and t he

word of unconscious prophecy is uttered . By this I do not

mean that those omens and prodigies cited a fter Duncan’s

dea th, nor the predictions of the witches, but somethingsubtler, akin to t he derided and dreaded presentiment of evi l.

i t i t i t i t

At the point of Duncan’s doom, Macbeth trembled, andhis wi fe chided him as

“ infi rm of purpose.

”But his man’

s

na ture w as made of the sterner stuff . As he stepped fromcrime to crime, w ha t with the swing of his sceptre and his

angry work of repression , he became“ bloody, bold, and

resolute .

” Baffled by juggling friends, betrayed by court iers,and bereft of wife, h is hea rt d id not break, nor h is bra in become frenz ied. H e opposed himsel f like a Titan, to the ven

geance of heaven and the dread of hell—fear of man he neverknew . The mom of in ferna l prophecy sank under him, and

yet he w ould not fl y . Then , championed to t he utterancew ith fate,

”a t the last he falls l ike a sold ier

,sword in hand ,

unrepent ing and defiant .The poetic justice which assigns awakened sensibility as a

necessary part of the pena lty of sin is incorrect . Macbethdisplays a more usua l form of pun ishment . A gradua l ha rden ing of the heart , a constant mora l descent , with neitherability nor wish to reca ll the lost innocence, and an increasingcata logue of crimes ensue, until the whip of scorp ions and the

WILLIAM PRESTON JOHNSTON 2829

avenging Furies are needed to shake h is obdurate soul . In

h im w e lea rn that there is no disconnected sin , but that offencesare the links in an endless cha in , harnessing cause to remotestconsequence, and dragging the guilt - burthened soul dow nw ardforever. W e saw him a t first

,w i th “ love , honor, obedience,

troops of friends.

”And now ,

in their stead,

Curses not loud but deep, mouth - honor,brea th ,

Wh ich the poor heart w ould fa in deny, and dare not .

It is thus that Sa tan fulfill s h is promises. Even in the

moment of fruition ,w hen success seemed to have justified

h is usurpation, he received a bitter foretaste of h is awfulfuture . Shakespea re does not pa lter w i t h this aspect of crime .

H e fills the meed of tempora l prosperity for t he murderer,crow ns him, surrounds h is throne w ith obsequious courtiers,crushes his enemies, and gives him a l l

Thou hast i t now ; King, Caw dor, Glam is, a l l ,As the w eird women promised.

But he does not give him one happy moment. L ady Macbeth says to him :

How now ,my lord ! w hy do you keep a lone,

Of sorriest fancies your compan ions mak ing ?

He bewa ils that they must

SleepIn the afll ict ion of the terrible dreamsThat shake us n ightly ; better be w i th the dead,Whom w e, to ga in our place, have sent to peace.

The mora l isolation of Macbeth and h is wife is markedfrom the moment of his crime . The fissure gradua lly w idensun t il it becomes an abyss of distrust, ha tred—and revolt . The

thanes fa l l aw ay, t he soldiers blench

And none serve w ith h im but constra ined th ings,Whose hearts are absent too.

This mora l isolation—this segregation from human sym

pa thy—ends in the a lienation of t he guilty pa ir ; and the irmutua l affection, once so tender, closes in cold d isregard. Sel


fi shness is the essence of sin , and in absolute selfi shness it findsi t s consummation .

Macbeth is a tragedy indeed . It is the spectacle of a humansoul, which , under no despotism of dest iny, but in the ex er

c ise of a lawless will,accepts the bribe of the tempter, and

thus makes a destiny for itsel f—the destiny of perdition . W e

see a man of might , w ith his feet planted on a rock. To w in

a gi lded bauble he plunges into the sea . He is a strong swimmer in the a rms of the w hirlpool ; but they are a rms whichwill not give up their prey. The lesson of Macbeth is a sad

and solemn one . It bids us look into the abysses of our ow nsouls, lest therein may lurk some motive to tempt us to our

doom. And it teaches this lesson by exhibiting a human soul—a grand, heroic soul—tempted, struggling, betrayed , lost .I n the words of the Preacher

, the son of David, King inJerusa lem :

“Let us hea r the conclusion of the whole matter :

fear God, and keep H is commandments : for this is the wholeduty of man . For God sha ll bring every w ork into judgment,with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether i t beevil.”

CREATION

Extract from Evolut ion and Crea t ion ,

”in

‘My Garden Walk .

’

In the beginning w as the Word ;It brea thed i t s fi a t , Chaos stirred ;Obed ient to the First Great Cause,It moved according to His law s,And order reigned, design preva iled,Nature w as born, and li fe unveiled .

Whether our minds can grasp this plan,Or trace the origin of man

,

Why agon i z ing reel in doubt ?Why gibe and jeer and mock and floutAt those sel f - centred truths w hich standL ike beacons on a desert strand ?On each soul’s consciousness they rest,Sel f - evidentia l , and impressedWith that sharp Signet ,

"

on w hose face,Deep

- graved,“Necessity,

”w e trace.



And in crea tion, be the causeH is first or secondary laws,By countless links this endless cha inLeads back a t last to God aga in.

REV. B. M. PALMER , D . D

From ‘Seekers aft er God.

’

For fourscore yea rs he t rod this morta l earth,Unsoiled by touch with a l l i t s devious ways ;So good men loved h is gen ius and h is worthAnd freely gave him honest meed of pra ise ;And thus he rounded out h is length of daysI n usefulness and honor. So he becameThe guide of souls lost in li fe’s tangled maz e ;But still his work w as in h is Master’s name,Willing to bea r for Him t he cross of shame .

With potent teach ing h is w inged words went wide,Searching the hea rts of men as with a flame ;And as he told how Jesus lived and d ied,On seraph

’s p inions h is rapt sp i rit soared

And o’er the world i t s holy influence poured.

THE LADDER

From ‘ Pictures of the Pa t ri archs.’

Work plows the furrow, sows the seed,And ga rners every golden deed,Whose plenteous store and pricel ess w orthSpread peace and kindness through the ea rth .

Pa tience, long - suffering, will abideI n hOpe though angry fa te may ch ideWhat i lls i t s medicine may not cure,It bids thee bear ; wa it and endure.

Love pa ints the li ly, gilds the gold,Relights the eye tha t waxeth ol d,

G ives earth i t s cha rm, gives heaven i t s bliss,Forecasts a better world in this.


Fa ith is the light and prayer the eye

Tha t to our vision ope the sky ;

With prayer and patience, work and love,W e climb, w e soa r, w e live above .

To work, to wa it, to love, to pray ;I f thus my li fe might wea r away,Not fort une’s smi le, nor fortune

’s frown,

Would li ft me up, could cast me down .

LA G ITANA

From ‘My Garden Wa lk.’

AS the ta ll lily,bending before the light breez e,

Lends her lips to h is kisses with playful devotion,

Or the Niobe - willow, the saddest of trees,

Waves i t s silver- lined foliage with tremulous motion,

So sways La Gitana , Gitana , Gitana ,So waves La Gitana her light tambourine .

As bright cloudlets a t sunset, a l l purple and gold,Slow ly soar in t he amethyst liquid and tender,

Or the butterfly, fl itting o’er woodland and w old,Stoops to kiss for a moment the dahlia

’s proud splendor,

So gl ides La Gitana , G itana , Gitana ,So bends La Gitana , with light tambourine.

AS the mystic cica la repeats h is shrill notes,Or the mocking - bird w oos, h is serenade singing,

Or t he la rk, w ho a t daw n in the midheaven floats,O

’er meadow and upland sends h is clea r carols ringing,So trills La Gitana , Gitana , Gitana ,So sings La Gitana , with light tambourine.

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR .

[ 1 1131—1 393]

W I LLIAM H. FLEMING

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR. , w as h ighly representativeof t he finest type of our Southern civ i l i z a tion. Indeed, he w as

a na tura l product, physica lly, men ta lly, and mora lly, of the bestl ineage and the most favorable environments of that ante - bellumperiod of the South. Inheri ting the blood of di st ingui shed ances

tors—the Pinckneys, Haynes, Sw intons, and L egarés, w ho for gen

era t ions had been prominent in the h istory of South Carol ina—hew as born October 28 , 1 831 , in Savannah , Georgi a , and spent h is earlyyouth on h is father’s p lanta tion in L iberty Coun ty, a commun i tynoted for i t s culture and refinemen t. Here he engaged in the invig

ora ting sports of hun ting, fishing, and riding, w h i ch helped to give

him t he Splend id physica l development tha t con tributed so much to

h is persona l dign i ty and man ly beauty—for in any assemblage h ista ll , w el l- proportioned figure, h is shapely head, and finely chi sel edfea tures commanded instan t a tten tion , w h i le he charmed a l l w ho

met h im w i th the courtly manners of a Chesterfield.

Here, too, under the guidance of hi s fa ther, Rev. Charl es C.

Jones, D .D . , a prominent Presbyterian min ister, h is menta l facul tiesw ere carefully cultiva ted, and, a fter Spending a few years a t the

South Carol ina College a t Columbia , he w as sent to Princeton ,New

Jersey, then the most favored insti tution of learn ing among ambitious young Southerners, especia lly those of Presbyteri an ex traction.

After gradua ting from Princeton in 1 852, he en tered t he l aw

school a t Harvard Un ivers ity, received h is degree in 1 855, and w as

promptly admi tted to the Bar for the practice of his chosen profession in Savannah , Georgia .

In 1 860, he w as, w ithout sol ici ta tion on h is part, elected Mayorof Savannah , but in the fa ll of the follow ing year he resigned tha tcivic ofli ce to take a more act ive part in mi l i tary operations in the

field as sen ior First L ieutenant of the Chatham Art i llery. On Octoher 7, 1 862, he received a commission ,

first as Ma jor, and then as

Li eutenan t- colonel of Art i llery, in the regular Con federa te Army,his command embra cing Georgia , Florida , and the Third Mi l i taryDistrict of South Carol ina .

In recogn i tion of his abi l i ty, he w as soon tendered a commi ssion2835


as Brigadier- genera l of In fantry, but this honor he decl ined on

account of h is devoted preference for t he art i llery. Thi s a rm ofthe serv ice had such a fascina tion for h im that, subsequent to t he

w ar, a fter resid ing for tw elve years in New York and Brooklyn ,

upon return ing South and purcha sing h is new home, “Montrose,

”

in the v i llage Of Summervi lle, nea r Augusta , Georgi a , he produceda striking art i stic effect by placing a mounted “Revolutionary can

non in the spa cious grounds in front of t he mansion—i tsel f a strueture of perfect archi tectura l design . In the mouth of thi s engine ofw ar, t he birds in peace now bui ld their nests, w h i le the deli ca tetendri ls of a jessam ine vine have locked the stout w heels tha t oncebore the cannon into action .

”

Colonel Jones w as married November 9, 1 858, to M i ss RuthBerrien Wh i tehead, of Burke County, Georgi a , and this un ion w as

blessed w ith tw o ch i ldren , Julia ,w ho d ied in in fancy, and Ruth

Berrien , now the w i fe of Rev. S . B . Carpenter, rector of the Churchof Atonement in Augusta . H is first w i fe having d ied, he w as

ma rri ed October 28, 1 863, to M i ss Eva Berrien Eve, of Augusta ,Georgi a , w ho bore h im one ch i ld, Cha rles Edgew ort h Jones, w ho

has inheri ted much of his fa ther’s fondness and ta lent for h i s

torica l research.

Though Colonel Jones w as educated for the l aw , and w as thoroughly equipped for the successful pract ice of h is profess ion , in

w hich he a tta ined in his earlier years marked eminence, h is na t

ura l bent of m ind incl ined h im more tow ard histori ca l researchand the a l luring paths of l i tera ture.He gave much time to the study of the early I ndians of the

South , and accumula ted some th irty thousand specimen s of rel i csi llustra ting their customs and occupa tions. H is w ork enti tled ‘

An

t iqui t ies of the Southern I nd ian s’ ( 1 873) show ed pa instaking t e

search and scient ific treatment , and a t once introduced h im to the

scholars and scienti sts of the Ol d World as an arche ologi st of highauthority.

Among h is other interest ing h i storica l collect ions may be ment ioned his series of autograph letters and portra i ts of the S igners Ofthe D eclara t ion of Independence ; of Pres iden t s of the Con tinenta lCongress ; of Presidents and Vice -

pres idents of the Un ited Sta tesof Members of the Cont inenta l Congress ; of the Chie f Just ices andAssocia te Just ices of the Supreme Court of the Un i ted States, and

the Attorney- generals of the Un ited States ; of the Delega tes to theConsti tut iona l Convent ion of 1 787 ; and of the Signers of the Confedera te Const i tution .

H is most important production w as his‘H istory of Georgia ,’

(1 883) in tw o volumes, covering the aborigina l , the colonial , and

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR. 2837

the revolutionary epochs. The learn ing d isplayed in th is w ork, as

w ell a s i t s eleva ted tone, i t s cla ss ic d iction , and i t s striking style,

w on for i t s author, from no less an authority than t he h istorianBancroft, t he t i tle of “

the Macaulay of t he South .

”

Colonel Jon es w as not only a learned scholar and pol i shed w ri

t er, but he w as a lso an accompl i shed ora tor. His abi l ities in th i srespect w ere ex emplified on many notable occa sions, especia lly a fterh i s return to Georgia ,

in 1 877, w here he soon became t he leadingsp iri t in the Con federate Surv ivors’ Associa t ion a t Augusta—procla im ing a lw ays the righteousness of t he Lost Cause, and ex toll ingt he va lor and virtues of those w ho gave their l ives in i t s defence.Surrounded by h is kindred and friends, he w as loved and hon

ored to the day of his dea th , July 1 9, 1 893 ; and h is body, w rapped inthe flag of the Con federacy, w as given by h is surv iving comradesa soldi er’s buria l.H is capaci ty for w ork w as marvelous . Aside from his achieve

ments a s a soldier and a law yer, he left behind h im e ighty permanent publ ica tion s, of w hich fourteen are books, e ight a re pamph

lets , thirty are addresses, five are w orks edited and transla ted, and

tw enty- three are maga z in e art icles, t he most important of w hich are

more part icularly enumera ted in the appended B ibl iography.I n 1 879 he v i si ted England , Scotland, and the Continent, and

has left a va luable j ourna l of his travels, consi sting of thirteenhundred manuscript pages.

The degree of LL .D . w as con ferred upon him by the Un iversi tyof the Ci ty of New York in 1 880, and a lso by Emory College, Georgia ,

in 1 882 . The w ide recogn i tion of hi s scholarly a tta inmentsi s furt her evidenced by h is membersh ip in many learned societies,among the more prom inent Of w hich may be mentioned the following : Georgia H i storica l Soci ety ; New York H istorica l Soc iety ;American Antiquarian Soci ety, Worcester, Ma ssachusetts ; LongI sland H istorica l Society ; State Hi storica l Society of Wi sconsin ;Rhode I sland H istorica l Society ; V irgin ia H i storica l Society ; Societe Roya le des Ant iqua ires da Nord, Copenhagen ,

D enmark ; Num isma t ic and Antiquarian Society of Ph i ladelph ia ; Ma ine H i storica lSociety ; Roya le Societa D idasca l ica I ta l iana , Rome, I ta ly ; Mi ssi ss ippi H i storica l Society.

Dante, in gra teful recogn i tion Of h is indebtedn ess to Virgi l, sang

Thou, he , from w hom a lone I deriveTha t style , w hich, for i t s beauty, into fameEx a lts me.”

The subj ect of th i s sketch has left no acknow ledgment of his obl iga tion to any particular “ tea cher” or guide” ; but a perusa l


of the accompanyi ng ex tra ct s from his w ri t ings w i l l convince the

reader tha t h is st yle w as modeled a fter t he cl assi ca l authors, w hichfact accounts, no doubt, for the frequent occurren ce of invertedforms and involved sentences tha t might have overburdened though tsless vigorous than h is ow n. H is compan ionship w i th the Greek and

La tin h i storians, poets, and ora tors w as so intima te tha t he gl idedimperceptibly in to th eir w ay of th inking—and, a fter a l l , w ha t isst yle, in w ri ting or speak ing, but the ex pressou of the manner inw hi ch the mind th inks ?He fil l s a un ique and conspicuous place in Southern li tera ture.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Monumen ta l Rema ins of Georgia . 1 86 1 .

H ist ori ca l Sketch of Tomo- Ch i - Ch i , Mi co of the Yamacraw s.

1 868.

Remin iscences of the Last Days, Dea th and Burial of Genera lHenry Lee. 1 870.

Antiqui ties of the Southern I ndians, pa rticula rly of the GeorgiaTribes. 1 873.

Antiqui ty of the North Ameri can I ndians. 1 874.

The S iege of Savannah in D ecember, 1 864, and the Con federa teOpera tions in Georgi a and the Th ird M i l i tary D i stri ct of SouthCarolina during Genera l Sherman’s March from Atl an ta to the

Sea . 1 874.

Sargeant Wi l liam Ja sper. 1 876.

A Roster of Genera l Omcers, Heads of D epartments, Sena tors,Representa tives, M i l i tary Organ i z ation s, etc. , in Con federa te Ser

vi ce during the W a r betw een t he Sta tes. 1 876.

D ead Tow n s of Georgia. 1 878 .

Ora tion upon t he occa sion of the Unvei l ing and D ed i ca ti on oft he Con federa te Monument in Augusta , Georgi a . 1 878.

The Georgia H istori ca l Society ; I ts Founders, Pa trons, and

Friends. 1 881 .

Funeral Ora tion upon the occa sion of the Obsequies of Governor Alex ander H . Stephens. 1 883.

The H i story Of Georgia ; Vol. I , Aboriginal and Colonial Epochs



and thought ful study could supply, there w as that about h isperson , character, atta inments

,and abilities which inspired

confidence , and rendered Mr. Oglethorpe, beyond dispute, theman of his age and people best qua lified to inaugurate and

conduct to a successful issue an enterprise so entirely in un i

son w ith his ow n philanthropic sentiments and so importantto the interests of both England and America .

Promoted to a major- genera lcy,and then to a lieutenant

genera lcy, and fina lly comm issioned as genera l in the Britisharmy, reta in ing h is sea t in Pa rliament until 1 754, recogn iz edas Governor of t he colony of Georgia until the surrender oft he charter of the province by the tr ustees in 1 752 , and a lwaysman i festing t he liveliest interest in t he wel fare of that plant a t ion , the compan ion and friend of Dr. Johnson

, Goldsmith,Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Miss Hannah More, Boswell,Horace Wa lpole , Mrs. Montagu,

Mrs. Ga rrick, Mrs. Bos

caw en , Mrs. Ca rter and of many others scarcely less distinguished for their socia l and intellectua l qua lities, the pa tronof lea rn ing, the soul of honor, t he embod iment of loya lty andva lor, and the model of manly grace and courtesy, he died onthe I st of July, 1 785 , full of yea rs, and crow ned with un iversa l respect . The morn ing of h is li fe had been stormy, thenoon tempestuous, but t he evening of his days w as ful l ofhappiness and tranquill ity.

I have got a new admirer, writes Miss Hannah Morefrom Mrs. Carrick’s house in the Adelphi ,

“

and w e fl irt together prodigiously ; it is t he famous Genera l Oglethorpe,perhaps the most rema rkable man of his time . He w as fosterbrother to the Pretender, and is much above ninety yearsol d ; the finest figure of a man you ever saw . H e perfect lyrea l i z es a l l my ideas of Nestor. H is literature is great, h isknow ledge of t he w orld ex tensive, and his faculties as brightas ever. H e is one of t he three persons still living w ho weremen t ioned by Pope ; Lord Mansfield and Lord Marchmontare t he other tw o. H e w as t he intimate friend of Southern ,

t he tragic poet , and a l l t he w its of h is time . H e is perhaps theoldest man of h is generation living. I went to see him the otherday , and he w ould have enterta ined me by repeating passagesfrom Sir E ldred . H e is quite a preux cheva l ier, heroic, romantic, and full of t he old ga llantry .

”Dr. Johnson wished

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR . 2841

to write his li fe, and Edmund Burke regarded him as the

most ext raordina ry person of whom he had ever read, because he had founded a province , and l ived to see it severedfrom the empire which crea ted it , and erected into an independent state . A short time be fore h is death ,

he pa id hisrespects to Mr. John Adams

,who had a rrived in London as

t he first min ister plen ipotentia ry of the Un ited Sta tes ofAmerica nea r the Court of St . James. There w as somethingpeculia rly interesting in this interview . H e w ho had plantedGeorgia , and nurtured it in i t s earliest stages of i t s dependentcond ition as a colony

,held converse with him w ho had come

to a roya l court as t he representative of i t s separate nationa lex i stence.

H is body reposes within Cranham church ,'

and a memoria ltablet there procla ims his excellences ; but here the Savannahrepea ts to the Al a t amaha t he story of h is virtues and of h isva lor, and t he Atlant ic publishes to the mounta ins t he greatness of his fame, for al l Georgia is his living, speaking monumen t.

STIRRING SCENES OF THE REVOLUTION

From ‘H istory of Georgi a .

’

FORWARDED by day and by n ight came the new s of thea ffa irs a t Lexington and Concord . It reached Savannah on

t he even ing of the 1 0th of May , and crea ted t he profoundestexcitement . Gage’s order, promulgated by the haughty lips ofMa jor Pitca irn on that epocha l day D isperse, ye V i lla ins :

ye Rebels disperse ;—w as answ ered with defiant shouts fromt he gran ite hills of New England to the echoing savannahs ofthe south. The blood of yeoman shed on Lexington green ,

cemented the un ion of the colon ies. The thunders of the 1 9th

of April awoke t he Georgia parishes from thei r letha rgy and

turned the popul a r tide in favor of resistance to pa rliamentaryrule.

The magaz ine a t the eastern extremity of Savannah , bui ltof brick and sunk some twelve feet under ground , conta ineda considerable supply of ammun ition . So substantia l w as


this structure, that Governor Wright deemed it useless to

post a guard for i t s protect ion . The excited Revolutioni st sa l l over the land cried a loud for powder. Impressed with t henecessity of securing the contents of this maga z ine for futureOperations, quietly assembling and hastily arranging a planof opera tions, Dr. Noble W. Jones, Joseph Habersham , Ed

wa rd Tel fa ir, William Gibbons, Joseph Clay, John Milledgeand some other gentlemen

,most of them members of the coun

cil of sa fety, and a l l z ealous in the cause of American l iberty,a t a late hour on the n ight of the 1 1 th of May , 1 775 , brokeopen the maga z ine, and removed therefrom about six hun

dred pounds of gunpowder. A portion w as sent to Beaufort,South Ca rolina , for sa fe keep ing, and the rest w as concea ledin the garrets and cellars of the houses of the captors. Uponascerta in ing the robbery, Governor Wright immedia tely issueda proclama tion offering a reward of £ 1 50 sterling for the

apprehension of the offenders. It elicited no’ in forma tion

on the subject, a lthough the actors in the matter are sa id tohave been w ell known in the community. The popular heartw as too deeply st irred, and the

“ Sons of L iberty were toopotent to tolerate any hindrance or annoyance a t t he handsof Roya list informers. The tradition lives, and is general lycredited that some of the powder thus obta ined w as forwa rdedto Cambridge, Massachusetts, and w as actua lly expended bythe patriots in the memorable battle of Bunker Hill. W e

know that the liberty - loving citiz ens of Savannah, on the I st

day of June, 1 775 , deeply moved by the distresses whi ch theBoston ians were experiencing from the enforcement of the“ late acts of a cruel and vindictive Min istry,

”and a rdently

desiring tha t the noble stand they had taken in t he defenseof those rights to which as men and British subjects they wereent itled might be crowned with success, transmitted by t he

Jul iana, Capta in Stringham, and under the specia l conductof John Ea ton LeCont e, Esq . , sixty - three barrels of rice, andone hundred and twenty- two pounds sterling in specie for t herelief of such as had recen tly left the town of Boston . It is

not improbable tha t the powder in question may have beenforwarded in some such w ay a t an earlier day .

It has been the custom in the province to celebrate with

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES , JR . 2843

festivities and milita ry sa lutes the king’s birthday,which oc

curred Ou the 4th of June. Notw ithstanding the unsettl edcond ition of affa irs, Governor Wright w as loa th to omit theusua l forma l ities. H e accordingly on the I st of June issuedorders for suitable preparations in anticipa tion of the event .On the n ight of the z ud , a number of the inhabitants of Savannah came together, and having spiked a l l the cannon on

the bay , d ismounted and rolled them to the bottom of the

bluff . Such w as the pointed insult offered to the memory ofhis ma jesty. It w as with great difficulty that some of thesedisabl ed guns could be drilled and restored to their positionsin battery in time to pa rticipate in the loya l ceremon ies of

the 4th , which as that day chanced to fa ll on Sunday, wereObserved on Monday following.

The fi rst liberty pole erected in Georgia w as elevated inSavannah on the sth of June , 1 775 . The Roya lists were thencelebrating t he king’s birt hday. The

“

L iberty Boys,”in t es

t imony of their desire for a reconcilia tion with the mothercountry on the bas is of a recogn ition of constitutiona l principles and colonia l privileges, a t the feast w hich they prepared,drank as the first regula r toast THE KI NG. The second w as

AMERI CAN L I BERTY.

Within a week a fterwards thirty- four leading friends tot he un ion of the colon ies convened in Savannah and adopteda series of spirited resolutions recommending an early associa tion of Georgia with her sister colon ies and suggesting an

equitable adjustment of the unhappy differences existing between Great Brita in and America .

On the 2 1 5 t of June w as published a ca ll signed by NobleW. Jones, Archiba ld Bulloch, John Houstoun, and GeorgeWa lton ,

request ing the inhabitants of the town and districtof Savannah to meet a t the liberty pole on the following daya t ten O’clock in the forenoon for the purpose of selecting a

committee to bring about a un ion of Georgia with the othercolonies in the cause of freedom. The al arming situationof the affa irs in America , and particularly in this province,w as urged as a reason for punctual and genera l attendance .

At the appointed place and designated hour many werepresent. A council of sa fety, consisting of William Ewen,


president, William LeConte, Joseph Clay, Basil Cooper, Samuel E lbert , William Young, E lisha Butler, Edw ard Telfa ir,John Glenn , George Houstoun , George Wa lton , Joseph H a

bersham, Francis H . Harris, John Smith, and John Morel,members, and Seth John Cuthbert, Secreta ry, w as nominat ed w ith instructions to ma inta in an active correspondencew ith the Continenta l Congress, w ith the counci ls of sa fety inother provinces, and w ith the committees appointed in the

other parishes in Georgia . This business concluded, a num

ber of gentlemen d ined a t Tondee’

s tavern . The un ion flagw as hoisted upon t he libert y pole, and t w o field pieces wereposted a t i ts foot . Th i rteen pa triotic toasts were drunk, eachbeing responded to by a sa lute from the cannon and byma rtia l music.

THE PRIVATE SOLDIER

From “ Orat ion at t he Unvei ling of t he Con fed era t e Monumen t.” Augusta , Georgia ,October 3 1 , 1 878.

AND now above Brigad ier - genera l, and Ma jor- genera l , andL ieutenant - genera l and full Genera l, yea , upon the very summit of this imposmg cenotaph, see the manly form of thePRIVATE SOLDI ER of the Con federa te a rmy ; t he eloquent embodymen t of the Spirit and prow ess a l ike of this County and

State, and a l l the sleeping hosts w ho, in our crusade for freedom, gave their lives to country, and a record to history thanw h ich none more conspicuous d ign ifi es the anna ls of civili z edw arfare . I n th is att itude of PARADE REST

,in th is elevation far

above the hum of every day li fe and the busy cares of morta l s,w e recogn i z e t he pa l in -

genesis from a va le of smoke and sac

rifi ce and blood and death, to the abode Of peace and eterna lrepose .

With a pa thos entirely i t s ow n does this statue appea l toour hea rts and rivet our attent ion ,

for w ho is there in this vastconcourse w ho does not recogn i z e some fa ther, son , husband,brother, friend , w ho fresh - lipped and full of ardor, left uswhen the trumpet summoned patriots to the field, and camenot home aga in when in t he end the ma rtial gray w as ex

changed for the habiliments of mourn ing, and the Sta rs and


Bars, borne a loft so long and so well, went down in the dustand ca rnage of the stri fe ; went down,

for the hands tha t grasped i t ,And the hearts tha t fondly clasped i tCold and dead are lying low ;And that Banner i t is tra i l ing,Whi le around i t sounds the w a i lingOf i t s people in their w oe ;

For, though conquered, they adore i t ,Love the cold, dead hands tha t bore i t ,Weep for those w ho fell before i t .

I n the grand procession made by the Athen ians in honorof the ir soldiers killed in action , w as borne a sumptuous bier,qui te empty, in remembrance of those whose bodies couldnot be found or identified among the sla in . To- day w e exa ltthis cha racterist ic eidolon in perpetua l recollection of the non

commissioned offi cers and privates, known and unknow n, re

corded and un recorded, recovered or lost, w ho fell in the

Con federa te ranks.

It is deservedly our boast that no mercena ry element , noadventitious a ids, entered into the composition of our armies.

They w ere drawn from the bosom of the Con federacy, and

were the aggregation of the manhood, the intelligence, and thenoblest passions of our land . An imated by impulses and a imsunusua l in the history even of defensive wars, our soldierspossessed an apprecia tion of the issues involved, and acknow l

edged a mora l and persona l accountability in the conduct oft he contest, w hich rendered their acts and utterances remarkable under a l l circumstances. They were in very deed the

representa tives of the rights, the property, the intellectua land socia l worth, t he resolution and the honor of the Confederacy .

“Wonderful men ! What age or country has produced their equals No ma rvel that w e had grea t leaders.

They are begotten of worthy suba lterns, and are made i llustrions by the achievements Of those whom they command .

Whi le it is true that the discipline and efli ciency of an a rmyare in la rge measure due to the ability of the chief, it is equa lly beyond dispute tha t in the l ast ana lysis w e must rely uponthe individua l manhood, the clea r apprehension, the indomi


table will, the persona l pride, and the inherent bravery of thetroops for the h ighest exhibitions of heroic act ion and pa tientendurance.

“ I am commissioned by the President to thank you in

the name of the Con federa te states, for the undying fame youhave w on for their a rms.

” Thus did Genera l Lee , by publ ished order, acknow ledge the genera l obligation . Ea rth fromher present and past can furn ish no higher illustrations of fort i tude, no loftier examples of sel f - den ia l, no surer proofs ofpa triotic devotion than w ere ex h ibited in the lives, acts, anddeaths of the priva te soldiers of the Con federate revolution .

Meet it is tha t their virtues and the honors they have w on

should here find,

A forted residence ’ga inst the tooth of t ime

And ra sure of obl ivion .

Deeply graven on this enduring monument , Open to t he

light of Heaven , and to be known and read of a l l men , w e re

cord this sent iment in honor of our Con federa te dead : “Worthy to have lived and know n our gratitude ; worthy to be ha llow ed and held in tender remembrance ; worthy the fadelessfame wh ich Con federate sold iers w on w ho gave themselvesin li fe and death for us, for t he honor of Georgia ,

for therights of the States, for the liberties of the people , for thesentiments of t he South, for t he principles of the Union, asthese were handed down to them by the fathers of our common country .

”

While the names of chief capta ins survive and are pre

served ou the lists of fame , scant is the memory of those w ho

bore their banners, and , by their toil and blood purchased thevictories w hich made their commanders immorta l .History furn ishes numerous instances in proof of this

assertion, and the record of our Con federa te w ar offers no

exception .

Miltiades, Aristides, and the w ar- ruler Ca llimachus are

remembered as the heroes of that decisive engagement whichbroke the spell of Persian invincibility, preserved for mankindt he intellectua l treasures of Athens, and paved the w ay forthe libera l enlightenment of the Western world . The t en



actors survives only in the genera l recollection of the even t .In the very na ture of things, it happens that

A thousand glorious act ions tha t m ight cla imTriumphant laurels and immorta l fame,Con fused in clouds of glorious a ctions l ie

,

And t roops Of heroes undi stingui shed die.

Because this is so ; because w e desire in the present andfor a l l time to render honor to a l l w ho, w ithout rew a rd , and

amid priva tions and perils the most appalling, in compa rativeobscurity bore the brunt of our battles and w on our victories ;because our wish is that none, however humble, w ho followedthe Red Cross to the death, Should l ie without stone and epi

t aph , do w e now exa lt this statue of the priva te soldier, anddedicate this monumen t to our Con federate dead.

We give in chargeThe ir names to the sw eet Lyre. The H istoric Muse,Proud of the trea sure, marches w i th i t dow nTo la test t imes ; and Sculpture, in her turn

,

Gives bond in stone and ever- during brass,To gua rd them and to immort a l i z e her trust.

SKETCH OF ROBERT TOOMBSFrom “Address before t he Con federa t e Survivors

’Assoc ia t ion ,

”August a. Georgia,

Apri l 26, 1 886.

A MAN of marked physica l beauty ,the idol of a princely

people—golden - tongued and lion - hearted—t he blood of theCava liers flashing in h is veins and the hea rt of the Souththrobbing in his breast—he reca lled the gi fted Mirabeau who,amid scenes scarcely less fiery or fa teful , w a lked the forumlike an emperor and con fronted the commune w ith the ma jestyof a God . H e gloried in the w hirlw ind and caught h is inspira tion from the storm . As though born to kindle a con

flagra t ion, he inflamed by h is w onderful pow er of speech andswayed by his electric fi re . L ike unto a Scythian a rcherscouring the pla in , he traversed the field of a rgument and invect ive and , a t full speed, discharged his deadliest a rrows. In

forensic battle the wheels of h is w ar- chariot, sympathi z ing


w ith the ardent and resistless va lor of him w ho guided them,

grew incandescent .Demosthenes, mingling the thunders of his eloquence with

the roa r of the E gean—Cicero, h is eyes fi xed on the Capitol.wielding a t will the fi erce democracy and inspiring a l l hea rtswith a love of freedom and an admiration for t he triumphs ofthe Roman race—Otis, kindling a pa triot ic flame wherein t he“Writs of Assistance” were wholly consumed—Wa rren ,

in

scribing upon the banners of the Sons of L iberty“Resistance

to tyrants is obedience to God”—Henry , the “ inca rna t ion of

Revolutiona ry Z ea l,” ringing the a la rum bell and giving the

S igna l to a continent—the impassioned Barre, defend ing evenwithin the shadow of the throne the cla ims of the oppressed

- Were not more forcible in utterance, magnetic in action , orma jestic in mien than Robert Toombs when contending fort he privilege of free speech , or procla iming the rights of t heSouth as he comprehended them. The la tter were pa ramountin h is esteem . To the ir assertion w as h is supreme devotionpledged, his best efforts directed . Bold even to temerity in hisassertions—in tone and manner emphatic to the verge of menace—by sudden bursts, savoring a lmost of inspira tion,

essaying a t critica l moments to decide the fate of grea t questions—iconoclastic somet imes in his suggestions—he w as nevert he

less a lways true to the principles of exa lted statesmanship ,and loya l in the last degree to t he best interests of the Southas he forecast them. Mighty w as his influence in precipitatingt he Con federa te revolution . Most potent were his persuasionsin inducing Georgi a to secede from the Un ion . It w as h isboast tha t he would live and d ie an uncompromising Opponentof the unconstitutiona l acts and assumed authority of theGeneral Government.

H is last public utterance, w e believe, w as heard when withtea rful eye , trembling voice, and feeble gesture, he pronouncedin t he Ha ll of Representa tives a t Atlanta a funera l ora tionover the dead body of h is li fe - long friend, Governor Alexander H . Stephens. For sometime prior to his demise, Genera lToombs had been but the shadow of his former great sel f.The dea th of a noble w i fe

,to whom he w as devotedly a t

t ached, proved an afll ict ion too grievous for h is declining

years. The light went out of h is home, and gladness no


longer dwelt in the chambers of his hea rt . Impa ired visiondeprived him of h is ability either to read or to write except a t

interva ls and with d iffi culty. H is idols broken—his com

pan ions departed—h is ambition blighted—his physica l and int el lectua l forces abated, he lingered a lmost a lone in a la tergenera tion w hich knew him not in h is prime . H is splend idperson, months agone , suffered impa i rment a t the advanceof age and the multiplicat ion of sorrow s, and the commanding presence gave place to the bent form and the unsteadyga it of the feeble old man. H is intellect , too, formerly so

authorita tive , massive and captiva ting, became uncerta in in

i t s action . To t he last , however, he continued to denounce thereconstruction measures of Congress, and procla imed himsel fan

“

unpardoned , unreconstructed, and unrepentant Rebel .”

I n the morn ing, a t high noon , and even beyond the meridian of h is manhood , he w as intellectua lly t he peer of the mostgi fted

,and tow ered Atlas- like above the common range . H is

genius w as consp icuous. H is menta l Opera tions were quickas lightn ing, and like t he lightning, they w ere da z z ling intheir brilliancy and resist less in their play. Remarkable wereh is conversa t iona l gi fts, and most sea rching h is ana lyses of

cha racter and event . I n hosp ita lity he w as generous, and inh is domestic relations tender and true . The highest flights offancy, the profoundest depths of pathos, the broadest rangeof biting sarcasm and w ithering invective, genera li z a tions ofthe boldest character, and a rguments t he most logica l, wereequa lly a t h is command . As a law yer, he w as pow erful, asan advoca te, w ell - nigh resistless. H e w as a close student, anddeeply versed in the law s, state - cra ft and politica l history ofthis commonw ea lth and na tion . In a l l h is gladia toria l comba ts, w hether a t the bar, upon the hust ings, or in the legisla tiveha lls, w e reca ll no instance in w hich he met h is overmatch .

Even during h is years of decadence, there were occasionsw hen t he a lmost ex t inct volcano glow ed aga in w ith i ts wontedfi res—w hen the ivy - mantled keep of the crumbling castle re

sumed i t s pristine defiance with deep - toned culverin and pon

derons mace—when amid the colossa l fragments of the tottering temple, men recogn iz ed the unsubdued spirit of SamsonAgonistes.

CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR. 285 1

THE OLD SOUTH AND THE NEW SOUTH

Prom “Address before t he Con federa te Survivors’Associat ion , Augusta. Georgia,

Apri l 26, 1 889.

IN this epoch of commercia l methods—of genera l and increasing poverty in the agricultura l regions of the Southof absorption by foreign capita l of favored loca lities, and ofthe crea tion in our midst of gigantic corporations intent uponse l f - aggrandi z ement, in this era of man i fest modifi ca tion

,i f

not actual obl iteration of those sentiments and modes of

thought and action w hich rendered us a peculia r people—Ica ll you to witness tha t there is a grow ing tendency to belitt l e the influences, the ways, the servi ces, the lessons, and thecharacteristics of former years. I ca ll you to witness thatt he mora l and politica l standard of t he present is not equa lto that set up and z ea lously guarded by our fa thers. I ca ll

you to witness tha t in the stern battle with poverty—in the

effort to retrieve lost fortunes, and in t he a ttempt to amasslarge moneys by speculation—in t he commercia l turn whicht he genera l thought and conduct have recently taken—and in

t he struggle by Shi fts and questionable devices to outstripthe profits of legitimate ventures, there has occurred a low

ering of the tone which marked our former man ly, conservat ive, pa triarchal civili z ation . I ca ll you to w itness tha tmany have attempted and are now endeavoring by apologi z ingfor the a lleged short comings of the past to stulti fy the rec

ord of the olden time, and by fawn ing upon the stranger tocast a reproach upon the friend . I ca l l you to witness thatby fa lse impressions and improper lauda tions of the new or

der of affa irs, men in our midst have sought to minimi z e thecapabilities of the past, and unduly to magni fy the development of the present . I ca ll you to witness tha t by adulationand fulsome enterta inment of itinerant promoters and blatantschemers, seeking to inaugurate enterprises which are de

signed to benefit those only w ho are persona lly interested inthem

, the public has been sadly duped to i t s shame and loss.

I ca ll you to witness that the truest test of civili z a tion liesnot in t he census, in the growth of cit ies, in ra ilw ay combinat ions and the formation of Gargantuan trusts, in t he expan


sion of manufactures, in the manipulation of land schemes andcorporate securities, or in the aggregation of wea lth, but inthe menta l , mora l, political, and economic educa tion and el e

vation of the popula tion . I ca ll you to witness tha t the present inclination to mak e one part of society inordina tely a f

fluent a t the expense of t he w retchedness and unhappinessof t he other, is in derogation of na tura l rights, impa iring theequilibrium and disturbing the repose of t he elements essen

tial to the entity and t he happiness of a grea t, honest, virtuousand democra tic nation . I ca ll you to wit ness, that a reign of

plutocrats—a subjection of men , measures and places to the

will of milliona ires and plethoric synd ica tes—is antagon ist icto the liberty of t he Republic and subversive of persona l freedom . I ca ll you to witness that this adora tion of wea lththis bending t he knee to t he Golden Ca l f—this w orship of

morta ls gi fted w ith t he Midas touch, savors of a sord id debasing fet ichism a t variance w ith the spirit of true religion and

ema sculatory of a l l tokens of robust manhood . I ca ll you towitness tha t “Mammon is the largest slave - holder in t he

world,

”and tha t t he integrity of station and principle is seri

ously imperiled w hen subjected to t he pressure of gold. Ica l l you to w itness tha t cardina l doctrines and exa lted sentiments, w hen assa iled, should, like t roops of the line, standfast ; and a t a l l times, and under a l l circumstances be heldabove and beyond a l l price. I ca ll you to witness tha t t hea lleged prosperity of this commonw ea lth

,ex cept in limited

loca lities, is la rgely a matter of imaginat ion . I ca ll you towitness that eliminating from t he computa tion t he va lue of

slaves as ascerta ined by the returns of 1 860, the sta te of

Georgia is now poorer by more than tw elve millions of dollars than She w as twenty- n ine yea rs ago. I ca ll you to witnesstha t behind this fan - fare of trumpets procla iming the a t

tractions and t he grow th of the New South may too often bedetected the deglutition of the harpy and the chuckle of thehireling. I ca ll you to witness that t he important prob leminvolving the remunerative cultivation of the soil, and the

employment of our agricultura l popula tion upon a basis ofsuitable industry, economy, compensat ion and independence ,is la rgely unsolved . The occupa tion of the planter ly ing a t

t he foundation of a l l engagements and constituting the nor


ma l , t he indispensable, the legitimate, and the honorable avo

cation of t he masses, I ca ll you to witness that every reasonable encouragement should be extended in facilitating h is

labors and in mult iplying the fruits of his toil . I ca ll you towitness tha t genera l prosperity can not be expected whi lesuch ex tensive areas of our territory rema in uncult iva ted ,while so many of our farmers annua lly crave advances. Ica ll you to witness tha t the potent ia lit ies of our former civil i z a t ion . so far from be ing improved, have been sadly retardedby t he issues of w ar. I ca ll you to witness tha t the promisesof the ante - bellum days, had they not thus been rudely thw arted , would have yielded results far transcending those w hichw e now behold . I ca ll you to witness that the grand effortnow is and should be to preserve inviolate the sentiments and

to transmit un impa ired the characteristics of the Old South .

I ca ll you to witness tha t in t he restoration of the good order,the decorum, the honesty, the veracity, the public confidence,the conserva tism, the security to person and property, the hightoned conduct and the manliness of the past lies best hopefor the honor and lasting prosperity of the coming yea rs. Ica ll you to witness tha t the heroic example of other days con

st i tutes, in large measure, the source of the courage of thesucceeding genera tion ; and tha t

“

w hen beckoned onw ard bythe shades of the brave tha t w ere,

”w e may the more con

fi dent ly venture upon enterprises of pith and moment and,without fea r, work out our present and future salvation .

Palsied be t he Southern tongue which w ould Speak disparagingly of a Con federa te past , and withered be the Southern arm tha t re fuses to li ft itsel f in pra ise of the virtue and

the valor which cha racteri z ed the actors from the h ighestto the low est, in a w ar not of rebellion,

”but for the conser

va tion of home, the ma intenance of constitutiona l govern

ment, and the supremacy of law ,and the vindica t ion of the

na tura l rights of man.


JEFFERSON DAVIS

Prom “Funeral Ora t ion,” August a. Georgia , December 1 1 , 1 889.

W HEN Wilkie w as in the Escuria l studying those famouspictures which have so long attracted t he notice of a l l loversof art , an ol d Jeronymite sa id to him :

“ I have sa t da i ly insight of those pa int ings for nea rly four score years. Duringtha t time, a l l who w ere more aged than myself have passedaway. My contemporaries are gone . Many younger thanmysel f are in their graves ; and still t he figures upon thosecanvases rema in unchanged . I look a t them until I sometimes think they are the rea lities and w e but the shadows .

”

The ba ttle scenes which the heroes of the South havepa inted ; t he memories which Con federa te va lor, loya lty and

endurance have bequea thed ; the blessed recollections whichthe pious labors, t he sa intly min ist rations

,and the more than

Spa rtan inspiration of the w omen of the Revolution , have em

ba lmed—these will d ign i fy for a l l time t he anna ls of the civi l i z ed w orld ; but the actors in tha t memorable crisis, they, theshadows—w i ll pass aw ay. Johnston—the Baya rd of theSouth—Jackson—our military meteor streaming upw a rd and

onwa rd in an unbroken track of light and ascend ing to theskies in the z en ith of h is fame—L ee—the most sta in less of

earthly commanders and, except in fortune , the grea test—and

multitudes of their compan ions in a rms have a lready gone .

To w here beyond these vo ices there is peace.

But yesterday Jefferson Davis—the commander of thema l l—the most dist inguished representat ive of a cause whichelectrified the civili z ed w orld by the grandeur of i t s sacrifi ces, t he d ign ity and rectitude of i t s a ims, the nobility of i t spursuit , and t he magnitude and brilliancy of the deeds performed in i t s support , entered into rest. Ours bethe mission to guard well h is memory—accepting it in t he

present , and commending it to the future as redolent of manhood most ex a lted , of virtues varied and most admirable .

Although no federa l flag be displayed a t ha l f mast, or

Un ion guns deliver t he funera l sa lute customary upon the

demise of an ex - Secretary of W ar, w e may rega rd wi th com



In mind, manners and heart, he w as a type of that oldrace of Southern gentlemen whom these bustling times are

fast crow ding out of our civili z a tion .

” With him fi delity,chiva lry, honor and pa triotism were rea lities, not w ordsentities, not abstractions. To the South and the cause w h ich itrepresented , he rema ined fa ithful , even unto death.

Wi th the surrender of the armies of Genera ls Lee andJohnston, and upon t he disintegration of t he Confederategovernment a t Washington , Georgia , the end came. Whilea ttempting to reach the trans-Mississipp i Department, and

cherishing the hope that w ith the assistance of Genera l E .

Kirby Smith and J . B . Magruder and the forces under thei rcommand he w ould there be able to prolong t he struggle,President Davis w as captured by a detachment of Federa lcava l ry. Subjected to petty pillage and to annoyances inconsistent w ith the usages of civili z ed w arfare, he w as conveyedunder gua rd to Fortress Monroe, where cha rged with beingan accomplice in the assassina tion of President L incoln, and

accused of treason ,sepa ra ted from family and companions,

heavy fetters riveted upon him, he w as immured in a stonecasema te .

“Bitter tears have been shed by t he gentle,and stern

reproaches have been uttered by the “magnan imous on ac

count of the needless torture” to w hich he w as then subjected .

F or t w o long yea rs did th is illustrious prisoner endure thisunmerited d isgraceh th is unw arranted and oppressive confi ne

ment . Could you, my friends, a t this moment, with uncoveredheads approach the coffi n w hich encloses the morta l rema insof our dead President, and reverently li ft the shroud whichen folds his precious body, you w ould even now discover onthose pa le and shrunken limbs, t he abrasions caused by Federa l gyves. Behold

,my countrymen , what he suffered as the

representa t ive of the South ! Behold t he ma rtyrdom he thenendured for the a lleged sins of his people. H e w as indeed “

a

na tion’s prisoner .

”

Bravely d id he bea r himsel f during this season of privat ion , of loneliness, of insult, and of a ttempted degradat ion ,

prot racted until sat iated by thei r ow n cruelty and baffled inthei r rage

,the prison doors were Opened, and the Federa l

authorities were forced to acknow ledge t hat the charge of compl ici ty in the assassina tion of President L incoln w as a l ie ;


and tha t Jefferson Davis—President of the Confederate States—w as not a tra itor.I f anything were needed to consecrate his memory in the

a ffection and gratitude of the Southern people, it is surelysupplied in this vica rious suffering, and in the nobleness ofsp irit w ith which it w as endured .

Time and aga in since his liberat ion have the Sha fts offa lsehood, of ha tred, of detraction , and of jea lousy, beendirect ed aga inst him, but successfully part ied , they have re

turned to wound the hands which launched them.

In his quiet home a t Beauvoir, ennobled by the presenceof the live oak—that monarch of the Southern forest—beaut ifi ed by the queenly magnolia , redolent of the perfumes of asemi - tropica l region, fanned by t he soft breez es from the Gul f,and cheered by exhibitions of respect, a ffection,

and veneration most sincere

,President Davis passed t he even ing of h is

event ful li fe . Since the hush of tha t great storm w hich con

vulsed this land, he has borne himsel f with a d ignity and a

composure, with a fi delity to Con federate traditions, w ith a

just observance of the propriet ies of the situation,and w ith an

ex a lted manhood w orthy of a l l admira tion .

Conspicuous for his ga llantry and ability as a m i l i t aryleader—prominent as

.

a Federa l Secretary of W a r—a s a

sena tor and statesman,renowned in the politica l anna ls of

these Un ited Sta tes—illustrious for a l l time as the Presidentof a na tion which

, a lthough ma inta in ing i t s ex istence for on lya brie f space, bequea thed glorious names, notable events, andproud memories which will survive t he flood of yea rs—mostactive, intell igent, and successful in vindicating t he a ims, t heimpulses, the rights and the conduct of the Southern peopleduring their phenomena l struggle for independence—h is rep

ut a t ion abides unclouded by de fea t, un impa ired by the mutat ions of fortune and the shadow s of d isappointment.

EDWARD SOUTHEY JOYNES

[1 834 1

W . S. CURRELL

THE most w idely know n of a l l the professors of modern l an

guages in the South is Professor Joynes, now Professor Emeritus in the Un iversity of South Carol ina , res id ing in Columbia ,on the campus of tha t institut ion .

Edw ard Southey Joynes w as born in Accomac County, on the

ea stern shore of V irgin ia , March 2, 1 834. He is a son of Thomas R .

and Anne Bell (Sa tchel l ) Joynes, and a grandson of Ma j orLevin Joynes of the Cont inenta l Army, w ho w as descended fromthe earl i est Engl i sh settlers of Ea stern Virgin ia . H is early educat iona l advan tages w ere ex ceptiona l . Besides the tra in ing acqu ireda t the loca l “

old field” school , of w hich he w ri tes so charm ingly inthe South Carol ina Educa t iona l Journa l , he enjoyed the rare privilege of a ttend ing the famous Concord Academy, near Fredericksburg, V irgin ia. A favori te w i th the principa l, Mr. Frederi ck Coleman, a prince of teachers, he w a s fired w i th a grea t enthusiasm for

the Study of languages, especia lly Latin and Greek. Before a t

tend ing the Concord School oi Mr. Coleman he had Spent one yeara t D elaw are College (1 848 This college honored him later(1 875 ) w i th t he degree LL .D .

,as did Wi ll iam and Mary College

a lso in 1 878. I n 1 850 he entered the Un iversi ty of Virgin ia , w herehe took B .A. in 1 852, and M.A. in 1 853, and served as a ssistantprofessor of ancient languages under Dr. Gessner Harri son ,

1 853He stud ied a t the Universi ty of Berl in,

1 856 w here he had the

privil ege of hearing lectures from such noted scholars as Boeckh ,Haupt , and Bopp. In 1 858 he w as elected professor of Greek and

German in Wi ll iam and Mary College, V irgin ia . At W i ll iamsburghe married one of Virgin ia

’s gi fted daughters, M iss E l i z a Wa l ler

Vest , w hose gracious manners and charm ing hospita l i ty have en

deared her to many genera tions of students. Their four ch i ldrenare Lieutenant Wa lker W. Joyn es, of the Un i ted Sta tes RevenueCut ter Service, Mrs. A. G. Fi fe, of Na shvi lle, Tennessee, Mrs. Rob

est Macfarlan, of Darlington , South Carol ina , and Mrs. James W.

Ragsdale, of Florence, South Carol ina .

When the w ar began Wi ll iam and Mary College w as closed, andProfessor Joynes became chief clerk in the Confederate W ar Depart


ment, serving under Secretaries Wa lker, Randolph, Ben jamin , and

Seddon. I n 1 864 he w as instructor in modern languages a t HollinsInstitute, V irgin ia . Here he first acqu ired his fondness for modernlanguages, especia lly Engl ish. In 1 866 he became professor ofmodern languages in Wa sh ington College (now Washington and

L ee Un ivers ity ) , w here he enj oyed the privi lege of be ing associa tedw i th Genera l Robert E. Lee, w ho had a ccepted the presidency ofWa sh ington College, August 4, 1 865. Th i s a ssoc iation Mr. Joyneshas a lw ays regarded as one of the most precious and inspiring influences of his l i fe. Though elected professor of modern languages,Professor Joyn es insi sted tha t Engl i sh be included in h is cha ir. He

w as thus one of the pioneers in the teach ing of Engl ish as a di st inctbranch of collegiate study, and ha s a lw ays been an enthusiasti c andenl ightened advocate of the cla ims of the mother tongue in a l l

schemes of primary, secondary, and collegiate educa tion.

Professor Joynes became a member of the first fa cul ty of Vderb i l t Un iversi ty, w hich he helped to organ iz e, and from 1 875 to1 878 filled the cha ir of modern languages and Engl ish in thi s in st itut ion . He occupied the same cha ir in t he Un iversity of Tennesseea t Knox v i lle from 1 878 to 1 882, and in South Carol ina College, Columbia , from 1 882 to 1 888. In the la tter year th is cha ir w as dividedand since tha t time he has been professor of modern languages, i acluding French , German , and Span i sh . After fi fty - five years of notew orthy serv ices as an educa tor he received, in June, 1 908, a ret iri nga l low ance from the Carnegie Foundat ion ,

“ in considera tion of nuusua l and d i stinguished serv ice a s -

a professor of modern languages .”“Probably few ,

i f any Ameri can professors,” says a w ri ter in t he

New York Na t ion, “have persona lly taught so many students in fore ign tongues, and certa inly no American professor l iving has so

w idely influenced the study of modern languages in America .

D esp ite t he fact tha t Dr. Joynes has a lw ays had a la rge department and many subj ects to teach ,

he has found time to edi t books,

make addresses, w ri te educa tiona l art icles for various j ourna ls, and

take an act ive part in the va rious pha ses of collegi ate l i fe. Further,he has z ea lously promoted the publ ic school w ork in Virgin ia , Tennessee , and South Ca rol ina , and has ever been ready w ith tongue orw i th pen to advance the cause of genera l educa tion. He is one oft he founders and trustees of the W inthrop Norma l and Industria lCollege for Women , a t Rockh i ll, South Carol ina ; and i t is largelydue to his efforts that the Sta te College a t Columbia w as changed bythe Legi slature into the Un iversity of South Carol ina . A l ikeserv ice w as rendered by h im in Tennessee in securing fromthe Legi slature the name “Un iversi ty of Tennessee,” for the Sta teInsti tution a t Knoxvi lle.

EDWARD SOUTHEY JOYNES 2861

In revi ew ing Dr. Joynes’s career, w ha t first impresses us is

h is unusua l versa ti l ity. He is a ready and graceful speaker a t

a banquet or an unve i l ing, he can interest an aud ience of college students a t a commencement, or instruct an a ssembly of educa tors bythe lucid d iscussion of some theme of p edagogic interest ; but he isn ever happier or brighter than a t home in his study, w i th h is books,h is p ipe , and hi s fri ends. H is del ightful accounts of his early schooldays, a t “

old field” schools and a t Concord Academy, w het our appc

f i tes for further autobiographic Sketches, and i t i s to be hoped tha tin the even ing of h is days he w i ll give us more remin i scences ofh is rich and va ried l i fe.But Speaking, w rit ing, and even the mak ing of tex t - books w ere

rea lly avocat ions w i th Professor Joynes. H is most memorablea ch ievement, and t he one of w h ich he is justly proud, is h is fifty yearsand more of successful tea ching. As a teacher he w as inspiring and

a lw ays a ttra ct ive, fa scina t ing h is pup i ls by his l i terary acumen , his

ready w i t , his w onderful memory, and more than a l l , by h is gen ia lpersona l i ty .

BIBL IOGRAPHY

Joynes- Otto German Course. H enry Holt and Company, 1 869-

’

7o.

Joynes- Otto French Course. Henry Holt and Company, 1 870.

Vol. I , Le Cid ; Atha l ie ; Le M i santhrope. Holt, 1 868. Vol. I I ,Cinna ; Esther ; L’

Avara , 1 882.

Wh i tney's German Tex ts ; Sch i ller’s Maria Stuart. Holt, 1 880.Min imum French Grammar and Reader. Holt, 1 892.

Sch i l ler’s Maria Stuart. Enlarged edi tion. Holt, 1 894.George Sand’s La Mare au D iable. Holt, 1 896.

Erckmann - Cha tt ian : Contes Fanta stiques. 1 898.

Joynes- Meissner German Grammar. D . C. Hea th and Company,Boston , 1 887. The Same, abridged : Shorter German Grammar. D .

C. Heath and Company, Boston ,1 890.

German Reader Ex ercises. D . C. Heath and Company, Boston,1 890. The Same, abridged. D . C. Hea th and Company, Boston , 1 906.

Joynes and Wesselhoeft, German Lesson Grammar and the fol

low ing tex ts (notes and vocabulari es)French Fa iry Ta les. D . C. Hea th and Company, Boston, 1 907 .

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Z schocke, Der Z erbrochne Krug. D . C. Hea th and Company ,

Boston, 1 907.

Z schocke, Das Wirtshaus z u Cransac. D . C. Hea th and Com

pany, Boston , 1 907.

Heyse, D as Mi dchen von Treppi . D . C. Hea th and Company,Boston , 1 907.

H eyse, Ni els mi t der Offenen Hand. D . C. Hea th and Company,Boston , 1 907.

Jen sen ,D ie Braune Erika. D . C. Hea th and Company, Boston ,

1 907.

Sch i ller, D er Ge ist ersher. D . C. Hea th and Company, Boston,1 907.

Notes of L ectures on Engl ish Language. R. L. Bryan and Com

pany, Columb ia , South Carol ina.

Numerous Addresses, etc.

LEE, THE COLLEGE PRESIDENT

An Address delivered a t Washingt on and Lee Un iversi ty January 1 9, 1 907.

I AM to speak of Genera l Lee as college president, not asmilita ry commander. I n th is humbler capa city it w as my privi lege to serve him and to know him intima tely. To- day , a l l

over the South , in many colleges as elsew here , this Centennia lis fi t ly celebra ted ; for Genera l Lee, as college president , hasennobled every college in the land , and the memory of h is

grea t ex ample w ill be cherished so long as recurring centennia lssha ll come .

I n Wha t I sha ll say , I sha ll speak without ornament orora tory, but simply, and of intima te persona l know ledge . Isha ll make large use of materia l written by mysel f soon a fterGenera l Lee’s dea th , w hen recollection w as fresher than now .

Genera l L ee accepted the presidency of Washington College, in the first place , from a profound and deliberate sense

of duty. The same h igh principle of action tha t had cha racteri z ed h is conduct in the gravest crises of public affa irsma rked h is decision here . There w as absolutely nothing inthis position that could have tempted him. The college to

which he w as ca lled w as broken in fortune and in hope . The

w ar had pract ica lly closed i t s doors. I t s build ings had been



ty he w as an elder brother, beloved and revered, and full of a l ltender sympa thy. To the students he w as a fa ther in ca refulness, in encouragement, in reproof. The ir wel fare and

their conduct and cha ract er as gentlemen were his chief concern ; and this solicitude w as not limited to their collegiateyears, but followed them abroad into li fe . H e thought it tobe the office of a college not merely to educate t he inte l lect , butto make Chris t ian men . The mora l and religious character ofthe students w as more precious in h is eyes even than the irintellectua l progress, and w as made t he specia l object of h isconstant persona l solicitude.

Such were t he principles which actuated Genera l Lee as

president of Washingt on College, and their effects showedthemselves in a l l the deta ils of h is admin istra tion . In the

discipline of the college h is mora l influence w as supreme. Adisciplina rian in t he ordinary sense of the term, as it is oftenmost unw orthily applied , he w as not . H e w as no seeker- outof sma ll offences, no stickler for forma l regulations. Youthful ind iscretion found in him t he most len ient of judges ; butfa lsehood or meanness had no toleration with h im. He lookedrather to the principles of good conduct than to mere outwa rdacts. Hence in the use of college pun ishments he w as caut ious,forbea ring, and len ient ; but he w as not the less firm in his

demands and prompt, w hen need w as, in h is measures. His

reproof w as stern , yet kind , and often melting in i t s tenderness ; and his appea ls, a lw ays addressed to the noblest motives,were irresistible. The hardiest offenders w ere a like awed byhis presence, and moved often to tea rs by h is w ords ; and therew as no student w ho d id not dread a reproof from Genera l Leemore than every other punishment .

The influence of th is policy, a ided especia lly by the mightyinfluence of h is persona l character, w as a l l - pow erful. The

elevation of tone and the improvement in conduct were stea dyand rapid . I doubt , indeed , w hether a t any other college inthe world so many young men could have been found as freefrom misconduct, or marked by as high a tone of feeling and

Opinion , as w ere the students of Wash ingt on College duringthese latter years of Genera l Lee’s li fe.

Yet not t he less w as he rigidly ex acting of duty and scru

pulously attentive to deta i ls. By a system of reports, week ly


and monthly—a lmost milita ry in their exactness—which herequired of each professor, he made himsel f acqua inted withthe standing and progress of every student in every one of h isclasses. These reports he stud ied ca refully and w as quick todetect shortcomings. H e took ca re, a lso, to make himsel f acqua in ted with each student persona lly. . Nor w as it a mora linfluence a lone that he ex erted in the college . H e w as equa llyca reful of i t s intellectua l interests. Though not persona llyengaged in teaching he wa tched t he progress of every class,a ttended a l l the ex aminations and frequently t he recitations.

The whole college, in a w ord, felt h is influence as an ever - presen t motive, and h is cha racter w as quietly yet irresistibly impressed upon i t , not only in the genera l working of a l l i ts

depa rtments, but in a l l the deta ils of each .

Genera l Lee w as a lso most laborious in the duties of hisoflice as college president . H e gave himsel f w holly to his work.

H is occupa tion w as constant, a lmost incessant. He w ent to hisoffi ce da ily a t e ight o’clock, and rarely returned home untilone or two. During this time he w as a lmost incessantly en

gaged in college matters, giving his persona l attention to themi nutest deta ils. H is offi ce w as a lw ays open to students orprofessors, a l l whose interests received h is ready consideration. His correspondence meanw hile w as very heavy

, yet no

letter tha t ca lled for an answer w as ever neglected. It w assta ted by the ed itor of a V irginia paper tha t to a circular letterof genera l educationa l interest, addressed by him to a largenumber of college presidents, Genera l Lee w as the only one

tha t replied . Yet he w as the greatest and perhaps t he busiestof them a l l . In addition to the forma l reports, which he a l

w ays revised and signed himsel f, his correspondence w ith thepa rents and gua rdians of students w as intima te and explicit ,on every occas ion tha t required such correspondence . Manyof these letters are models of beauti ful composition and noblesentiment .These varied duties grew upon h im yea r a fter yea r with

the expanding interests of the college ; and yea r a fter yea r heseemed to become more devoted to them . Aga in and aga in d idthe trustees and faculty seek to lessen his labors ; but his ca refulness of duty and natura l love of work seemed to render itimpossible. Equa lly, he declined donations offered expressly

2866 SOUTHERN L ITER ATURE

to ra ise his sa l a ry . For the college , he sa id , needed moneymore than he d id . I t ca n be t ru ly sa id tha t he w as whollyabsorbed in his w ork

,h is noble concept ion of w hi ch made it

grea t , and w ort hy even of him.

But Genera l Lee w as not only earnest and laborious, hew as a lso able . as col lege presiden t . He w as perfect ly masterof t he situa tion . To t h is l et t he result s of his admin istra tionbea r test imony. He found the coll ege pract ical ly bankrupt,d isorgan i z ed ,

desert ed ; he left i t st rong. progressive, and

crow ded w i t h students. I t w a s not merelv numbers tha t hebrought t o it, for these h is grea t fame a lone w ould have a t

tract ed . H e gave i t organ i z a t ion . un ity, energy , and pra ctica lsuccess. H e had from the beginn ing a d istinct policy w hichhe had fully conce ived and to w h ich he steadily adhered . H is

object w as noth ing less than to establish and perfect an inst itut ion w h ich should meet the h ighest needs of educa tion inevery depa rtment . Under h is advice new cha irs w ere crea ted ,

and professors ca l led to fill them ; so that be fore the end of

t he first yea r the faculty w as doubled in numbers. La ter, addit iona l cha irs w ere crea t ed , and fina lly a complete system of de

partment s w as establ ished and brought into full opera t ion .

The courses of study w ere so adapted and mutua lly arrangedas to avoid a l ike t he errors of the purely elective system on the

one hand and of the close curric ulum on the other, and to

secure, by a happy compromise . the best advantages of both .

Under th is organ i z a tion . a nd especia lly under the insp iration of Genera l Lee’

s centra l influence . the ,utmost ha rmony

and the utmost energy pervaded a l l the departments of t he

col lege . The standa rds of scholarsh ip w ere rapi dly advanced ;and soon the gradua t es of College w ere t he ac

know ledged equa ls of those from the best inst itutions elsew here, and w ere eagerly sough t a ft er for the h ighest positionsas teachers in t he best schools. These results w hich even inthe few years of h is adm in i st ration had become universa llyacknow ledged throughout the South ,

w ere due directly and

immed iately, more than to a l l other causes, to the persona labi li ty and influence of Genera l L ee , as president of the college.

Genera l Lee’s plans for t he development of \Vashingt onCollege w ere not simply progressive ; they were distinct anddefi n ite . He aimed to make the college represent a t once the


w ants and the gen ius of the country. He fully realiz ed theneeds of t he present age, and he desired to adapt the educa tionof the people to the ir cond ition and their destiny. He w as the

a rdent advocate of complete classica l and litera ry culture. Yet

he recogn i z ed the fact tha t materia l w ell - being is a cond itionof a l l high civili z ation , and therefore he sought to provide themeans for t he development of science and for i t s practica lapplica tions. He believed fully in - t he universi ty idea and not

in sepa ra te techn ica l schools ; but tha t, as herea fter they mustlive together, so young men of different pursuits should beeduca ted together. H e sought , there fore , to establish this mutua l connection, and to consolida te a l l the depa rtments of litcrary, scientifi c, and professiona l educa tion under a commonorgan i z ation . Hence, a t an early day , he ca lled into existencethe depa rtments of applied mathematics and engineering, ofmodern languages, and of law ,

as pa rt of the collegi a te organi z a t ion ; and , later, he submitted to the trustees a plan for thecomplete development of t he scienti fi c and professiona l depa rtments of the college, wh ich w ill ever rema in as an exampleof h is enla rged wisdom, and w hich anticipa ted , by many years,t he actua l a tta inments of any school in th is country .

Outside of these more offi cia l sta tements there is much tha tI might say of Genera l Lee in his more persona l and privaterelations. Yet such deta il might be w earisome , and , besides,much of wha t I w ould say might be unsuitable for public utt erance. But no one who ever enjoyed the privilege of intercourse with Genera l Lee can forget tha t splend id and captivating persona lity. H e w as the handsomest man I have everseen . Besides the utmost perfection of form and fea turehe had a mingled sw eetness and d ign ity of expression—an

unconscious grace and majesty of appea rance—“

the likeof which ,

”says Genera l Lord Wolseley ,

“ I have never seenin other men .

”H is familiar conversation w as kind and gra

cions, and often lightened by t he play of gen ia l humor. H e

en joyed a joke and could tell one wi th a keen z est—butnever w as there any approach to unseemly levity, and no man

could have dared to take liberties with Genera l Lee .

In wha t is ca lled “

society” Genera l Lee mingled but little- he had neither time nor inclination . But he w as never for

get ful of the“

sma ll, sweet courtesies of li fe .

” A stranger


visit ing Lexington ,a fa ther or mother visiting a son a t col

lege, w as sure Of a ca ll from Genera l Lee, and with scrupu

lous courtesy he repa id the socia l attentions tha t he received.

At his table he presided w ith his accustomed sw eet and gen t ledign ity, and sha red fully in socia l , often playful conversation. H e w as fond Of riding—a lmost every a fternoon, whenhe had t ime ; and Genera l Lee on Traveller, booted and gauntleted—in winter w ith h is milita ry cloak—w as the finest sighton which t he eye could rest .

I n business matters, priva te or offi cia l , Genera l Lee w as

accura te and method ica l, and h is annua l reports were modelsOf clea r and comprehensive sta tement. I n correspondencehe w as ca re ful and scrupulously punctua l . In private con

versa tion he w as quiet and gen ia l . H e never spoke—a t leastnot in my hea ring—Of the w ar Or of politics, except withthe utmost reserve . Here h is recollections were, doubtless,too pa in ful . I never hea rd from his l ips a word either ofbitterness or Of apology , nor any criticism Of others. It isknow n

,I believe, tha t he had intended to write the history

of h is a rmy, but tha t he desisted, because he thought this couldnot be done “

w ithout causing too much pa in .

” Thus, forthe sake of others, he forbore wha t w ould have been his

ow n supreme vind ication . SO tender, so sel f - denying, w as

this great heart .I n t he w eekly meetings of t he faculty General Lee ex

ert ed ra ther an influence w hich seemed unconscious both tohimsel f and to us, than any visible authority . Faculty meetings are apt to be w ordy, and sometimes a little ex cited ; butGenera l Lee never show ed impatience, and h is quiet presenceca lmed every rising storm . H e ex erted h imsel f to minimiz eh is ow n authority, and to leave to each professor the fullsense of independence and responsibi lity. He never made a

speech ; ra rely, indeed ,spoke from his cha ir or attempted by

any expression Of Op in ion to infl uence a pending vote . Itneed not be added ,

how ever, that w hen Genera l Lee’s views

were know n ,they w ere a lw ays decisive, and no rea lly im

portant measure w as ever introduced without consultationwith him. Besides i t s ex cept iona lly great ability, h is w as the

best organ i z ed and most effi cient faculty I have ever servedwith. I t s important work w as done by standing committees,


and Genera l Lee w as a lw ays consulted in every case Of importance or diffi culty.

Of Genera l Lee’s religious character I do not feel mysel fworthy to Speak. That he w as deeply, sincerely religious,with a perfect trusting fa ith in God is man i fest from a l l the

course of h is li fe , as from his w ritings. H is last a fternoonw as spent in a vestry meeting, and his last conscious act w as,

on that same even ing, to attempt to ask a blessing upon the

even ing mea l—when God ca lled him,and he sank, uncon

scious, in h is cha ir.Such, most imperfectly sketched, w as Genera l L ee , as

college president . And surely this pa rt of his li fe deservesto be remembered and commemora ted by those w ho hold h ismemory dea r. I n it he exhibited a l l those great qua lities ofcha racter which had made h is name a lready so illustriousThis li fe a t Washington College, so devoted, so earnest, so

l aborious, so full of far- reaching plans and of wise and suc

cessful effort, w as begun under t he w eight Of a disappointment which might have broken any ord ina ry strength , and

w as ma inta ined, in the midst of priva te and public misfortune, with a serene patience and a mingled firmness and

sw eetness of temper, which give additiona l brilliancy evento t he glory of his former fame .

It is a privilege henceforth for the teachers of our countrytha t the ir profession ,

in i t s humble yet a rduous labors, i t sgrea t and i t s petty cares, has been illustra ted by the devot ionOf such a man . It is an honor for a l l our colleges tha t oneOf them is henceforth identified with t he memory Of h is nameand of his work . It is a boon for us a l l ; an honor to t hecountry, which in i t s whole length and breadth will soon beproud to cla im h is fame ; an honor to human nature itsel f,tha t this great cha racter, so Often and so severely tried , hasthus proved itsel f consistent, serene and grand , a like in peaceand in w ar, in the humblest as well as the highest offi ces.


SCHOOL TRAINING IN THE EARLY DAYS

2mm from The‘

Ol d Fie ld ’ School, ” in The Educa t iona l , m y . 1 902.

THESE were some of t he resul ts Of my old field schooltra ining a t home . I ca n say w it hout boasting—and I th ink itdue to say—that w hen I entered col lege a t fourt een I w as bett er prepa red in t he essentia ls Of a sound and l ibera l schola rsh ip ,

than the average Sophomore Of today in our Southern col

leges.

Now , what produced these results ? Wh a t w ere the cond itions Of early tra in ing w hich ca rried me , a t fourt een , into andthrough the Sophomore class in one of the most respectable Of

the sma ller colleges Of tha t day (and of th is) P Or, to e l imi na t e entirely the persona l equa tion ,

to give the question a la rgerand w ort hier scOpe : \Vha t w ere the qua li t ies of t he tea ch ing,under the irregula r organ i z at ion and imperfect methods Of tha tday ,

w hich sent boys little Older than my se l f, thoroughly prepa red ,

from simila r schools in th is State into the Sophomoreclass Of t he South Ca rol ina College ? For such , up to the w ar,

w as habitua l ly the fa ct .Of course, an ana lysis, undertaken in Old age, Of the con

d i t ions of boyhood and youth must be more or less pa rt ia land imperfect . But there are some th ings w h ich I think I seeclea rly thro’ this long lapse of t ime . I w oul d answ er.

First : Concentra tion—On ly a few subjects w ere a t t empt ed , but these w ere stud ied continuously and thoroughly . \Ve

had no ex tras. There w as none Of tha t d issipa tion of att ent ion , or of tha t superfi cia l sma ttering of sma ll know ledge ,w h ich are too Oft en t he result Of the overcrow ded school curriculum Of t he present day . And w ith continuous and thorough study came t he d iscipline of conscious progress, and fi na lly the strengt h Of conscious mastery .

Second : Compulsion—There w a s no severity Of disciplineor Of pun ishment—st ill less any rigor Of rule or regulation .

But w e felt , simply, tha t our w ork had to be done and tha t w ehad to do it . This w as the unw ritten but accepted law . For

fa i lure or de fect, pena lty w as expected and w as felt to be deserved . The

“law Of liberty

,to w ork or not as w e pl eased

tha t other l aw ,tha t pleasure, not pa in,

must a lone mark the



sa id w e took for gospel , and w e learned it w ith reverent fa i th .

Often enough w e d id not understand it ; but that w as not

deemed necessa ry. SO. more or less mechanica lly, w e w orkedprocesses, and appl ied rules, and lea rned words and defi n itionswhich w e d id not understand . Th is, Of course , w as far fromidea l teaching and must have produced a somew hat woodenqua lity Of mind ; but yet it w as not w holl y w ithout va lue. W e

lea rned to lea rn , b y force Of w ill and of work—often blindlyindeed, but still w e lea rned. And therewith , though Often withbut litt le substance, w e unconsciously lea rned forms of thought,and ga ined capa cit ies for know ledge ,

which w ere la ter to befi lled , na tura l ly and easi ly

,w i t h substantia l content. SO the

bee builds his comb- cell,in symmetrica l form, for the honey

tha t is to come ; and so. later, our grow ing intell igence fellna tura lly into the forms and phra ses w e had so laboriously andoften blindly acquired . Often have I thus found the rules anddefin itions tha t I had learned a t school become, later, luminouswith truth.

THE EDUCAT IONAL AW AKENING

Ext ra ct from an address on The Un ivers i ty and t he S t a t e (Universi ty ofTen nesse e , 1 898

As I consider th is grea t State ; as I remember the journeysI have made up and dow n her spacious borders, to speak foreduca tion ; as I study upon the map her beauti ful configuration,

and think of her vast and undeveloped resources, I am t e

minded Of a fa iry ta le w e have a l l read in chi ldhood . A lovely

princess w as sunk , by the influence Of a ma lign fa iry, into a

deep sleep . H er Ofli cers and servants a l l fell into a like slumber. Around her pa lace grew up a hedge Of bushes and thornstha t shut i t from the w orld ; and it w as fa ted that she shouldso sleep un t il , a ft er a hundred years, a beaut i ful chosen princeshould come , and ca ll her and her pa lace ba ck to li fe . Yet

even in her sleep , the story says. she w as beauti ful ; her heavingbreast gave signs Of li fe , t he bloom of youth mantled her

cheeks, and she grew into ever more lovely w omanhood ; butstill she slept on , t ill the time had come . SO too, it seems tome, lies this virgin St ate—th is sleeping beauty of Empire !Her feet bathed in the w aters Of t he mighty Mississippi—her


lovely body clasped in the sinuous a rms Of the Cumberland andthe Tennessee—her head pi llow ed w here t he morn ing sun

light kisses the summits Oi the Unaka Mounta ins, and flashesthence over this glorious va lley, she sleeps . Yet beauti ful, too,in her sleep—her bosom heaving w ith the brea th Of unconsciousand undeveloped pow er, her limbs instinct w ith a l l the potentforces Of li fe—she lies dormant in the gorgeous pa lace Of her

rich inheritance , w hile around her rankle the hedges tha t hideher glories from the w orld . She sleeps : the hundred yea rs arepast, and the beauti ful prince that sha ll aw ake her is not yet

come. But he is coming. H is hera ld t rumpet has a lreadysounded to the w orld in your capita l ci ty . H is approachingfootsteps are tipping your mounta in - tops w ith light, deepen ingyour va lleys with richer verdure, touching your ripplingstreams to sweeter music . H is voice is hea rd in t he w hirringw heels Of industry, in the scream of the steam engine, in the

church bell—in every note tha t sounds the ma rch of progressor of hOpe for mankind . H is name is ENL IGHTENMENT . H is

w atchword is EDUCATION—h is tabernacle is t he SCHOOLh is pa lace, the UN IVERSITY . He is coming ; and when he

comes, in full and gracious presence, he w ill set his throne onthis very hill where w e now a re . Let h im come, and comequickly. Let him rouse this Sleeping Princess, and taking thecrow n tha t has so long aw a ited her, let him crow n Tennesseet he Queen that she should be , and sha ll be, i f she w i ll butawake . May God bless Tennessee ; and through the aw akenedhea rt and hand of Tennessee, may God bless this University.

HELEN ADAMS KELLER

[1 880

D . S. BURLESON

ELEN ADAMS KELLER w as born June 27, 1 880, in Tuscum

b ia , Alabama . On her fa ther’s side she is the grea t - granddaugh ter of Al ex ander Moore, an a ide of La Fayette’s, and a greatgreat- granddaughter of Alex ander Spotsw ood , an early colon ia lgovernor of Virgin ia ; she i s a lso a fourth cousin of Genera l RobertE . Lee. On her mother’s side she is rela ted to t he celebra ted Adamsand Everett fam i l ies of Ma ssachusetts. Her ma terna l grandfa ther,Charles Adams, w as a brigadi er- genera l in the Con federate Army,w hi le her fa th er, Arthur H . Keller, w as a capta in. The la tter formany years w a s edi tor of the Northern Al abamian, a w eekly new spaper publ i shed in Tuscumbia . Capta in Keller w as a man of l ibera lculture and unbounded hosp i ta l i ty kindly, generous, and chiva lrousa true representative of the old school of Southern gentlemen .

At the age of n ineteen months, M i ss Keller, through the effect s

of acute congestion of the stomach and bra in , w as left tota lly and

permanently dea f and bl ind. From th i s time ti ll a lmost seven yearso f age she l ived a long n igh t of a lmost tota l darkness and si lence.She refers to this period as a dream throughout and says that her on lyconsciousness of i t is merely tactua l . “As near as I can tel l,” saysshe,

“

asleep or aw ake, I felt on ly w i th my body. I can recollect noprocess w h ich I should now dign i fy w i th the term thought .”

As she grew older, how ever, and the necessi ty for expressionbecame more and more urgen t, she w as often rebell ious and gavew ay to frequent outbursts of pa ssion .

‘

L igh t l give me l ight ! saysshe, w as the w ordless cry of my soul, and the l ight of love shone onme in that very hour.”

She here refers to the coming of her teacher, Mi ss Anne Mansfield Sul l ivan (now Mrs. John Albert Macy ) . Act ing on the adviceof D r. Alex ander Graham Bell , Capta in Kel ler had appl ied for a

tea cher to the Perk ins Insti tution for t he Bl ind, and in responsethree months later M i ss Sull ivan arrived in Tuscumbia , on March 3,1 887, to enter upon a w ork tha t has brought both tea cher and pupi linto interna tiona l prom inence . M iss Sul l ivan had not been w ith herpupi l more than a month , w hen perhaps the most sign ificant eventin the li fe of M iss Keller occurred. On the fifth of Apri l , Miss Sul l ivan w ri tes : “ She has learned tha t everyth ing has a name

2875

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

W e w ent out to the pump- house and I made Helen hold her mugunder the spout w h i le I pumped. As the cold w a ter gushed forth,fill ing t he mug, I Spelled

‘

w - a - t - e - r’in Helen’

s free hand. The w ordcom ing so close upon the sensation of cold w a ter rush ing over herhand seemed to startle her. She dropped her mug and stood as one

t ranSfi x ed. A new l ight came into her face.” Th i s l ight M iss Kel lerrefers to as marking t he aw aken ing of her soul . To quote her ow n

w ords : “

Suddenly I felt the m i sty consciousness of someth ing forgotten—a thri ll of return ing thought ; and somehow the mystery oflanguage w a s revea led to me. I knew tha t ‘

w - a—t—e - r’meant the w on

derful cool something tha t w a s flow ing over my hand. Tha t livingw ord aw akened my soul , gave i t l ight, hope, j oy, set i t free l

”

Thereupon M iss Keller‘s education w ent forw ard w ith a ston ishing

rapidi ty. On the seventeenth of June, about three and a ha lf monthsa fter the first w ord w a s Spelled into her hand , she w rote her firstletter. By t he eighteenth of September, she knew six hundred w ords.By October she w as tell ing stories in w hich the imagina tion playedan important part. I n November, she w rote Dr. Alexander Bell alet ter of one hundred and forty - five w ords, marking her sentencescorrectly, w i th capi ta ls and periods.In t he spring of 1 890 M i ss Keller learned to speak. M iss Sarah

Fuller, principa l of the Horace Mann School , gave her eleven lessonsin a l l . The method w as to have Miss Keller move her hand l ightlyover Mi ss Fuller’s face and feel the posi tion of her tongue and lipsw hen she made a sound . In an hour M i ss Keller had learned six

sounds. “I sha ll never forget the surpri se and del ight I felt,

”says

she,“w hen I uttered my first connected sentence—‘

I t is w arm.

’

In 1 892, a t t he age of tw elve, M i ss Keller w rote a sketch of herl i fe for The Youth

’s Compan ion . Her style in thi s w as ex cellent

for one of her youth , and promi sed much tha t has been fulfilled inher later w ritings.Before October, 1 893, she had read the h i stories of Greece, Rome,

and t he Un i ted Sta tes, knew a l i t t le French, and had begun t he studyof La tin . In 1 894 she entered t he Wright - Huma son School for theD ea f in New York City, ch iefly for t he purpose of voca l culture and

tra in ing in l ip reading, but a lso studied ari thmetic, physica l geography, French and German . Here she rema ined for tw o years. In

t he fa ll of 1 896 she entered t he Cambridge School for Young Ladi esto be prepared for Radcl i ffe, for, says she , A potent force w i th in me,stronger than t he persuas ion of my fri ends, stronger even than the

pleadings of my heart, had impel led me to t ry my strength by thestandards of those w ho see and hear.

”She continued in t he Cam

bridge School for a l ittle over one session ; w as then w i thdraw n and

placed under the instruction of Mr. Merton 5 . Kei th of Cambridge

HELEN ADAMS KELLER 2877

un ti l she took her ex am inat ions in June, 1 899, to enter Radcl i ffe.

These, desp i te many perplex ing diffi culties, she passed successfully,w i th cred i t in Advanced L a tin .

I n the fa l l of 1 900M i ss Keller entered Radcl i ffe. During her fouryears there she had many d i sadvantages to labor aga inst. She

w as practica lly a lone in the presence of her instructors, getting on lyso much of the ir lectures a s could be spelled into her hand, and

could take no notes, as her hand w a s occup ied . She had to w ri te herex erci ses on a typew ri ter so tha t her professors, w ho knew noth ingof Bra i lle, could read them. Most of her tex t - books had to beSpelled to her, s ince very few of those she needed w ere in ra i sedprint .I n 1 904 M i ss Keller took her degree a t Radcl i ffe. During th is

same year she w as honored w i th a Specia l day , know n as H elenKeller Day ,

”a t t he St . Lou is Ex posi t ion , on w h ich occa sion she w as

present and made an address. A pa rt of the follow ing w inter she

spent a t t he home of her mother in Florence, Alabama . Since tha ttime she has been l iv ing a t Wrentham

,Ma ssa chusetts, w ith her former

tea cher, Mrs. John A. Macy. Here,so she tells us in her article in

the L adi es’H ome Journa l , September, 1 905 , Wha t I am Doing,” she

leads a very busy l i fe ; attend ing to her l ittle domestic duties, answ ering letters, prepa ring addresses, w rit ing art icles, for M i ss Keller isan occa siona l contributor to a number of lead ing periodica ls, such as

The Cen tury , The L ad i es” H ome Journa l , The World

’s Work , Cur

ren t L i t era ture, Chari t i es, and others. She has a lso found time toget out another volume enti tled ‘

The World I L ive I n,

’w hich ap

peared in 1 908.

Such are some of the facts in the l i fe of M i ss Keller. But, tounderstand better her sta tion a s a w ri ter, w e must inqu ire into herpersona l ity and inner l i fe.First of a l l , w e must not forget how M i ss Keller sees and

hears the w orld about us. As a k ind of compensation for the lossof her sight and hea ring, na ture has very generously endow ed herrema in ing senses. Y et t he fact rema ins tha t M i ss Keller never can

see and hear t he w orld as do those w ho have the ful l complement o fsen ses . I n her ow n w ords, “

The ca lam i ty of t he bl ind is immen se,irreparable. I t i s on ly by t he eye of t he soul tha t she can look uponthe ma j esti c form of noble mounta ins, can scan the glory of heavenby n ight, behold the radiance of ea rly morn ing

, and l isten to the

melody of i t s birds’ song and laughing streams. But w i th the mostbeauti ful resigna tion She bea rs this loss. Throughout her li fe

,ever

since she w as freed from the dark n ight of complete and heart - subduing si lence, even in the m idst of perplex ity and diffi cul ty, she has


man i fest ed a steadfast cheerfulness, irrepressib le buoyancy , and in

vincible determ ina ti on to make the most of li fe.

So Miss Keller, in spi te of her 1083, takes l i fe very much as do

other people, and thorough ly enj oys living. She loves the outdoorsand i t s sports, often tak ing tramps through the w oods rega rdl ess ofscratches and bru ises. Her favori te amusement is sa i l ing, and nex tto this she enj oys a w a lk. She has her tree, dog, and pony fri ends.She loves ch i ldren and enjoys romping and frol icking w i th them.

When she is kept indoors, she likes to kn i t, crochet , or play checkersor chess. She attends the thea ter and enj oys i t , feel ing, as the playis described to her, as i f she

“w ere l iving in the midst of stirring

events.”

But of her books she says : In a w ord, l i tera ture is my Utopia ,

From her earl iest years she had th i s passion for read ing. When she

w as only e ight, her teacher found her in a corner of t he library pori ngover The Scarlet Letter.

’On ly three month s after her educa tion

began ,Miss Su l l ivan , on going to bed , so she tells us, found her

asleep w i th a book cla sped in her arms.She enj oys mus ic a lso ; but , as her recogn i tion of i t is merely

t a cti le, she fee ls i t most w hen she holds her hands upon the inst ru

men t or upon the singer’s throa t. She is especia lly sensi t ive to thevibra tion of the p ipe- organ , and says that “

i t fills to an ecsta sy theact of feeling.

”

We a re not surpri sed, then , that M i ss Keller i s happy. I f I

tri ed,” says she , I could not check the momentum of my first leapout of t he dark.

In her poem, A Chan t of Darkness, her soul thus overflow s

I am shaken w i th gladness ;My l imbs tremble w ith j oy ;My heart and t he earthTremble w i th happ iness ;The ecsta sy of l i feI s abroad in the w orld.

She in fuses l i fe and sunsh ine into a l l she w ri tes. I t is only w henher soul grow s indign ant a t needless sufferings, or a t the evi ls of

Oppression , tha t she man i fests impatience. Then for a momen t shebecomes a l ittle stern , as in her art icle in t he L adi es

’H ome Journa l ,

Janua ry, 1 907, in w h ich she sorely arra ign s those w hose sins are

responsible for unnecessary bl indness. Th is , how ever, is the remonstrance of an optimi st ic soul , w h ich l ives in t he sunsh ine of love.

So Mi ss Keller’s is not a happ iness of sel f- suffi ciency and indi f

ference. Even the most superfic ia l of her readers w i ll soon perceive



merry song w e hear ; her roses have the same del ica te outlines and

exqu isi te hues tha t appea l to us. From the very first, she w as t augh tto approach nature d irectly and get close to i t s heart . Al l my ea rlylesson s, she w rites

,have in them t he brea th of t he w oods

Indeed, everything th at could hum or buz z , or s ing, or bloom, had a

pa rt in my educa t ion .

”

Her style abounds in mot ion , color, l i fe ; abounds in concrete ex

pression , tropes, sim i les, persona l terms apply ing to t he inan ima te .

So vigorous and dist inct i s the gra sp of her ideas tha t She pla ces youin a sun l i t a tmosphere, w ith no fogs or m i sts about the hori z on.

Hence, her style ea si ly holds you. One secret of th i s force l i esin her d iction . Th i s i s remarkably simple, pure, and euphon ious ;abound ing in monosyllables, yet never grow ing sti ff or harsh . Her

sentences, too, are l ively , forcible, and ful l of rhythm. These are

often short, frequently periodic, yet present such a happy blend ing ofa l l types tha t no one kind ever becomes stra ined or conspi cuous.

Along w ith th i s, she d isplays grea t variety in t he length of her paragraphs, w hich vari e ty, w hi le i t en l ivens her style, never betrays con

scious art or pa lpable dev ice.M i ss Keller's style is ea sy to follow : ea sy because she holds your

interest ; ea sy because she has a v igorous and w e l l - defi ned gra sp of heridea s , and for t he ex pression of these has a w ea lth of pure, S imple,and happy w ords , w h ich she w eaves into a fabric of beaut i ful Engl i sh .

M i ss Keller’s themes are , w i th in themselves, of spec ia l interest.Most tha t She has w ri tten is la rgely persona l and subj ective. She

speaks to us upon subj ects in w h ich sh e is vi ta lly interested and con

cerned, and about w h ich she a lone can hold such effective d i scourse.Hence, in t he tr ue sen se, She is strikingly origina l , and stamps uponevery sen t ence her cha rm ing persona l ity.

The Story of My L i fe’ first appea red i n t he L ad ies

’H ome Jour

na l (Apri l September, and w as w ri tten w hi le she w as a t R ad

el ifle. I t a fterw ard appeared in a volume of 431 pages ; about a th irdof w h ich is taken up w ith her autob iography, a third w i t h her letters,and the rest w i t h a supplemen t a ry account , by Mr. John Albert Ma cy .

of her l i fe and educa tion . The story of her l i fe i s in her characteri sti ccha rming style ,

full of interest ing and hope ful ma tter. The lettersa re bot h in t erest ing and import ant, tracing, as noth ing else can , t he

development of her mind and t he evolut ion of her style. They a lsothrow much l igh t upon her character and a re grea tly help ful in enabl ing the reader to apprecia te her la ter w ritings.

Optim ism a lso appeared w h i le M i ss Keller w as a student a t Radcl i ffe . In thi s l ittle volume she preache s t he gospel o f love and hOpe .

The book is largely subj ect ive and bears the stamp of t he author’sconvictions. I t is w ritten in an ca c

y , l ive ly, and fa scinating style,


and ends w ith her creed of fa ith in God and man , and her bel ief inhelping the un fort una te.

Her la test book, The World I L ive I n ,

’ conta ins Mi ss Keller’scontributions to The Cen tury . These a rti cles are most va luable as

being ex pos i tions of the inner l i fe of t he author. They representM i ss Keller’s more ma ture style, and hold us not only because of thehappy ve in and fa scina t ing la nguage in w h ich they are told, but beca use through them, as through nothing else, w e lea rn of thi s “

w on

der- chi ldMov ing about in w orlds not rea l i z ed.

Among these contribut ion s is her poem ,

“A Chant of Darkness .I t transports us to a n ight of perpetua l darkness, but, a s w e enter t hedusky borderland, i t s ings to us a song of cheer, tha t in th i s n ighto f bl indness is riches pa st comput ing. I t then l i fts the ve i l , loved i spels the da rkn ess, and a l l sight is of the soul .” The earth trembles w i th happ iness and

The ecsta sy of l i feI S abroad in t he w orld.

Then ,qui et ly and beaut i fully as day l ies dow n and goes to

t he bosom of n ight, her soul chants these la st sw eet w ords

0 fa thomless, sooth ing Night !Thou a rt a ba lm to my restless sp iri t,I nestle gra tefully in thy bosom,

Da rk, grac ious Mot her ! L ike a

Dove I rest in t hy bosom.

Even a side from the ir intrins ic w ort h and ex cellence , M iss Keller’s w ri t ings appea l to us w i th a pecul iar interest. H er messagecomes to us from a rea lm da rk and si lent , yet made cheerful andbeaut i ful by the rad iance of her ow n persona l i ty . Betw een us andher is a w a ll through w h ich w e w ere helpless e ither to peer or speak ,yet her soul ha s broken through the confines of i t s capt ivi ty, and sendsout continua lly to the w orld i t s messages of cheer, encouragement,admon i tion , and love. I t si ts in i t s si lent abode and preaches happiness, brotherly- kindness, and hope . What a lesson !

CD, 5 . W .

(NOTE : The wri t er of t he foregoing a rt icles w ishes t o acknowledge his indebt ednessto Messrs. Doubleday, Page a nd Compa ny for t he ki nd permission to quot e from‘The S tory of My L i fe ’

; a lso to The Cen tury Company for permi ssion to quot e

from Miss Keller's con t ribut ions to The Cen tury ]

I I :

Wm Im a m :

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m y ," H

4 4"a : 5

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a x m l}.

,

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g : cont i nuous

a:c e " : eve: Ez sm z z t I have been

1 .ca rt : -3 t he sun . to t he Ot her

p lum‘e am ! t o c fix e r! st ars. I mul t iply a t housand t im the

"t un a ! a nd t ha t mv t ouch compas s , and t hus I

“am a 41 - 1 1 , u nru o i t he sky’

s immensity.

21 1m 1m: a long con stant ly over w a t er, w a t er, nothing but


w ater, and you give me the solitude, the vastness of oceanwhich fills the eye. I have been in a little sa il - boa t on the sea ,

when t he rising tide swept it tow a rd the Shore. May I not

understand the poet’s figure : “

The green of spring overflowst he ea rth like a tide ?” I have felt the flame of a candle blowand flutter in the breez e. May I not then , say :

“Myriads offi reflies flit hither and thither in the dew - w et grass like littlefluttering tapers ?

”

Combine t he endless space of a ir, t he sun’s warmth, the

preva lence of fi t ful odors, the clouds that are described to myunderstanding spirit , the frequent breaking through t he soil ofa brook or the expanse of t he w ind - ruffled lake, t he tactua lundula tion of the hills, which I reca ll when I am far awayfrom them, the towering trees upon trees as I wa lk by them,

the bearings tha t I try to keep w hile others tell me the dircetions of the various points of the scenery, and you will beginto feel surer of my menta l landscape . The utmost bound tow hich my thought will go with clearness is the hori z on of mymind . From this hori z on I imagine the one which the eye

Touch cannot bridge distance—i t is fit only for the contactof surfaces—but thought leaps the chasm . For this reason Iam able to use w ords descriptive of Objects distant from mysenses. I have felt the rondure of the in fant’s tender form .

I can apply this perception to the landscape and to the farOff hi l ls.

I have not touched the outline of a star nor the glory ofthe moon, but I believe that God has set tw o lights in my mind,the greater to rul e by day and the lesser by night, and by themI know tha t I am able to navigate my li fe - bark, as certa in of

reaching the haven as he who steers by the North Star. Per

haps my sun shines not as yours. The colors that glori fy myw orld, the blue of t he sky , the green of the fi elds, may not

correspond exactly with those you delight in ; but they are

none t he less color to me. The sun does not shine for my physica l eyes, nor does the lightning flash, nor do the trees turn

green in the spring ; but they have not therefore ceased to exist , any more than the landscape is annihilated when you turn

your back on it .I understand how Sca rlet can differ from crimson because


I know tha t the smell of an orange is not the smell of a grapefruit . I can a lso conce ive that colors have shades, and guessw hat shades are . In smell and taste there are va rieties not

broad enough to be fundamenta l ; so I ca l l them shades. Thereare ha l f a doz en roses near me . They al l have the unmist akable rose scent ; ye t my nose tells me tha t they are not the same .

The American Beauty is d istinct from t he Jacqueminot andthe La France . Odors in cert a in grasses fade as rea lly to mysense as certa in colors do to yours in the sun . The freshnessof a flow er in my hand is ana logous to the freshness I tastein an apple new ly picked . I make use of ana logies like theseto en large my conceptions Of colors. Some ana logies whichI draw betw een qua l ities in surface and vibration , taste and

sme l l , are draw n by others betw een sight , hea ring, and touch .

This fact encourages me to persevere , to try to bridge t he gapbetw een t he eye and the hand .

Certa in ly I get far enough to sympa thi z e with the delighttha t my kind fee l in beauty they see and ha rmony they hea r.Th is bond betw een human ity and me is w orth keeping, eveni f t he ideas on w h ich I base i t prove erroneous.

Sw eet, beauti ful vibrations ex ist for my touch, even thoughthey travel t hrough other substances than a ir to reach me. SO

I imagine sw eet, delightful sounds, and t he a rtistic arrange

ment of them w h ich is ca l led music, and I remember tha t theytravel through the a ir to the ear, convey ing impressions somewha t l ike m ine . I a lso know w ha t tones are , since they are

percept ible ta ctua lly in a voice . Now ,heat varies grea tly in

the sun ,in the fi re , in ha nds, and in the fur Of anima ls. In

deed ,there is such a th ing forme as a cold sun . SO I think of

t he varieties Of light tha t touch t he ey e, cold and w a rm, vivida nd d im

, soft and gla ring, but a lw ays light , and I imagine the i r

passage through the a ir to an ex tensive sense , instead of to a

narrow one like touch . From t he experience I have had w ithvoices I guess how the eye distinguishes shades in the midst ofl ight . While I read the l ips of a w oman w hose voice is so

prano,I note a low tone or a glad tone in t he midst of a high ,

flow ing voice . When I feel my cheeks hot , I know tha t I amred . I have ta lked so much and read so much about colorsthat through no w ill of my ow n I attach mean ings to them ,

just as a l l people a ttach certa in meanings to abstract terms like


hope, idea lism, monotheism, intellect, w hich cannot be repre

sented truly by visible objects, but w hich are understood fromana logies betw een immateria l concepts and the ideas theyawaken of externa l things. The force of associa t ion drivesme to say that w hite is ex a lted and pure, green is exuberant ,red suggests love or shame or strength . Without the color ori t s equiva lent , li fe to me w ould be da rk, ba rren , a vast blackness.

Thus through an inner l aw of completeness my thoughtsare not perm itted to rema in colorless. It stra ins my m ind tosepara te color and sound from objects. Since my educat ionbegan I have a lw ays had th ings described to me w it h theircolors and sounds by one w i t h keen senses and a fi ne feel ingfor t he significant . Therefore I habitua lly think of th ings as

colored and resonant . Habit accounts for part . The soulsense accounts for another pa rt . The bra in w ith i t s fi ve - sensedconstruct ion asserts i t s right and accounts for the rest . In

elusive of a l l , the unity of t he w orld demands tha t color bekept in it, w hether I have cogn i z a nce of it or not . Rather thanbe shut out , I take part in it by discussing it, imagin ing i t ,happy in the happiness of those nea r me who ga z e a t the lovelyhues of the sunset or the ra inbow .

My hand has i ts share in this multiple know ledge , but i tmust never be forgotten tha t w ith the fingers I see only a verysma ll port ion of a surface, and tha t I must pass my hand con

t inua l ly over it be fore my touch grasps the w hole . It is st i llmore importa nt , how ever, to remember that my imagina tion isnot tethered to certa in points, loca tions, a nd d istances. It putsa l l the pa rts together simultaneously as i f it saw or knew in

stead oi feeling them . Though I feel only a sma ll pa rt of myhorse a t a time—my horse is nervous and does not submit tomanua l explorat ions—yet , because I have many times felt hock,nose, hoof and mane , I can see the steeds of Phoebus Apollocoursing t he heavens.

With such a power active i t is impossible tha t my thoughtshould be vague , indistinct . It must needs be potent, definite .

This is rea lly a corollary of the philosophica l truth that therea l world ex ists only for t he mind . That is to say I can nevertouch the w orld in i t s entirety ; indeed , I touch less of it thanthe portion that others see or hear . But a l l creatures, a l l 0b

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

ject s, pass into my bra in entire, and occupy t he same ex ten tthere that they do in ma teria l spa ce. I declare tha t for mebranched thoughts, instead of pines, w ave, sw ay, rust le, makemusica l the ridges of mounta ins rising summit upon summit .Mention a rose too far aw ay for me to smell it . Stra ightwaya scent stea ls into my nostril, a form presses aga inst my pa lmin a l l i t s d i la ting softness, w ith rounded peta ls, slightly curlededges, curving stem, leaves drooping. When I would fa inview t he w orld as a w hole, it rushes into vision—man ,

beast,bird, reptile, fly, sky , ocean , mounta ins, pla in , rock, pebble .

The w a rmth of li fe, the rea lity of creation is over a l l—thethrob of human hands, glossiness of fur, lithe windings of

long bodies, poignant buz z ing Of insects, the ruggedness of

t he steeps as I climb them , t he liquid mobility and boom of

waves upon the rocks. Strange to say , try as I may , I cannotforce my touch to pervade th is universe in a l l directions. The

moment I try, the w hole vanishes ; only sma ll objects or na rrowportions of a surface , mere touchsigns, a chaos of things sca tt ered a t random, rema in . No thri ll , no delight is excitedthereby . Restore to the artistic, comprehensive interna l sensei t s rightful doma in, and you give me joy w hich best provesthe rea lity.

Be fore my teacher came to me, I did not know that I am.

I lived in a w orld tha t w as a no- w orld . I cannot hOpe to describe adequately tha t unconscious, yet conscious time of nothingness. I d id not know that I knew aught, or tha t I livedor acted or desired . I had neither w i l l nor intellect . I w a scarried a long to objects and acts by a certa in blind natura l im

petus. I had a mind w hich caused me to feel anger, sa t isfaction

,desire . These tw o facts led those about me to suppose

tha t I w illed and thought . I can remember a l l this, not be

cause I knew tha t i t w as so, but because I have tactua l memory.

It enables me to remember tha t I never contracted my foreheadin the act of thinking. I never viewed anything beforehand orchose it . I a lso reca ll tactua lly the fact that never in a

sta rt of the body or a heart - beat did I feel that I loved or ca redfor anything. My inner li fe, then ,

w as a blank without past,present, or future, without hope or anticipation, without w onder or joy or fa ith.



brought me know ledge . It w as t he awakening of my soultha t first rendered my senses the ir va lue, their cogn i z ance of

objects, names, qua lities, and properties. Thought made meconscious of love , joy , and a l l t he emotions. I w as eager toknow , then to understand , a fterw a rd to reflect on wha t I knewand understood , and t he blind impetus, w hich had be foredriven me h ither and thither a t the dicta tes of my sensa tions ,van ished forever .I cannot represent more clearly than any one else t he grad

ua l and subtle changes from first impressions to abstract ideas.

But I know tha t my physica l ideas, that is, ideas derived frommateria l objects, appear to me first in ideas simila r to thoseof touch . Instantly they pass into intellectua l mean ings.

Afterw a rd the mean ing finds ex pression in w ha t is ca l led “in

ner speech . When I w as a ch i ld ,my inner speech w as inner

Spel l ing. Although I am even now frequently caught spell ingto mysel f on my fingers

, yet I ta lk to mysel f , too, w ith my lips,and it is true tha t w hen I first learned to speak, my mind disca rded the fi nger- symbols and began to articulate . How ever,when I try to reca l l w ha t some one has sa id to me, I am con

scious of a hand spelling into mine .

It has often been asked w ha t w ere my earliest impressionsof t he w orld in w hich I found myself . But one w ho thinks a ta l l of his first impressions know s w hat a riddle th is is. Our

impressions grow and change unnoticed , so that w ha t w e sup

pose w e thought as ch ildren may be qui t e d ifferent from w hatw e actua lly experienced in our ch i ldhood . I on ly know tha ta fter my educa t ion began the w orld w h ich came w ith in myreach w as a l l a l ive . I spelled to my blocks and my dogs. Isympath i z ed w it h pl a nts w hen t he flow ers w ere picked , becauseI thought it hurt them, and tha t they grieved for their lostblossoms. It w as yea rs before I could be made to believe tha tmy dogs d id not understand w hat I sa id , and I a lw ays apolo

gi z ed to them w hen I ran into or stepped on them.

As my experiences broadened and deepened, t he indet erminate , poetic feelings of childhood began to fi x themselves indefin ite thoughts. Na ture—the w orld I could touch—w as

folded and filled w ith mysel f . I am inclined to believe those

ph ilosophers w ho declare tha t w e know noth ing but our ow n

feelings and ideas. With a little ingen ious reasoning one may


see in the materia l world simply a mirror, an image of per

manent menta l sensat ions. I n either sphere, sel f - know ledgeis t he condition and the l imit of our consciousness. That isw hy , perhaps, many people know so little about w ha t is beyondthei r short range of experience . They look w ithin themselves—and fi nd nothing. Therefore they conclude tha t there isnoth ing outside themselves, e ither.How ever tha t may be , I came la ter to look for an image

of my emotions and sensat ions in others. I had to learn the

outw a rd signs of inward feelings. The start of fea r, the sup

pressed , controlled tensity Of pa in , the beat of happy musclesin others, had to be perce ived and compared with my ow n

experiences be fore I could trace them back to the intangiblesoul of another. Groping, uncert a in ,

I a t last found my identity, and a fter seeing my thoughts and feelings repea ted inothers, I gradua lly constructed my world of men and of God .

As I read and study, I fi nd tha t this is what the rest of therace has done. Man looks w ith in himsel f and in time fi nds themeasure and t he mean ing of the un iverse.

MY DREAMS

From The Cen tury Maaas ine, November, 1 908 . Copyright , The Cen tury Company,and used here by permi ssion.

I USED to wonder why Scientific men and others w erea lways asking me about my dreams. But I am not surprisednow , Since I have discovered wha t some of them believe to bethe ordinary w aking experience of one w ho is both dea f andblind . They think tha t I can know very little about objectseven a few feet beyond the reach of my arms. Everythingoutside of mysel f, according to them ,

is a ha z y blur . Trees,mounta ins cities, the ocean , even the house I live in ,

are but

fa iry fabr1ca t ions, misty unrea lities. Therefore it is assumedthat my dreams should have peculia r interest for t he man ofscience . In some undefined w ay i t is expected that they shouldreveal t he world I dwell in to befla t , formless, colorless, w ithout perspective, with little thickness and less sol idity—a vastSolitude of soundless space . But w ho sha ll put into w ordsl imitless, vision less, si lent void ? One should be a disembodied

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Spirit indeed to make anything out of such insubstant ia l experiences. A world, or a dream, for tha t ma tt er, to be com

prehensible to us, must, I should think, have a wa rp of substance w oven into t he w oof of fantasy. W e cannot imagineeven in dreams an object which has no counterpart in rea l ity.

Ghosts a lw ays resemble somebody, and i f they do not appea rthemselves their presence is ind ica ted by circumstances w ithw hich w e are perfectly familia r.

During sleep w e enter a strange, mysterious rea lm,which

science has thus far not explored. Beyond t he border- lineof slumber, the investiga tor may not pass with his commonsense rule and test . Sleep w ith softest touch locks a l l t he ga tesof our physica l senses and lulls to rest the conscious will, thedisciplina rian of our waking thoughts. Then the spiritw renches itsel f free from t he sinew y arms of reason and, likea winged courser, spurns the fi rm, green earth and speeds awayupon wind and cloud , leaving neither trace nor footprint bywhich science may track i ts fl ight and bring us knowledge ofthe d istant , shadow y country that w e n ightly visit. When w e

come back from t he dream - rea lm, w e can give no reasonablereport of w ha t w e met there . But once across the border, w efeel a t home , as i f w e had a lw ays lived there and had nevermade any ex cursions into this rationa l, daylight world .

My dreams do not seem to d iffer very much from the

dreams of other people . Some of them are coherent, and sa fely hitched to an event or a conclusion ; others are inconsequentand fantastic . Al l a ttest tha t in D reamland there is no suchthing as repose . W e are a lw ays up and doing, with a mindfor any adventure . \Ve act , strive, think, suffer, and are gladto no purpose . W e leave outside the porta ls of Sleep a l l

troublesome incredul ities and vex atious speculations as to probability. I floa t wra ithl ike upon clouds, in and out among t hewinds, w ithout the fa intest notion tha t I am doing anythingunusua l . In D reamland I fi nd little tha t is a ltogether strangeor w holly new to my ex perience . No matter what happens, Iam not aston ished

,how ever ex traordina ry the circumstances

may be . I visit a foreign land w here I have not been in rea l ity,and I converse with people whose language I have never hea rd .

Yet w e manage to understand one another perfectly. Intow ha tsoever Situa tion or society my wanderings bring me, there


is the same homogeneity . I f I happen into Vagabondia , Imake merry w ith t he jolly folk of the road or the tavern .

I do not remember ever to have met persons with whom Icould not a t once commun ica te, or to have been Shocked orsurprised a t the doings of my dream - compan ions. It is strangewandering in those dusky groves of Slumberland my soultakes everything for granted and adapts itsel f to t he wildestphantoms. I am seldom con fused . Everyt hing is as clear asday . I know events the instant they take place , and w hereverI turn my steps, mind is my fa ith ful guide and interpreter.I suppose every one has had in a dream the ex asperating,

profi t less experience of seeking something urgently desired a t

the moment, and the aching, w ea ry sensa tion tha t follows eachfa ilure to track the thing to i t s hid ing -

place . Sometimes wi tha singi ng di z z iness in my head I cl imb and climb, I know not

where or why. Yet I cannot quit t he torturing, passionateendeavor, though aga in and aga in I reach out bl indly for anobject to hold to. Of course, accord ing to t he perversity ofdreams, there is no object nea r. I clutch empty a ir, and thenI fa ll downw ard and sti ll dow nw ard , and in the midst of thefa ll I dissolve into t he atmosphere upon which I have beenfloating so precariously.

Some of my dreams seem to be traced one w ithin anotherlike a series of concentric circles. In sleep I think I cannotsleep . I toss about in t he toils of tasks unfin ished . I decideto get up and read for a w h ile . I know the Shel f in my library w here I keep t he book I w ant . The book has no name ,but I fi nd it w ithout d ifli cul ty . I settle mysel f comfortably int he Morris- cha ir, the great book Open on my knee . Not a

word can I make out . The pages are utterly blank. I am not

surprised, but keenly disappoin t ed . I finger the pages, I bendover them lovingly, the tea rs fa ll on my hands. I shut thebook quickly as the thought passes through my mind,

“The

print will be a l l rubbed out i f I get it w et .”Yet there is no

print tangible on the page !This morn ing I thought tha t I aw oke. I w as certa in tha t

I had overslept . I sei z ed my w a tch, and, sure enough, itpointed to an hour a fter my rising t ime. I sprang up in the

grea test hurry, know ing tha t breakfast w as ready. I ca lledmy mother

,w ho declared tha t my watch must be wrong. She

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

w as certa in it could not be so la te . I looked a t my watch aga in ,

and , lo ! the hands w iggled,w h irled , buz z ed , and disappea red .

I aw oke more fully as my d ismay grew, until I w as a t the

antipodes of sleep. Fina lly my eyes opened actua l ly ,~ and I

knew tha t I had been dreaming. I had only waked into sleep .

What is still more bew i ldering, there is no d ifference betw een

the consciousness of the sham waking and tha t of the rea l one .

It is fearful to th ink that a l l that w e have ever seen ,felt,

read, and done , may suddenly rise to our dream - vision, as the

sea casts up objects it has sw a llow ed . I have held a l ittlechi ld in my a rms in the midst of a riot and spoken vehemently,imploring t he Russian soldiers not to massacre the Jew s. Ihave relieved the agon i z ing scenes of t he Sepoy Rebellion and

the French Revolution . Cities have burned be fore my eyes,and I have fought the flames until I fell exhausted. Holocaustsovertake t he w orld

,and I struggle in va in to save my friends.

Once in a dream a message came speed ing over land and

sea tha t w inter w as descending upon t he w orld from t he NorthPole

,that the Arct ic z one w as sh i fting to our mild climate .

Far and w ide t he message flew . The ocean w as congea ledin midsummer. Ships w ere held fast in the ice by thousands,the sh ips w ith la rge w hite sa i ls w ere held fast . R iches of theOrient and t he plenteous ha rvests of t he Golden West mightno more pass betw een nation and na tion . For some time t hetrees and flow ers grew on , desp ite the intense cold . Birdsflew in to the houses for sa fety, and those w h ich w inter hadovert aken lay on t he snow w ith w ings spread in va in fl ight .At last the fol iage and blossoms fell a t the feet of w inter.The pe t a ls of t he flow ers w ere turned to rubies and sapphires.

The leaves froz e into emera lds. The trees moaned and tossedthe ir bra nches as t he frost p ierced them through bark and sap ,

pierced into the ir very root s. I sh ivered mysel f aw ake , and

with a tumult of joy I brea t hed t he many sw eet morn ing Odorswakened by the summer sun .

One need not visit an African jungle or an Indian forestto hunt t he t iger. One can l ie in bed amid dow ny p i l low s and

ream t igers as terr ible as any in the pa thl ess w ild . I w a s a

l ittle girl w hen one n ight I tried to cross t he garden in frontof my aunt’s house in Alabama . I w a s in pursuit of a la rgeca t with a grea t, bushy ta il . A few hours be fore he had clawed


my l ittle canary out of i t s cage,and crunched it betw een h is

cruel teeth . I could not see t he ea t ; but the thought in mymind w as d istinct : H e is making for the h igh grass a t the

end of t he ga rden . I'

l l ge t there first . ” I put my hand on thebox border and ran sw i ftly a long the pa th . When I reachedt he high grass, there w as the ca t glid ing into the w avy tangle .

I rushed forward and tried to se i z e h im and take the bi rd frombetw een his teeth . To my horror, a huge beast , not t he ca t a t

a l l , sprang out from t he grass,and h is sinew y shoulder rubbed

aga inst me w ith pa lp itat ing strengt h ! H is ears stood up and

quivered w ith anger. H is eyes w ere hot . H is nostrils w erela rge and w et . H is l ips moved horribly . I knew it w as a

t iger, a rea l live tiger, and t ha t I should be devoured—my l i tt l e bird and I . I do not know w ha t happened a fter tha t. The

next import ant thing seldom happens in dreams.

at

I n my dreams I have sensa tions, odors, tastes, and ideaswhich I do not remember to have had in rea lity . Perhaps theyare t he glimpses w h ich my mind catches through t he vei l ofsleep of my ea rliest babyhood . I have hea rd “

the tramplingof many wa ters.

” Sometimes a w onderful l ight visits me insleep. Such a flash and glory as i t is ! I ga z e and ga z e untilit van ishes. I smell and taste much as in my w aking hours ;but t he sense of touch plays a less import ant part . I n sleepI a lmost never grope . No one guides me . Even in a crow dedstreet I am sel f - suffi cien t , and I enjoy an independence quiteforeign to my physical l i fe. Now I seldom spell on my fingers,and i t is st i ll rarer for others to spell into my hand . My mindacts independent of my physica l organs. I am delighted to bethus endow ed , i f only in sleep ; for then my soul dons i t swinged sanda ls and joyfully joins the throng of happy beingsw ho dw ell beyond the reaches of bodi ly sense .

The mora l inconsistency of dreams is glaring. Mine growless and less accordant w ith my proper principles. I am n ightlyhurled into an uneth ica l medley of extremes. I must e itherde fend another to t he last drop of my blood or condemn h impast a l l repent ing. I commit murder sleeping, to save t he livesof others. I ascribe to those I love best acts and words whichi t mort ifi es me to remember, and I cast reproach a fter ro


proach upon them. It is fortunate for our peace of mindtha t most wicked dreams are soon forgotten . Dea th

, suddenand awful, strange loves and hates remorselessly pursued, cunn ingly plotted revenge, are seldom more than dim,

haunt ingrecollections in the morn ing, and during the day they are erasedby the norma l activities of t he mind . Sometimes, immediatelyon waking, I am so vexed a t the memory of a dream - fracastha t I wish I may dream no more . With this wish distinctlybe fore me I drop off aga in into a new turmoil of dreams.

Oh, dreams, wha t opprobrium I heap upon you—you, the

most pointless things imaginable, saucy apes, brewers of od ious contrasts, haunting birds of ill omen , mocking echoes, nuseasonable reminders, oft - returni ng vexa tions, Skeletons inmy Morris- cha ir, jesters in the tomb, dea th

’s- heads at the

wedding feast , outlaws of the bra in that every n ight de fy themind’s police service, thieves of my Hesperidean apples, breakers of my domestic peace, murderers of sleep !

“Oh, dreadfuldreams that do fright my spi rit from her propriety l

”No w on

der tha t Hamlet pre ferred the ills he knew rather than run

t he risk of one dream - vision.

Yet remove the dream - world , and the loss is inconceivable.

The magi c spell w h ich binds poetry together is broken. The

splendor of art and t he soaring might of imagi nation are

lessened because no phantom of fadeless sunsets and flowersurges onw a rd to a goa l . Gone is the mute permission or con

n ivance which emboldens the soul to mock t he limits of timeand space, forecast and gather in ha rvests of achievementfor ages yet unborn . Blot out dreams, and t he blind lose oneof their chief comforts ; for in t he visions of sleep they behold their belie f in t he seeing mind and their expectation of

light beyond t he blank, narrow n ight justified . Nay , our con

cept ion of immorta li ty is shaken . Fa ith, the motive - power ofhuman li fe , fl ickers out . Before such vacancy and ba renessthe shock of w recked worlds w ere indeed welcome . In truth,dreams bring us the thought independently of us and in spiteof us that the soul

may rightHer na ture, shoot large sa i l on lengthening cord,And rush exultan t on the Infin i te.



commonplace. In a flash , in the winking of an eye, theysna tch the burden from my Shoulder, t he trivia l task from myhand, and t he pa in and disappointment from my hea rt, and Ibehold the lovely face of my dream . It dances round mewith merry measure, and darts hither and thither in happyabandon . Sudden ,

sweet fancies spri ng forth from every nookand corner, and del ight ful surprises meet me a t every turn .

A happy dream is more precious than gold and rubies.

I like to think that in dreams w e catch glimpses of a li fela rger than our ow n . W e see it as a little child , or as a sav

age who visits a civili z ed nation . Thoughts are impa rted tous far above our ordinary thinking . Feelings nobler and wiserthan any w e have know n thri ll us betw een hea rt - bea ts. For

one fleeting night a princelier nature captures us, and w e

become as great as our aspirations.

JOHN PENDLETON KENNEDY

[ 1 795 - 1 a7o5

JESSE LEW I S ORR ICK

OHN PENDLETON KENNEDY w as born in Ba lt imore, Maryland, October 25 , 1 795 . He w as one of the four sons of JohnKennedy, a merchant of Ba ltimore, and Nancy Clayton Kennedy, néePendleton , a na tive of Martinsburg, Berkeley County (then ) , V irgin ia . John Kennedy w a s an imm igrant of Scotch - I ri sh descent.Nancy Clayton Pendleton w as a descendant of old Engl i sh gentlefolk

,w ho throughout severa l genera tions on American so i l had

ma inta ined, part icularly in Virgin ia , a pos ition of soc ia l and poli t ica ld i stinction .

Wh i le the subj ect of th i s sketch w as yet a young man ,the father

met w i th certa in reverses in fortune w h ich compelled the rel inqu i shment of his esta te in Ba ltimore and ret irement from h is businessthere. He then moved h is household to a country property, ow nedby h is w i fe, situa ted near Charles Tow n , Jeff erson County, Virgin ia ,but John Pendleton rema ined in Ba ltimore to pract ice h is profession ,

t he l aw .

Young Kennedy had been gradua ted in the academ ic courses ofS incla ir’s Academy in 1 808, and a t Ba ltimore College in 1 8 1 2, and

these courses, though one - sided (in the preponderance of the cla ss ics and neglect of mathema t ics and the physica l sc iences ) , yet a fforded a s good educa t iona l Opportun ities a s w ere to be had in Maryland in tha t day . Moreover, Kennedy derived grea t broaden ing ofthi s bas i s from h is ow n reading, much of w h ich w as done under theguida nce of older men of culture w ho seem early to have recogn i z edh is apt itude for li terature and scholarsh ip . At the Bar of Ba lt imore ,w here then practiced a group of d istingu ished law yers , he soon w on

an honorable pla ce, and through the Bar came into poli tics and

publ i c l i fe . H is publ ic career began w i th his elect ion to the L egi sla ture of Maryland in 1 820; he w as reé lect ed in 1 82 1 mak ingh is term three successive years. H i s other princ ipa l publ ic offi cesw ere : Member of Congress, tw o terms, beginn ing in 1 838 ; Secreta ryof the Navy under President Fi llmore ; Speaker of the Ma rylandHouse of Del ega tes in 1 847. He decl ined other offi ces, both Sta tea nd Federa l , but h is interest in pol i tics w as con stant, though e le

va t ed and patriotic, throughout h is li fe. He held other semi - publ ic2897


but non -

pol it i ca l ofi ces. He w as once Provost of the Universi t y ofMary land, a trustee of the Pea body In sti tute, and a commissionerto the Pa ri s Ex posi t ion . He w as a lso a director in a ra i lw ay cor

pora tion. Wh i le in Congress he w as ch iefly instrumen ta l in oh

ta ini ng for the inven tor, Morse, the necessa ry appropri a tion for a

convincing publi c demonstration of t he pract icabi li ty of the tel egraph . A channel in Arct ic regions bearing t he name of Kennedytest ifies to Dr. Kane’s appreciation of t he serv ice rendered by th isSecretary of the Navy in obta in ing Government a id for the organi z a t ion of the first Grinnell ex pedition in search of S ir John Frankl in . To thi s variety of interest s he added a love of lett ers and,

though ever busy w i th pol it ics and a ffa irs, found lei sure hours inw h ich l i terary production became his pa st ime. Of h is ea rl ier e f

forts , a s for ex amwe, h is contribution s to The R ed Book , a j ourna lof humor, ph i losophy, and sa tire in t he style of t he “ Sa lamagundi

Pape rs,” there i s now scarcely a scrap to be found. Mention shouldbe made here of h i s hav ing once essayed journa l ism in i t s prOper

form, as he w as for a t ime editor of t he B a l t imore Ameri can.

I t w as not unti l h e had rea ched middle l i fe that he publ ished thefirst of the three novels on w h ich rests h i s l i terary fame. ‘

Sw a llowBa rn’

appeared in 1 829, and‘

Horse - Shoe Robinson’ and‘

Rob—ofthe - Bow l’ during t he years 1 834 inclusive.These novels should not be overlooked by the studen t of Amer

ican l itera ture w ho w ould fa ith fully trace i t s development. Ken

nedy w as among those w ho, l ike h i s friend I rving, “ succeeded inshow ing the incredulous abroad tha t an Am erican book might berichly w ort h t he read ing” ; and he w as one of the p ioneers in the

field of American l i tera ture ; so, more especia lly, w as he one of thefirst and one of the ablest makers of a l itera ture d istinctly Southern.

‘

Sw a llow Barn ,

’as i t s author adm its, is not a novel in the tech

n ica l sen se of the term,but a seri es of origina lly deta ched sketches

w h ich have been “ l inked together by the hooks and eyes of a travcl er’s notes.” Neverthel ess, the author’s design to a fford a com

pl et e p icture of country l i fe in V irgin ia , as ex isting in the firstquart er of the Nineteenth Century, is ski l fully accompl i shed. Typica lcha ra cters move in typ ica l scenes. The reader becomes w ell acqua in t ed w ith the Virgin ia country gentleman in Frank Meriw ether ; w ith the an t e - bellum law yer in Ph i lly Wart , and w i ththe dependen t schola r, the prov incia l teacher and preacher in

Parson Chubb. W e attend “Court D ay ,

”w i tness an

“OpossumHunt,” and enjoy the m irth and hospita l i ty of a “Country Gathering.

” Mystery is a fforded in the accounts of “ Gobl in Sw amp” and

i ts ghosts ; pa thos, in t he story of “A Negro Mother w hi le love


mo SOUTHERN L ITERATURE

of St . Mary’s (or St . George

’s) , the sometime sa t of the Lord

Proprieta ry of Ma ryland Colony, of w h ich nea rly every physica l tracehad been obl i tera t ed ,

a nd to re -

peop l e tha t place w i th such men

and w omen as had dw elt therein nea rly tw o cen turi es before. In

thi s ach ievemen t he not on ly con tri but ed worthily to American fict ion

but to the h istory of h i s na t ive Sta t e as w el l . Though th is w orkha s been less w idely rea d t han ei ther ‘

Sw a l low Ba rn’or

‘

Horse - Shoe

Robi nson,

’

yet perhaps i t ex cel s ei ther in li terary meri ts, and i t i s

trul y en terta i n ing and inst ruct i ve. there i s some just i ce inthe cri ti ci sm tha t “ t he charact ers are so various and strongly ma rked ,

severa l of them so elabora tely fin i shed as to divide the int erest and

presen t the st ory as one w i t hout a hero ,” yet , a ft er a l l , i t is in t hi svery abundance and variet y of cha ra cter- study tha t Kennedy '

s cha rm

l i es. H is na t i ve ta len t w as for portra i ture, and so in hi s groups one

figure is nea rly as prominent as another, and a l l are draw n w i th

equal ca re.Of Kennedy

’s pol i tica l w ri tings on ly tw o have been preserved in

book form ,fi z :

‘

The Anna ls of Quodl ibet ,’

and‘Mr. Ambrose’s Let

ters on the Rebell ion .

’The first is a pol i ti ca l sa t ire on the times

in w hi ch i t w as publ i shed The pol i ti ca lly independentreader of today should fi nd much diversion in the pages of th i sl i terary ex t ravaganz a w h ich so successfully holds bl ind pa rti sansh ipand sham pa triotism up to ridi cule.The “Ambrose Letters” w ere contributed to a Washington (D C )

new spaper w h i le the Civi l W ar w as in progress, and a t the conclusion of t he w ar they w ere collected , a fter revi sion , in to a sma llvolume. I n a style made forceful by s impl ici ty and di rectness, theselett ers set forth t he vi ew s of one of tha t Sout hern m inori ty w ho

from conscientious and not from selfish motives adhered to t he Federa l cause.Betw een the publ icat ion of

‘

Quod l ibet’and of ‘Mr. Ambrose’s

Le tt ers’ (in appeared‘Memo irs of Wi ll iam \Virt .

’ “ Th i s w asa l ike a labor of love and a w ork of interest and uti l i ty

,

” observedTuckerman .

“ In many po ints of cha racter and ta ste there ex i steda remarkable a ffi n i ty betw een t he biographer a nd h is subj ect ; th eypossessed a k indred love of l i tera ture and w ere endow ed w i th socia lapt i tudes and sympa th ies a t once endearing and characteri sti c. Dur

ing Mr. Wirt’s practice a t the Ba ltimore Bar, Mr. Kennedy had become fami l iar w ith h is professiona l triumph s and his persona l charmand w orth . The principa l sources of t he memoir w ere draw n fromthe intima te correspondence of Wi rt, from h is ofi cia l records, and

from t he remin i scences of a tta ched fri ends.

JOHN PENDLETON KENNEDY 2901

Th is b iography is not the least va luable of Kennedy’s achi evements in t he rea lm of letters . W ithout a ttempts a t profound characterana lysi s, i t nevertheless gives, through W irt

’

s correspondence, an

ex cellent ins ight into his menta l and Sp iri tua l make - up , and ch ieflythrough the same med ium ca sts many va luable side - l ight rays uponthe pol i t ics and sta tesmanship of the early days of t he Republ ic.Adm irers of Kennedy must regret tha t he w as not a more pro

l ifi c w riter. The rea sons for h i s producing no more in l i terature thanhe d id a re readi ly a ppa rent and very s imple. Un ti l he w a s nea rlysix ty yea rs of age Mr. Kennedy had many concern s besides l itera ture :th en soon came the Civ i l W a r

,check ing a l l l i t erary product ions ;

w h i le a t the conclus ion of the w ar he w as w ell advanced in years, andin decl in ing hea lth . H e d ied August 1 8, 1 870.

“Aut hor, Sta tesman ,

Pa triot—he adorned every pa th w h ich he pursued” w ere the w ordsof his ep ita ph ; and from the record of h is l i fe and the study ofh is w rit ings w e know th i s pra ise w a s deserved ; but, even w ere no

such record ava i l able a nd no l ine of h is w ri tings preserved, w e m ightst i ll judge h im by t he company he kept ; for the friend of I rv ingand Thackeray and Cooper, of Bancroft and Prescott , of Pinckneyand W irt, of Henry Clay and Dan iel Webster, the patron of Poe,the counselor of S imms, must have been a man of unusua l character,talent, and culture .

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

THE BATTLE OF KING’S MOUNTAIN

From Horse- Shoe Robinson .

’

EVERY corps w as now in motion , and the tw o flankingdivisions w ere soon lost to view in the interven ing forest . An

incident of some interest to our story makes it necessa ry tha tw e Should , for a moment , follow t he track of Cleveland in h isma rch upon the left side of the mounta in.

The principa l road of travel northwards extended al ongthe va lley on this side ; and upon this road Cleveland and Wil liams conducted their men, until they a rrived at a point suffi cient ly remote to enable them, by ascending the he ight, toplace themselves in Ferguson’

s rear. They had just reachedthis point w hen they encountered a picquet of the enemy ,which a fter a few shots, retired hastily up the mounta in.

The lit tle outpost had sca rcely begun to give ground, before the leading compan ies of the Wh igs had the ir attent iondrawn to t he movements of a sma ll pa rty of horsemen w ho

at tha t moment appeared in sight upon t he road, some distance in advance . They were approaching t he Americancolumn ; and , as i f taken by surprise a t the appea rance of thisforce, set spurs to their horses and made an effort to ride be~

yond t he reach of Cleveland’s fi re, whilst they took a directionup by t he mounta in towards Ferguson

’s stronghold. From the

equipment of these individua ls, it might have been in ferredthat they were tw o gentlemen of some distinction connectedwith t he roya l a rmy, a ttended by the ir servants, and now abouta rriving, a fter a long journey , a t t he British camp . The firstw as habited in the un i form of an offi cer, w as well mounted ,and d isplayed a light and active figure, w hich appea red to ad

vantage in t he dext erous management of his horse . The sec

ond w as a gentleman in a pla in rid ing costume , of Slender andwell - kn it proportions, and mani festly older than h is compan ion.

H e rode a pow erful and spirited horse , with a confidence and

command not in ferior to those of h is associa tes. The othersin a ttendance , from thei r posit ion in the rea r, and from t he

heavy portmanteaus that encumbered the ir saddles, w e mighthave no difficulty in conjecturing to be menia ls in the serviceof the two first.



Campbe ll here deployed into line, and h is men strode briskly upw a rds unt i l they had come within musket - shot of theBritish regula rs, w hose Sha rp and prolonged volleys, at thisinstant, suddenly burst fort h from the crest of the hill . Peal

a fter pea l rattled a long the mounta in side, and volumes of

smoke , si lvered by the light of the sun, rolled over and en

ve loped t he comba tants.

When the bree z e had pa rtia lly swept aw ay this cloud, andopened gl impses of the battle behind it, the troops of Campbell w ere seen recoi ling be fore an impetuous cha rge of the bayonet , in w hich Ferguson himsel f led the w ay . A sudden ha ltby t he ret rea ting Whigs, and a st ern front stead fastly op

posed to the foe , checked the a rdor of his pursuit a t an ea rlymomen t

,and ,

in turn , he w as d iscovered retiring tow ards h isorig ina l ground , hot ly follow ed by the mounta ineers. Aga in ,

the same vigorous onset from the roya lists w as repea ted, andaga in the shaken bands of Campbell ra llied and turned backt he rush of ba ttle tow a rds the summit . At last , panting and

spen t w i th t he severe encoun t er, both pa rties stood for a

space eyeing each ot her w it h deadly rage, and w a iting only toga t her breath for the renew a l of the stri fe .

At this juncture, the dist ant firing hea rd from either flankfurn ished evidence tha t Sevier and Cleveland had both comein contact w i t h the enemy . The uprising of smoke above thetrees show ed t he seat of the comba t to be below the summiton t he mount a in sides, and t ha t t he enemy had there ha l f - w aymet h is foe ; w hi lst t he Shouts of the sold iers, a lterna ting betw een the part ies of e ither army, no less d istinctly procla imedthe fact tha t , a t these remot e poin t s, t he field w as disputed w ithbloody resolut ion and vary ing success.

It w ould overt a sk my poor faculty of description ,to gi ve

my reader even a fa int picture of th is rugged battle - fi e ld .

During the pause of t he comba t an t s of t he centre , Campbelland Shelby w ere seen riding a long the l ine , and by speech and

gesture encouraging t he ir sold iers to st i ll more determinedeffort s . L i t t le need w as there for exhort at ion ; rage seemedto have re freshed t he strengt h of t he men

,w ho, w ith loud and

fierce huz z a s, rushed aga in to the encounter. They w ere metw it h a defiance not less eager than theirow n ; and , for a t ime,the battle w as aga in obscured under the thick ha z e engendered


by t he incessant discharges of fi re - arms. From this gloom,

a yell of triumph w as sometimes heard , as momenta ry suc

cess inspired those w ho st ruggled w i th in ; and t he frequenttw inkle of pol ished steel glimmering through the murky a t

mosphere , and t he occa siona l appa rit ion Of a speed ing horseman , seen for an instant as he came in to t he clea r light , told oft he dread ful ea rnest ness and z ea l w ith w h ich the unseen hostshad now joined in t he confl ict . The impression of th is contactw as various. Part s of each force broke before the ir ant agon ist s ; and in t hose spot s w here t he a rray of the fight mightbe d iscerned through t he shade of the forest or the smoke ofbatt le, both roya lists and Whigs w ere found , a t t he same instant, to have driven back detached fragmen ts of t he ir opponeuts. Foemen w ere mingled hand to hand , through and

among their adverse ranks ; and for a t ime no conjecture mightbe indulged a s to the side to w h ich victory w ould turn .

The flanking detachments seemed to have fa l len into t hesame con fusion ,

and might have been seen retrea ting and ad

vancing upon the rough slopes of t he mounta in , in part isanbodies, separated from their lines ; thus giv ing to the scene an

a ir of bloody riot , more resembl ing t he sudden insurrectionof mutineers from the same ranks, than the orderly w ar oftra ined soldiers.

The victory w as w on . In the last assaul t , Campbell hadrea ched the crest of t he moun t a in , and the roya l ist s had given

ground w i th dec isive ind ica t ions of defeat . Ferguson , in the

hopeless effort to ra lly h is so ld iers, had flung h imsel f intothei r van , but a bullet a t this instant reached h is hea rt he fellfrom h is sea t

,and h is w hite horse, w h ich had been conspicuous

in t he crow d of ba ttle , bounded w i ldly through the ranks ofthe Wh igs, and made h is w ay dow n t he mounta in side .

Campbell passed onw a rd , driving the roya lists before him .

For a moment the d iscomfi t ed bands hoped to join their comrades in the rear, and , by a un ited effort , to effect a retreat ;but the pa rt ies led by Sevier and Cleveland , cheered by t heshouts of their victorious compan ions, urged their attacks withnew vigor, and w on t he h ill in t ime to intercept t he fugitives.

Al l hopes of escape being thus a t an end , a w hite flag w as dis

played in token of submission ; and the remnant of Fergu

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

son’s late proud and boastful army, now amount ing to betw een

eight and n ine hundred men , surrendered to the assa ilants.

It has scarcely ever happened tha t a ba ttle has been foughtin which the combatants met w ith keener individua l exasperation than in this. The morta l ha tred which embittered thefeelings ofWhig and Tory a long this border, here vented itselfin the eagerness of conflict , and gave the impulse to everyblow tha t w as struck—rendering the fight, from beginn ing toend, relentless, vind ict ive, and bloody. The remembrance of

the thousand cruelt ies practiced by the roya lists during t hebrief Tory domin ion to which my na rra tive has been confined,w as fresh in the minds of the stern and hardy men of themounta ins, w ho had pursued their foe with such fi erce ani

mosi ty to this his last stage. Every one had some wrong totell, and burned w ith an unquenchable rage of revenge. Itw as, therefore, w ith a yel l of triumph that they saw the sym

bol of submission ra ised a loft by t he enemy ; and for a space,t he forest rang w ith their loud and reitera ted huz z as.

Many brave men fell on either Side. Upon the Slopes ofthe mounta in and on i t s summit, t he bodies of t he dead and

dying lay sca ttered amongst the rocks, and the feeble groansof the w ounded mingled with the fierce tones of exultationfrom the living.

The Whigs susta ined a grievous loss in Colonel Williams,w ho had been struck down in the moment of victory. H e w as

young, ardent , and brave ; and h is many soldier- like virtues,combined w ith a generous and amiable temper, had renderedhim a cherished favorite w ith the army. H is death servedstill more to increase the exacerbation of the conquerors aga instt he conquered .

The sun w as yet an hour high w hen the ba ttle w as done .

The Whigs were formed in tw o lines on the ridge of the mounta in ; and the prisoners, more numerous than their captors,having la id dow n their a rms, were drawn up in detached columus on the interven ing ground . There were many sul lenand angry glances exchanged, during th is period of suspense ,between victors and vanquished ; and it w as w ith a fearfulrankling of inward wra th , tha t many of

“

the Whigs detected ,in the columns of the prisoners, some of their bitt erest persecutors.



sa id to have afforded to a young deer aga inst t he assaul t ofthe hounds ; the hard pressed an ima l, as t he tradition relates,having ga ined this insulated point by a bound tha t baffled themost adventurous of h is pursuers, and admiration of t he suc

cessful boldness of the leap having w on from the huntsmant he favor that spa red h is li fe .

With t he ex ception of a la rge chestnut nea r the edge of

the cli ff , and of some venerable oaks, tha t had counted centuries be fore the w hite man rested h is l imbs benea th the ir shade ,t he native grow th of the forest had been removed by L indsayfrom the summit I have described, and he had substituted fort he w i ld garn iture of nature a few of the choicest trees of

t he ne ighboring w oods. Here he had planted t he elm , the

hol ly and the l inden tree , the cedar and the a rbor vi tm. Thispla tform w as semi - circula r, and w as bounded by a terrace or

wa lk of gravel tha t sw ept a round i t s circumference . The spaceenclosed w as covered w ith a natura l grass, which the frequentuse of t he scyt he had brought to t he resemblance of velvet ;and the low er side of the terrace w as gua rded by a hedge - row

of ceda r. Over this green wa ll , as t he spectator w a lked forthin fa ir summer time , might he look out upon the distant w oodsand meadow s ; and there he might behold the high - road Showing itsel f, a t distant interva ls, upon the hill - sides ; and in the

bottom lands, tha t l ay open to the sun through t he forestbound va lleys, might be see herds of gra z ing cattle

,or fields

of yellow gra in, or perchance , t he slow moving w a in bur

dened w ith hay ,or Slow er moving plough .

The mansion itsel f pa rtook of the character of the place .

It w as perched—to use a phra se pecul iarly applicable to i tsposit ion—a lmost immediately a t that po int w here the terracemade an angle w ith t he cl iff , being de fended by a stone parapet , through w h ich an iron w icket opened upon a fl ight ofrough - hew n steps, that terminated in a pa thway leading downto the river.The ma in bui ld ing w as of stone, consisting of one lofty

story and capped w ith a steep roof, w h ich curved so far overthe front as to furnish a broad rustic porch tha t rested a lmostupon t he ground . The slim pill ars of t h is porch w ere con

cea led by la ttice - w ork, which w as overgrown with creepingvines : and the windows of t he contiguous rooms, on either Side


of a spacious hall , opened to the floor, and looked out upon thelaw n and upon the quiet landscape far beyond . One of theseapartments w as a lso accessible through t he eastern gable, bya private doorw ay shaded by a l ight veranda , and w as appropria t ed by L indsay for h is library. This porta l seemed a lmostto hang over the rock

,having but the breadth of the terrace

betw een it and t he declivity, and show ing no other foregroundthan the parapet , w hich w as here a necessary defence aga instthe cli ff , and from w h ich the romantic dell of the river w asseen in a l l i t s w i ldness.

There w ere other portions of the mansion construct ed inthe same sty le of arch itecture, un ited to this in such a manneras to a fford an uninterrupted commun ica tion , and to furn isha range of chambers for t he use of the family. A rust ic effectw as everyw here preserved . Stacks of chimneys shot up ingrotesque a rray ; and heavy, old - fashioned window s lookedqua intly dow n from t he peaked roof . Choice exotics, plantedin box es, w ere tastefully a rranged upon the law n ; cages w ithsinging- birds w ere suspended aga inst the w a ll and the w holemass of bui lding, ex tending a long the verge of t he cliff , so as

to occupy t he entire d iameter of the semi - circle , perhaps one

hundred and fifty feet , sorted by i t s Simpl icity of costume , i fI may so speak, and by i ts tidy beauty ,

w ith the close - Shavengrass-

plot and i t s trim Shades.

Above the w hole,

fl inging the ir broad and gnarled a rmsamongst the chimney tops, and forming a pleasing contrastw ith t he a rt ificia l embe l lishments of th is spot , some ancientoaks, in primeva l magnificence, reared the ir time - honoredtrunks, and no less Sheltered t he habitation from the noontideheats, than they afforded an asylum to the ringdove and h is

mate , or to the countless travellers of the a ir that here stoppedfor rest and food . Such w as the genera l aspect of the DoveCote ; a spot w here a philosopher might glide through li fe inunbroken contemplation ; where a wea ried statesman might betake himsel f to reassemble t he scattered forces of intellectfor new enterprises ; where the artist might repa ir to studywith advantage the living graces of God’s ow n pa inting ; whereyoung beauty might bud and bloom amongst the most delica teand graceful forms of ea rth .

The interior of the dw elling w as capacious and comfort


able. I t s furn iture, suitable to the estate of the ow ner, w aspla in and adapted to a mun ifi cent rather than to an ostentatious hospita lity . It w as only in the libra ry tha t evidence mightbe seen of large ex pense . Here, the books were ranged fromthe floor to t he ce iling, with sca rcely an interva l, except wherea few choice pa intings had found spa ce, or t he bust of someancient worthy. One or tw o ponderous lounging cha i rs stoodin the apa rtment ; and the footstep of the visitor w as dulledinto si lence by t he soft nap of (what , in that day , w as a rareand costly luxury ) a Turkey ca rpet . This w as in a l l respect s,an apartment of ease, and it w as provided with every incentiveto beguile a student into silent and luxurious communion withthe spirit of the sages a round him—whose subtlest thoughtsand holiest brea things, w hose most volatile fancies, had beencaught up, fix ed , and turned into tangible substance, more indestructible than adamant , by the magic of letters.

I have trespassed on the patience of my reader to give hima somewha t minute description of the Dove Cote, principa llybecause I hope thereby to open his mind to a more adequateconcept ion of the character of Philip L indsay. By looking a ta man in h is ow n dw elling, and observing h is domestic habits,I will venture to afl‘i rm , it sha ll sca rcely in any inst ance fa ilto be true, that, i f there be seen a tasteful arrangement of ma tters necessa ry to h is comfort ; i f h is household be well ordered and h is wa lks clean and w ell rolled

, and his grassplotsnea t ; and i f there be no slovenly inattention to repa irs, butthri ft aga inst w aste, and plenty for a l l ; and, i f to these beadded habits of early rising and comely att ire—and, above a l l ,

i f there be books, many books, well turned and ca refullytended—that man is one to warm up a t the coming of a gent leman ; to open his doors to him ; to take him to h is hea rt, andto do him the kindnesses of li fe . H e is a man to hate wha tis base, and to stand apa rt from the mass, as one w ho will nothave h is virtue ta inted . He is a man ,

moreover, whose worldly cra ft may be so smothered and suppressed in the predominance of t he household affections, tha t t he sk il ful and designing, a las, may ever practice with success their plans aga insthim.



Over these ruins a storm - shaken and magnifi cent mulberry, aborigina l, and contemporary w ith the settlement of t heprovince , yet rears i t s sha ttered and topless trunk, and da i lydistils upon t he sacred relics a t i t s foot , the dew s of heaven—an august and brave ol d mourner to the depa rted compan

ions of i t s prime . There is yet another memoria l in the familytomb of t he Proprietary, w hose long- respected and holy re

pose , beneath the scant shade of the mulberry, has w ith intw enty years past , been desecra ted by a w orse than Vanda loutrage , and w hose lineaments may now with d ifl‘icul ty be follow ed amidst the rubbish produced by th is violation . Thesefaded memorials tell their story like honest chron icles. And

a brave story it is of hardy adventure, and man ly love offreedom ! The scattered bricks, a l l mouldered in the motherland , remind us of t he launch ing of the bark, the struggle w itht he un familiar w ave , t he array of the wonder - stricken sav

age , and t he rude fellow sh ip of t he first meeting. They reca llthe hea rths whose early fires gleamed upon t he visage of t hebold cava l ier, while t he deep , unconquerable fa i th of religion ,

and t he impassioned inst incts of the Anglo - Saxon devotion tol iberty, w ere breathed by household groups, in ' customaryhousehold terms. They speak of sudden a larms, and quickarming for ba ttle—of stout resolve, and still stouter ach ievement . They tell of t he victory w on, and quiet gradua lly confirmed, and of the increasing rapture as, day by day , t he set

t ler’s hopes w ere converted into rea l it ies, w hen he saw the

w ilderness put forth the blossoms of security and comfort .The river penetrates from t he Potomac some tw elve miles

inland,where it terminates in li ttle forked bays w hich w ash

t he base of t he w oody hills. St . George’s Island stretches ha l facross i t s mouth ,

form ing a screen by w h ich the course of t hePotomac is partly concea led from view . From th is isl and,looking northw ard , up St . Mary’s R iver , t he eye rests upon a

glittering sheet of w a ter about a league in breadth, boundedon either shore by low meadow - grounds and cultivated fieldsgirt with borders of forest ; w hi l st in t he distance , some twoleagues upw ard , interlocking promontories, with highlands intheir rear, and cedar - crow ned cl iff s and -

abrupt acclivities w hichshut in t he channel , give to the river t he features of a lake .

St . Inigoe’s Creek, flowing into the river upon t he right hand,


a long the base of these cliff s, forms by i ts southern Shore a

fla t , na rrow and grass - clad point, upon w hich the ancient JesuitHouse of the patron sa int w hose name d istinguishes the creek,throw s up ,

in Sharp rel ief, i t s cha teau- like profi le , together withi t s w indmill, i t s old trees, barns, and cottages—the whole sug

gest ing a resemblance to a strip of pasteboard scenery on a

prolonged and Slender base line of green .

\Vhen t he voyager from t he island has trimmed h is sa iland reached t he promontories w hich formed h is first perspective , the river, now reduced to a gun - Shot in w idth , aga in opensto his view a succession of little bays, intercepted by morefrequent headlands and branch ing off in to sinuous creeks thatlose themselves in t he h i lls. Here and there, amongst thesecreeks, a Slender beach of w hite sand sepa ra tes from i t s parentflood a pool , w hich reposes l ike a mirror in the deep forest ;and a l l around , high h i lls sw eep dow n upon these placid lakes,and d isclose ha lf - embow ered cottages, w hose hoa ry roofs and

antique forms turn t he musings of the spectator to the pa lmydays of the Lord Proprietary. A more enchanting landscapet han St . Mary’s R iver—a lovelier assemblage of grassy bankand hoa ry grove , upl and Slope , cl iff , cot and strand, of tangledbrake and na rrow bay , broad , seaw a rd roadstead and a ir- sus

pended cape , may not be found benea th the yearly travel ofthe sun !

The ancient city w as S ituated nearly tw o miles beyondthe confluence of St . Inigoe’s Creek, upon a Spacious level pla inw hich ma inta ined an elevation of some fifty feet above the

river. The low - brow ed , double - roofed, and cumbrous habit a t ions of t he tow ns-

people w ere sca ttered a t random over this

pla in ,forming snug and pleasan t groups for a pa inter

’s eye,

and deriving an a ir of competence and comfort from the gar

dens and bow ers in which they w ere sheltered . The Sta teHouse stood a t the upper ex tremity of t he tow n , upon a ceda rclad headlandw hich , by an abrupt descent, terminated in a long,fla t , sandy point, that reached a lmost ha l f a cross the river. I n

regard to this building, tradition—w h ich I fi nd to be somewha tinclined to brag of i t s glory—afli rms it to have been constructedin the shape of a cross, looking tow ards the river, with wa llsthick enough to resist cannon , and perilous steep roofs, fromthe top of the chief of which shot up a spire, whereon w as im


pa led a dolphin with a crooked , bi furcated ta il . A woodenquay and w arehouse on the point show ed this to be the sea t oftrade, and a crescent - shaped bay or indenta tion betw een thisand a similar headland a t the low er extremity of the town ,

constituted the anchorage or ha rbor for the scant Shipping ofthe port .The State House looked rearw ard over the town common

a large space of open ground, a t t he farther end of which, uponthe border of a marshy inlet, covered w ith bulrushes and ca t

ta ils, stood a squat , sturdy, and tight little ja il, supported—touse the military phrase - ou one flank by a pillory and stocks,and on t he other by an implement of government w hich hasgone out of fashion in our day , but w hich found favor wi thour ancestors as an approved antidote to the preva lent d istemperof an unnecessary or too clamorous loquacity in their dames—a ducking stool , that hung suspended over a pool of sufficient depth for the most obstina te case tha t might occur.Without wea rying my reader w ith too much description,

I sha ll content mysel f with referring to but t w o or three ad

d i t iona l particulars as necessary to my future purpose : a Catholic chapel devoted to St . Igna tius, the patron of the province,in humble and unostentatious guise, occupied ,

w ith i ts appur

tenances, a few acres in the centre of the pla in , a short distancefrom that confine of the city which l ay nearest to St . Inigoe’s ;and in t he opposite qua rter, not far from t he State House,a build ing of much more pretension , though by no means so

nea t , had been erected for the service of t he Church of England ,

w hich w as then fa st grow ing into t he ascendant . On one

of t he street s leading to the beach w as the market - house, surrounded by i t s ord inaries and a le - houses : and lastly, in the

year 1 68 1 , to w h ich th is descript ion re fers, a l ittle hostelry offamous report , know n by the Sign of

“

The Crow and Archer,and kept by Master Ga rret Weasel , sto od on the w ater’s edge,a t the foot of the bank below the State House , on a piece oflevel ground looking out upon the harbor, where the travellermay still fi nd a luxuriant w ilderness of pear trees, the Scionsof a notable ancestor w hich , tradition says, the a foresa id Garret planted with his ow n hand .

The country a round St . Mary’s bore . at the period I havedesign ated, the same broad traces of settlement and cultivat ion


291 6 SOUTHERN L ITERATURE

CONFESSIONS OF AN OFFICE HOLDER

From ‘At Home a nd Abroad.’

I W ISH it to be observed tha t, being a timid and cautiousman ,

w ith a w i fe and five sma ll and helpless ch i ldren ,I never

w as decidedly for e ither Adams or Jackson , but measurablyin favor of both . And here w as the Sta te of Ma ryland equa llysplit betw een the t w o ; and fierce as dragons on both Sides.

Now the vex ation of my case w as this, tha t i t w as not onlyrequired of me to be , but un iversa lly bel ieved that I w as as

fierce as the rest . It belonged to my offi ce to be so. W hatright had a man,

w ho w as serving the people ,to be prudent and

reflecting and sensible ? God know s ! I w as w i l l ing to be as

ferocious as they could have w ished,i f I could only have

foreseen w here things would set t le dow n . I had a frightfulpresentiment tha t the offi ces herea fter w ould be confined tothe diabolica l “good men and true ,

”but on w ha t side , it puz

z led me to tell . Ma ryland had been last year aga inst t he oldGenera l , and it w as a deep speculation to fi nd out how manyturncoats there w ould be on t he first Monday of October. Inever w as so d ist racted in Op in ion ,

and ye t I w as obliged tobe as decided as i f I knew a l l about it . I w atched the betsbut fools w i l l bet on any th ing. I understand react ion prettyw ell—w e had ex perience enough in that last year—but I confess I could form no i dea w here it w ould hi t th is time : Ha rryClay’s d inners m ight or m igh t not w ork miracles, and feed t hehungry in Ma ry land , as w e l l as in Kentucky ; but I felt considerab le doub t . Besides Ma ry land never fights w i th much heartaga inst the Genera l Government . Our people are sensible,and have objections, like my sel f, to minorit ies. Then the

new spapers ! Ferd inand Mende z Pinto w as gospel to them :

it w as l ike ch ildren bui ld ing w i th ca rds, one pa rty set everything “

erect, and the other la id every th ing prostrate . Inever had such d iffi culty to mak e up my mind in my li fe . Yet ,

notw ithstanding, a l l this t ime I w as obl iged to be thoroughgoing on both sides, and give t he people t he w orth of the irmoney. There w as a kind of horror, among t he belligerents,of a l l neutra ls. I n media tut iss imus, w as mere nonsense—youmight as w ell stand w ith one foot on the cross of St . Paul’s.

JOHN PENDLETON KENNEDY 291 7

Moderation ,w hich w as once a virtue in a man w ith a w i fe and

fi ve sma ll and helpless chi ldren ,w as clean out of fashion .

Wha t sign ifies it that Z eno has sa id,

“ Seek the Golden meanand Socrates

,

“ Suit your action to the times and Con fucius,“ Stand in the middle

,nor bend to e ither side or tha t S t .

Paul advises, Be a l l things to a l l men or that Eucli d demonst ra t es tha t t he means are equa l to the ex tremes ; or tha tSuva rof commands,

“

Duck your head to a cannon ba ll ; or

that t he celebra ted V icar of Bray supported seven admin istrations ! Al l this philosophy is dust in the ba lance w hen a legionof good men and true w ant the ph i losopher

’s offi ce . Some

idea may be formed of my perplex ities w hen it is consideredthat I w as, strictly, a good and true man , on both sides—and

yet , w hat so Opposite in na ture ? I consulted w ith a few con

fi dent ia l friends w ho w ere as un fort unate as mysel f , and w e

gradua lly began to form a little club and exchange Opinions.

What a miserable set of w retches w e w ere ! Our society tookin t he holders of offi ce , and t he moderate editors, and w e

cheered each other up during the ravings of the storm . The

editors made out better than w e poor devi l s—they determinedto prin t nothing, on either side , un less pa id for it as an adver

t isemen t , or i f they d id venture into the field a t a l l , to keepa runn ing posted account, of debit and credit , for both sides ;one column of “Table Ora tor,

”and another of the “Battle of

the Penny Posts”—Amos Kenda ll Cr. ,Toby Watkins Dr.

and, in th is w ay ,i t w ould have posed a Philadelphia law yer to

make any thing out of them. But our case w as horrible . A

mistake in mathematics, or metaphysics, or in any matter ofopin ion , ex cept in pol itics, is mere moonshine : but in our luckless vocat ion , t he sl ightest straying out of tha t inscrutable

path, w h ich t he w re tched trave l ler can only keep in by chance ,

takes the very meat out of his pot , and consign s him and h is“

helpless progeny to t he charity of the good men and truefrom w h ich, St . Nicholas del iver us ! I never ventured abroadw ithout encountering t he d isma l memoria ls of these mistakes.

At every corner I could hear of some “ good man and true”

w ho had w asted h is breath and subst ance in h is z ea l to ret a inh is offi ce , exp ia t ing h is rashness in retirement ; they w ere likestranded sharks, floundering on t he sand and Show ing theirharmless teeth . The w reck of an offi ce - holding world w as


a round me—Styx and Avernus, w ith their ghosts, could not

have frightened me more . It w ould be my very case, i f Iwere found out . I dreamed of these skeletons a t night

, and

grew nervous with them a l l day .

I fancied that I saw , in every man I met , an aspirant a ftermy offi ce . My servants and compan ions were converted, inimagination, into spies ; there w ere mines and torpedoes beneath my feet . I f I read the papers, it w as only to look at

the advertisements, lest some stander - by Should be watchingmy countenance to gather my Opin ion of the admin istration .

I became suspic lous and equivocating on t he most ha rmlesssubject of conversa tion . In another year, I am sure I sha llbe fit for the stage, so successful have I been in my late performances. A rampant politician would sometimes sei z e uponme to cheer me with our successful prospects. I would brighten up, smile, and say w ith an admirable Sign ificance of manner,“

Let us a lone, my dear fellow , for contriving the thing.

”

And I would say ex actly the same thing, with the same suc

cess, to a teasing decla imer on t he other side. Specia l commi t t ees w ere my abhorrence—of course I never a ttended them—a public ofl‘i cer ought not to be expected to take an open

part . But the pa in of th is continua l w atchfulness—and worsethan that

, the perpetua l fea r that tw o an tagonists might , perchance, meet and fi nd tha t they were confident ia l friends ofmine—or, that I might , in some incautious moment, take a bott le too much, and rea li z e the dreadful proverb, in vino veri tas ;or that some vi le conjunction might fa ll in my horoscope,tha t should commit me, by circumstances. Never did mandrag a more miserable cha in . On the day of the electionI w as sore beset ; a t first I thought of having a letter w rittento me, in form ing me that my grandmother, or aunt , or cousinw as despera tely ill, and summon ing me instantly out of town ;aga in ,

it occurred to me to be ill mysel f . But the truth w as,

I w as in tha t nervous and restless state that I could neitherrema in in my house nor leave tow n ; a spell seemed to bethrow n over me . Just in th is cond ition of mind , a rantipolewhip and Spur Jacksonian burst into my room . I w ould as

lief have seen the hangman . H e came to take me to the polls ;it w as equiva lent to being caught in the manour, to be seen

going to the polls w ith him. Poh , come a long—not sick



‘

a fra id i f this state of things is to last , neither Sw a im’s Pan

acca nor Judkin ’s Ointment can save me . Such is the im

measurable vex ation of hold ing an offi ce,w ith a wife and fi ve

sma ll and helpless children ,in these days w hen Reform flour

ishes like a pest i lence .

October 3, 1 829. Z ACHARIAH WINTERBOTTOM .

TRIAL BY VI EW

From ‘Swa llow Barn .

’

VARIOUS other papers were now produced and read ; andwhen a l l this documentary evidence had been brought to view,

Philly rema rked , w ith a manner that seemed to ind ica te profound reflection upon the case in hand :

“An idea strikes me , w h ich appea rs to have an important

influence upon t he subject under consideration . I con fess IShould l ike to be sa t isfied upon th is point . Mr. Swansdownand mysel f, I presume , w i ll not d iffer about t he constructionof t he deed ,

nor upon the na ture of t he l aw by w hich it is tobe determined

,

”he added

,smi l ing ;

“

but , i f my present suspicions be confirmed ,

it is more than probable that our laborw i l l be very much abridged . I rather suspect tha t this casew i ll be found , upon ex amina t ion , to turn upon certa in ma ttersof fact w hich have never yet been brought into t he view oft he courts.

”

“

A very shrew d Old gentleman tha t , Mr. Ha z a rd, w h is

pered the tutor, w ho stood by a l l this t ime listen ing w i th profound a tt ent ion ;

“

a man of gen ius, I assure you, Mr. Ed

wa rd !“

The facts to w hich I a llude are these ; namely, in the firstplace, to w hat dist ance did t he mill - dam anciently and origina l ly e xt end

,from t he present ma rgin of the Apple -

pie, in

upon t he l and belonging to the tract ca lled The Brakes ? Sec

ond ly , how long did t he mill - pond exist within t he sa id origina l l im i t s ; and w hen d id it first begin to recede from the

same ? And,th irdly, w h ich is t he most important point of a l l ,

d id t he same mill - pond cont ra ct in i t s d imensions by gradua land imperceptible stages, or d id i t sink into the present narrow


channel of the Apple -

p ie , by any violent and sudden disruptionof i t s banks ?

“

The bearing and va lue of these questions, continued thelaw yer,

“

w i ll be understood by referring to t he conceded fact ,namely , that the t w o contiguous estates w ere divided by t hew a ter - line or margin of t he m i ll - dam on t he Side of ThBrakes. Now , it is a principle of law , upon w hich Mr. Sw ansdow n and mysel f cannot possibly disagree—for i t is assert ed

w ithout cont rad ict ion by t he ablest w riters—both in the com

mon and civ i l l aw , Mr. Sw ansdow n,tha t w here a river, hold

ing the relat ion w hich this mill - dam occup ied betw een t hese

tw o esta tes, changes i t s course by slow and invisible mut ations,so as to leave new land w here formerly w as w ater, then heto whose territory the accretions may be made in such w ise ,

Sha ll hold them as the ga in or increment of h is origina l stock .

But i f the river change i t s course by some forcible impulseof na ture, as by violent floods, or t he l ike , then sha ll he w ho

suffers loss by such vicissitude , be indemn ified by the possession of the derelict channel . And it w ould seem to me , tha t incase the river, in t he instance put , should merely dw indle and

pine away, as t h is famous mill - pond seems to have done ,”

sa id Ph i lly, w i th a smi le ,“ then

, the possessors of the bankson either Side should consider i t to be the w ill of Heaven tha tthey Should be separa ted by narrow er partit ions, and should,stra ightw ay, follow t he ret rea t ing w a ters ; and , w hen these become so sma ll as to a l low them to do SO

,they should Shake

hands from t he opposi t e banks, and thank God they w ere suchnear ne ighbors

“He

’s a man '

of a clea r head ,Mr. Riggs, sa id the tutor

aga in ,with increased adm irat ion ,

“

and ex pounds l aw like a

sage—and w ith a great dea l of w i t too ! He reminds me ofthe celebra ted Mr. Ponsonby w hom I once heard a t t he FourCourts, in a cause

“ I am entirely of Mr. Wart’s Opin ion of the va lue of theseconsiderations,

”sa id Sw ansdow n .

“They seem to me sagacious and reasonable , sa id Mr.

Tracy,“and concur to strengthen the first view s which I took

upon this subject . ”“Le t these facts then,

gentlemen , be inquired into, sa idMeriwether.


Wa rt a rose from his seat , and walking ca relessly a shortdistance from the group, beckoned Meriwet her to follow h im,

and , when they were together, sa id“

I have throw n out enough to put Mr. Tracy upon a new

scent , w hich , i f it be well followed up, w ill answ er our purpose ; and now , I think I w ill give our friend Sw ansdown a

wa lk into the ma rsh .

”

Since it is agreed , Mr. Sw ansdown , sa id Ph illy, returning to the party,

“ tha t testimony Should be hea rd upon the

questions I have proposed , w e Sha ll be able to form a bett erjudgment by a cautious survey of the ground ourselves. It issca rcely possible tha t the mill - pond should have van ishedwithout leaving some traces to show w hether it went off in a

night,or w asted aw ay, like a chestnut fence - ra il under the uni

t ed a tt acks of sun and wind . There is nothing like the Trialby V iew .

”

“

In wha t manner do you propose, Mr. Wa rt, to enjoythis view ?” asked Sw ansdow n ,

with some concern .

“

Can w e

see it from the hi l l - Side ? for it seems ra ther haz a rdous for a

passage on horseback.

”

“By w a lking over it , replied Phi l ly very coolly. W itha little circumspection w e can get across tolerably dry. Leapfrom one tuft to another, and keep your ba lance. The th ingis very easy.

“

W e sha ll fi nd brambles in our w ay , sa id the reluctantSwansdow n.

“E squi l la non nosci tur rosa

,Mr. Sw andow n , replied the

other. “ It is not the first t ime I have explored a ma rsh . Whyman ,

i f you had your gun w ith you, the w oodcock w ould take

you tw ice through the thickest of it ! This is a notorious placefor w oodcock

“There are snakes, and some of them of a dangerousspecies. I have an utter horror of snakes,

”

persisted Sw ansdow n .

“There are some copperheads and a few moccasins, re

plied Philly,“

w hose bite is not a l together ha rml ess. As to the

black snake, and viper, and common w a ter snake, you may as

sure yoursel f w ith taking them in your hand . Or take St .Pa trick’s plan, Mr. Swansdow n ; cut a ha z el rod, and i f you



follow ed by a distant hum of conversa tion ,show ed us that

t he tw o w anderers had fa llen aga in into company.

Whilst w e sa t amongst t he w i llow s tha t skirted the origi na lma rgin of the dam , expecting to see the counsellor and h is

compan ion emerge from the thicket on the opposite Side,our

a tten tion w as a l l a t once aroused by the deep tongue of \Vart’s

hounds, w ho had been exploring the fastness cont emporane

ouS ly w ith the ir ma ster. They had evidently turned out a

fox ; and t he rap idly retreating and advancing notes in formedus of the fact tha t t he object of thei r pursuit w as doubling,w ith great activity, from one pa rt of t he sw amp to another.This sudden outbreak threw a surprising exhilarat ion into ourpa rty.

W e sprang to our feet and ran from place to place, expect ing every moment to see t he fox appear upon the field :these movements w ere accompan ied with a genera l ha llooingand shouting, in w hich t he voice of Philly Wa rt , amongst t herecesses of t he ma rsh, w as d istinctly audible . Rip, a t t he firstnote , had run to h is horse , and now came ga lloping past us,ha l f w ild w ith delight . Mr. Chubb w as in a perfect ecstasy,jumping, fl inging out his a rms and voci fera t ing a l l t he techn ica l cries of encouragement usua l amongst t he vota ries ofthe chase . Even ol d Mr. Tracy w as roused by the vivacity ofthe scene . H is eyes sparkled and his gestures became peenl iarly an imated . Al l the dogs of our tra in had taken into thesw amp, and ba rked w ith a dea fen ing clamor a s they pursuedt he track of t he hounds, w hose strong musica l notes w ere now

fast dying aw ay in d istance,as these eager an ima ls pursued

thei r prey d irectly up t he stream for more than a mile . For

a t ime , they w ere even lost to t he ear, unt i l , having madeanother double , they w ere hea rd retracing the ir steps, and

coming back to their origina l sta rting po int , a s thei r short andsonorous notes crow ded upon t he car w ith increasing d ist inct ness .

At length, the little an ima l , tha t had given rise to a l l th is

uproa r, w as descried on the opposite S ide of t he sw amp ,some d istance ahead of her pursuers, speed ing w ith terrifichast e to a hole in the bank, where she w as observed sa fely toaccomplish her re t rea t .

The durat ion of this ep isode w a s not above ha l f an hour ;


and for the grea ter portion of that period w e had tota lly losta l l intelligence of Wa rt and Sw ansdow n

, but were now greatlyamused to perceive t he ol d law yer breaking out of the cover,immedia tely a t the spot where the fox had taken to t he earth .

And there he stood , gua rding the place aga inst the invasionof the dogs, w ho seemed to be frantic w ith disappointment a tnot be ing permitted to enter this entrenchment of their enemy .

By whipping, ha l looing, and scold ing, Ph i lly succeeded in

drawing them aw ay ; and now , for the first time during thisinterva l , turned h is a ttention to the fate of h is comrade .

Sw ansdow n w as no w here to be seen. Wa rt ca lled a loud sev

era l t imes w ithout receiving an answ er and a t length the pa rtyon our side, a lso, began to voci ferate t he name of the lostgentleman. This w as no sooner done than w e w ere surprisedto rece ive an answ er from the midst of the bushes, within t enpa ces of the spot w here w e stood . I n one instant a fterwa rds,Mr. Sw ansdow n reappeared, a lmost ex actly at the point w herehe had first entered the Sw amp . H is plight w as sadly changed .

A thick coa t of black mud covered t he low er extremities ofhis panta loons, and h is dress, in places, w as torn by briars ;but as i f glad to be ex trica ted from h is perils

, on any terms,he came forth w ith a face of good humor, and readily joinedus in the laugh tha t h is strangely d iscomfi t ed exterior excited.

“Well,”he rema rked,

“ to grati fy Mr. Wart , I have seen

the Apple -

pie ; and I can truly say tha t I have enjoyed more

pleasure in my l i fe, a t less cost . A fi ne figure I make of it l”

he excla imed, pointing to h is clothes. W e had no soonerreached wha t Mr. Wart ca lled the bank of the rivulet, thanthose w helps of dogs set up such a hideous yell ing as turnedmy excellent friend, the counsellor, cra z y upon the Spot ; andthereupon he set Off a t full speed, like an ol d hound himsel f,leaving me to flounder back or forw a rd as best I might . Isca rcely know w ha t course I took, and w hen I thought I hadrea ched the other side, it seems I had arrived just w here Istarted . I can ’t say I think as highly of Mr. Wa rt’s tria l bythe view , as he does !W e gave the un fortunate gentleman a l l the consolation his

case admitted of ; and return ing to t he ruins of the mill, theretook our seats to awa it the return of Mr. Wa rt . It w as not

long before he appea red, followed by the tw o dogs. He had


crossed from the Side on which w e le ft him, as litt le concernedas i f he had been w a lking on t he fi rmest ground, and joinedour company , more in the guise of an experienced w oodmanthan of a gentleman of the lea rned profession intent upondisentangling points of law .

It may well be supposed that t he labors of the day termina t ed a t this point . Our sp i rits had been too much rousedby the events of the morn ing to a llow us to si t down aga into t he business of t he law suit ; and the uncomfortable con

dition of Sw ansdown made it necessa ry that he should, as

soon as possible, be a llow ed an opportuni ty to change h is dress.

It w as therefore intima ted by Mr. Wa rt, tha t t he question of

the bounda ry line should be adjourned until the nex t morn ing,w hen he remarked , he thought he should be able to give test imony himsel f tha t would be materia l to the case.

I n accordance w ith this intimation, it w as a rranged tha tthe part ies should convene t he next morn ing a t The Brakes ;and having determined upon this, old Mr. Tracy and Sw ansdown mounted their horses and pursued their road to the

mansion house a t The Brakes,which w as not above tw o miles

distant .The rest of the party returned to Sw a llow Ba rn .



human l i fe w hen nature is uppermost. They are w ri tt en , how ever,for people w ho demand these qua l i ti es of fict ion .

These a ssert ion s may sound somew hat broad to those w ho havenot read the best of t he stories. I t is such a poss ibi l ity as thi s tha tmakes t he ta sk of t he critica l m iddleman difli cul t . About t he onlyservice one can perform in such a case is to t ry to show w ha t thew riter has a imed to do and t he mot ive beh ind t he w ri ting.

Roughly speaking, then , and to form a means of compa ri son ,so

as to range M i ss King’s w ork into some fami l iar cla ss, w e may takecount of a few of t he incentives w hich offer a less artificia l class ifi ca t ion of fiction .

One w ri ter’s inten tion is to con struct a story w hose interest issolely in i t s incidents. H e must use such incidents as might conce ivab l y happen in human l i fe to human beings, but he casts thema long art ificia l l ines w h ich ex perience ha s show n to be in fa ll ibly successful w i th tha t part of the publ ic w h ich reads to ki ll time. Mostof th i s class produce those “ snappy stories of love and adventure,w ith happy end ings” w hich the new spaper synd ica tes demand of theirhacks in these very w ords for the da i ly market. Other w ri ters a ttempt to transcribe l i fe l i tera l ly and w i thout change. Another cla ss,composed apparen t ly of lyric poets w ho have issed their voca tion,

use the ir stori es merely a s the means of ex press ing their ow n emot ions. To yet others, fi ct ion’

s only ex cuse for ex i stence is to servea s a parable, a sugar- coated p i ll of mora l i ty, or an i llustra tion ofsome socia l theory.

I t seems to me tha t w riters w ho are draw n to their w ork bysuch motives as any of these mi ss the un ique Opportun i ty w hichtheir Specia l art offers . The one qua l ity of the art of prose fictionw hich i t possesses more fully than any other art is i t s pow er to portray human l i fe as i t rea lly is, tak ing count equa l ly of i t s deepermean ings and i t s superfi cia l i t ies. I n i t s other qua l i t ies of p icturemak ing, emot iona l expressiveness, and d idactic pow er, fict ion is forcedto compete , a t a d isadvantage, w i th pa int ing, poetry, music, and sci

en t ifi c study. The most impress ive ma sters of th i s art , therefore,have been those w hose ex perience of human l i fe, know ledge of humancharacter, keenness of observa tion , sympa thy w i th human j oy and

pa in , and pow er of truth ful and mov ing ex press ion enable them toi l luminate and interpret pha ses of l i fe w h ich have mean ing to a l l

men and w omen w ho are engaged in t he somew ha t common but usua lly un intell igent business of l iving. The understand ing of as much as

possible of this puz z l ing ex i stence of ours is a necessity to think ingpeople . Hard as i t is to guess, even vaguely, w e a l l feel tha t therei s a plot fraught w i th mean ing underlying the comedy of l iving,and even in the l i ttle parts for w h ich w e ourselves are ca st . The

GRACE EL IZABETH KING 2929

master of fiction is he w ho recogn i z es, and makes the rest of ussee, those phases of l i fe in w h ich he th inks he has caught a h intof tha t mean ing w h ich w e feel dimly to l ie behind the mystery ofcommon th ings.Such is the a im of w ri ters as diverse as Ba l z ac and De Maupa s

sant, Meredi th and Gorki , Tourgénev and Thackeray. When I saynow tha t t he stories of Mi ss Grace King are w ritten in th i s Sp iri t ,I feel tha t a better i dea of w ha t they are and w hat they a im to be isconveyed to one w ho has not read them than w ould be by any amountof cri ti ca l d i scussion of the stories themselves.At any ra te, one meri t w i ll scarcely be den ied her w ork. She

has given t he most sympa thet ic and int ima te portraya l o f t h e ha l fFrench , ha l f Engl i sh l i fe of Southern Louis iana . The stories ofMr. George Cable have perhaps a ttracted a w ider notice

,because

they gave t he unfam i l iar reader more of the p icture w hich his ow nfancy or prejudice had l ed h im to ex pect ; but Mr. Cable v iew s hischaracters and their l i fe from a temperamenta lly unsympathetic isola tion , and portrays them usua lly through the ex tremes of sentimentor caricature . M i ss King

,on the contrary, has been fitted by tem

peramen t and tra in ing to'

underst and her people.She w as born in New Orleans, and rece ived tha t b i - l ingua l and

b i - racia l tra in ing in t he French schools of the place w h ich w as the

rule w i th girls of her station in l i fe. With the ex cept ion of the usua ltravels, and a temporary res i dence in Europe of tw o years or more ,the l i fe of New Orleans and Southern Loui siana ha s been hers ; forher fa ther, W i ll iam M . King, one of the leading law yers of thecity, had the ambit ion ,

not a lw ays fortun a te, of most w ell - to - do l aw

yers of his day to be a suga r-

planter ; and the earl iest days of hisdaughter’s ch ildhood w ere passed on the plan ta t ion,w h i le the ci tyw as in the hands of the Federa l army a fter i t s surrender to Farragut .Under her fa ther’s guidance her reading w as broad, and the ri ch

h i story of her Sta te and the h i stori c era under w hich she grew tow omanhood l ed her natura lly to the w rit ing of h i story, as her ow n

l i fe and the stories she saw enacted around her .during t he break ingup of the old order of l iving l ed her to the w rit ing of fict ion . Her

account of t he S ieur de B ienvi lle, and the first settlement of t he Gul fCoast and the M i ss issipp i Va lley, w as the d irect result o f a j ourneyto France and researches in uncollated records of the D epartment ofthe Marine. This book w as t he first rea lly thorough relat ion of th i sromant ic epi sode of American h i story . Besides this w ork , and nu

merous papers and art icles for t he maga z ines and the Loui siana H istorica l Soci ety, she has given , in her

‘

New Orleans, the Pla ce and thePeople,’ the most vivid portraya l of w ha t m ight be ca lled the per

sona l ity of the old ci ty. I t is someth ing more than a history, for i t


adds to the h ist oria n’

s fide l i ty to fact the novel ist'

s sense of l i fe and

th e poet’s fee l ing for roma nce.

Her first print ed w ork w as a novel, “Mon si eur Mot t e,’

pub l ished

in the New Pri nceton R eview in 1 886. I t a tt ra ct ed inst ant a t t en t im

in th is coun t ry and in England a nd France, and ca ugh t t he fancy as a

fres h pi cture of a pass ing ci vi l i z a t ion. I t w as fol low ed by anot her

nove l, Ea rt hl ing ,

’

publ ished in L ippincot t’

s Magas ine , but never re~

issued in book form .

These a re her on l y publ ished novels, but the ma ny short st ori esw h i ch ha ve appea red over her name in H a rper

'

s and The Cen tury ,

and in t he tw o volumes en ti t l ed ‘Bal cony S t ori es '

and“Ta l es of a

T ime and Pl a ce,’ represent he r a rt a t i t s ma t uri ty and seem to be t he

form most congen ia l to her temp e ramen t . I n subject these st ori esdo not cover a w ide range , but ea ch in i t se l f is a fundamen ta l studyof chara ct er and a vivid record of i ncid en t . Some a re sk etches ofisola t ed person a l i ties , as for instan ce t he ma st erly l i tt le study of“ Pupa sse

”; but most of them a re connect ed, a t lea st in the genera l

sense of bearing upon one or t he ot her of tw o themes w hi ch ha vedomina ted her w ork—the pa ssing of t he old a ri stocracy of feuda l isminto the commercia li sm of t he presen t, and t he struggle of t he w omenfolk since t he w ar t o meet t he d ire need s of an inconceivably changedex isten ce. Certa in stories of t h i s t ime have been w ri tten by otherw ri t ers of t he Sout h ,

but, too often , e ither from the v iew point o fre t rospect ive sen t imen t or of romance dressed to su it the preconceivedidea s of t he buyers of fi ct ion. The vast tragedy ,

t he human mean ing,

the pa thet ic humor of t he struggle to adapt t he instinct s and idea l sof an order of l i fe w hich the relen t less progress of evolut ion had

rej ected to sord id cond it ion s of poverty and a l i en oppression ,have

never been so truly and sympa thet ica lly p ictured as in these li ttl estud ies of persona l i t ies left l ike b i t s of w reckage from t he ca taclysma lcollapse of a w hole soc ia l system. The full mean ing, in i t s largesen se

,of th i s sw eep ing aw ay of the founda t ion of a great heredi

ta ry cla ss seems not to have struck other w ri ters of fict ion w ho havedea l t w i th the same period and people ; nor have t he presen t l i feprobl ems of the new genera t ion been traced back in fiction to thei rroots in t he soc ia l upheava l . We have not fa i led to see the va stnessof the s im i lar theme in Russ ian fict ion ,

w h ich p ictures the l ibera t ionof the serfs and t he uproot ing of so many of t he old landed gentry ;but w e have not seen the same s ign ificance in the story of our ow n

land, and only one w riter ha s att empt ed such an interpretat ion a s

Tourgénev, say , has given of h is land and p eOp l e .

No h igher pra i se or more sa t isfactory descript ion of those ofM i ss K ing

's stori es w h ich dea l w i th th is theme could be given thanto say tha t they are w orthy of being set bes ide those of Tourgénev.


MAKING PROC RIS

“241m m ; rap idly a long upon some quest of moment a ryimport a nce tha t absorbed my L augh : and dul led observa t ion

,

I w as sudden ly st opped by a crow d on the si dew a lk in front of

me ; a compa ct . eager. curious crow d . rm: t o be threaded , and

usi ng i ts elbow s viciousl y aga ins t fuming No w onder ! A

ca rt of t he Li t t le Sist ers of t he Ptv r St eed backed up agai nstt he curbing . and four men w ere just in t he act of pushing a

st ret cher in t o i t . To see such a sigh t w a s w el l w ort h t he w hi le

of a w hole ne ighborhood of sh opkeepers . for I w as in t he thick

es t shopkeep ing quart er of t he ci t y . Pract ica l l y speak ing, t herew as very li t t le to be seen : a sl igh t form covered bv a shee t

,and

the outli ne of a head on a low pi l low . Eve ry precaution had , asusua l . been t aken to ensure w a cealmen t . t he only priva cy possible. But as t he st re t cher sl id into t he w ag on a murmur passedt hrough t he crow d . an involun t a ry sh ixe r. The w oman upont he St ret cher slow lv ra ised her head . opened her ey es . and gavea look upon t he ga z ers. a look ! w oe ! w oe !

The horses jerked forw ard : the head fel l ba ck ; the ca rtra ttled aw av.

I felt mv e lbow plucked ,t hen grasped . and st i ll looking

a ft er t he ca rt . w i t h t he rest of t he crow d . I w as forciblydragged in to a door wa y . I t w as m y friend Madame Jacob,t he second - hand dea ler. w ho had hold of me . and I perce ivednow tha t i t w a s her Shop tha t had furn ished t he ex citementto the street . I t a lw ays seemed to be furni shing an ex citement to the street . I never pa ssed a long there w ithout noticinga turmo i l : Madame Jacob putt ing her a ssistant , her nephew ,

out upon the banquet w i th cuffs and ha rder w ords,or hauling

her husband in from a drink ing- Shop . or ra i ling aga inst a

cautious customer , or assault ing t he four corners of t he heavens with voluble French ,

Engl ish . and Ge rman declama tionsupon some other misadventure . It w as shrew dly suspected bysome, and I believed it , tha t Madame Jacob used her noise and

excitement a s an auctioneer’s drum, to ca ll a crow d together,(1 so get a t people . One could not help sla cking one’s pa ce

GRACE EL I Z ABETH KING 2933

to listen to her, nor, w h i le one listened , glancing into her shop,and every glance of mine into that my sterious interior had, asI ca lculated it , cost me fifty cents. Others, of course, couldget off cheaper, but they w ere not a fter bric - a- brac, or, to bemore specific, old cut glass.

My eye hastil y glanced around now , taking in t he prospectof a ba rga in , as I w as sti l l pulled forw ard through the pi ledup junk to a little recess behind t he shop ,

t he land ing -

place ofthe sta irs, w here I w a s thrust into a cha i r. Madame Jacobsqua tted on a low stool in the doorway , w hence she could domina t e her business and w a tch her nephew ; and w henever shesaw a customer edging aw ay w ithout buy ing anyt hing, she

w ould rush a t t he boy, box his ears, sell something, and comeback to her stool, and her story, be fore the interruption w as

noticed .

Of course she w anted to tell me the story of the girl justca rried aw ay to the L itt le S isters of the Poor : t he young girl ,she ca lled her, a lthough tha t gray - ha ired , ashen - faced headcould by no means be ca lled young, ex cept in t he sense of unma rried .

The story a fter a l l is not much, perhaps ha rdly w orth wri

t ing dow n ; but w hen it comes to that , w ha t true stories are

w orth w riting down ? They are like na tura l flow ers in com

pa rison w ith t he art ifi cia l—good only for the day ,not for

permanent show . The girl’s name w as Acha rd,Volsy Acha rd .

When Madame Jacob first rented her shOp , some thirty yea rsbe fore , t he Achard fam i ly w ere l iving in the rooms above ;they ow ned the building, rented the dow nsta irs, and reta inedt he upsta irs—t w o rooms, a large one , and a sma ll one adjoining. Madame Achard and Vol sy slept in the large room.

Paul, t he boy ,in t he sma ll one .

The family had been well - todo shopkeepers in that veryhouse and in tha t very business. Madame Jacob intimated,for W i th a curious del icacy she w ould not say it outright , thatAcha rd made h is start w ith a sack over h is back and a broomhandle w ith a crooked na i l a t the end of it . At any ra te ,

w henhe died and Madame Acha rd became t he head of the family,and sold h is business and collected a l l h is profits together, shefound that she had enough to invest in two houses—that oneand the one next to i t—w hich she rented at , in a round sum,


fi fty dollars a month apiece. And so, as Madame Jacob sa id,w e see them, rich enough for anybody, with t he boy going tothe public school , the little girl to the day school of the convent .The family could not have been any more comfortable anywhere, nor happier ; close to t he market , under t he very sp ireof the Ca thedra l, and w ith t he opera - house a t t he end of theirfoot , so to speak . The little daughter, Volsy ,

“

w as so good, sogood and Paul , he w as

‘

sma rt ,’ ‘

sma rt . ’ Therew as no American in his school w ho w as sma rter than he—toquote Madame Jacob’s ow n words. The mother adored herson ; the daughter w as devoted to t he mother. When Paul le ftschool

,he sa id

‘

he w ould be a law yer, that and noth ing else .

Every day t he boy w ould go to h is law study , and everyday Volsy and hermother w ould si t together and sew and ta lk,and watch the soup simmering on the furnace . They w ent agrea t dea l to church, and Vol sy had a pa rticular devot ion tothe In fant Jesus ; the mother w i th the I n fant , or the In fanta lone , w as a l l she ca red to have on her little a lta r, and her p icture ca rds ; never t he V irgin a lone , or any of t he sa ints. Paulread l aw in the offi ce of a low - born but very w ell know n l aw

yer—one w ho had a grea t practice in the shopkeeping class.

When Paul w as admitted to the bar, this same law yer gavehim a desk in h is office . This w as a great advance for Paul,in one w ay , a lthough in another, as t he young man w as goodlooking, w ell - mannered, spoke French and English , and w as, in

short, more than usua lly intell igent , he w as not a bad investment of t he sort tha t older law yers are ever on the a lert tomake from among t he younger ones. Many a young lawyer, so

picked up , has been know n in t he course of t ime to ca rry an

ol d pa tron on his shoulders and sea t him on the bench of theSupreme Court for the reversion of h is business, and ma rryingh is daughter to boot . Going ahead means, necessa rily , leavingbehind , and Paul

’s advance caused the l ittle family of three to

change i t s rank. It d id not,as of yore , ma rch three abreast .

Paul stepped on in front ; the tw o women came together a fter him .

Paul dressed better and better, and associating with lawyersand imita ting them,

he, in the course of a few yea rs, w as not tobe distinguished from any gentleman among them. This w ast he radiant time of li fe for h is mother and sister. They ta lked



coming—in truth, they did not mind it any more than they didthe sun

’s not shining on a cloudy day . Serenely they awa it ed

Paul'

s nex t advancement . It came, and even they had not ex

pect ed so handsome an answer to their prayers. Paul an

nounced tha t he w as engaged to be ma rried , and not to a no

body, but to the daughter of h is pa tron. They—Madame

Jacob, the mother, the sister—d id not even know the ol d law y erhad a daughter ! Judge w ha t a miracle it w as to them !A young lady w ho lived in t he rich Ameri can qua rter‘! of thecity, w ho w ent into the fi ne society up there , and ga ve enterta inment s tha t t he new spapers described . It w as astound ing !And then there w as inaugura ted in that upsta irs room a boomof indust ry and enterprise and

“making of economies,” to fum

ish Paul’s wedd ing -

present . Table and bed linen, silken and

lace coverlets, curta ins, cut glass. The second - hand dea ler didher pa rt in ferreting out ba rga ins—and indeed some of her

triumphs in tha t line w ere w ell w orth t he pride she took in t e

counting them. And this, in Madame Jacob’s opin ion , w as the

greatest pleasure Paul ever gave his family in h is li fe—the opportun i t y of complete devotion and sel f - sacrifi ce ; they coul dhave kept it up forever and never know n otherwise but tha tthey w ere in parad ise .

Paul never brought h is bride to see h is family, never tookh is family to see h is bride . The young lady w ent aw ay, and t hemarriage took place in the North, so of course the mother andsister could not be a t t he w edd ing. W hen t he young couple re

turned , i t w as arranged that Paul w ould be met by the motherand sister. Paul w as to take them on a Sunday. It w as a

mon t h a fter h is return before Paul found t he right Sunday .

Then he came for them. Madame Jacob w atched them depart ,and counted the momen t s un t i l they returned, w henShe did not recogn i z e t he mother ! Head up i n the

a ir, eyes sh in ing, cheeks glow ing, and tongue—ta lkinga t both ends. The fi ne house ! The servant - man ! The grandmadame ! H er elegant dress, and her elegant ma nners ! L ikea queen , yes like a queen in the opera !

I n h is mother’s eyes, Paul had risen so high, by h is marriage that , as Madame Jacob sa id , he w as to her like the picture

‘ New Orleans is d ivided in to up t own and down town—t he new . or Arnerican

qua rt er, and t he old, or French qua rt er.


of the Saviour in the t ransfigura t ion . Vol sy had nothing tosay ; she w ent quietly upsta irs.

Shortly a fter this there w as another boom of energy and

industry in t he room upsta irs, another furious making of economies. L aces and l inens, p iques and flannel s. Madame Achard shopped from morning t i ll night ; Vol sy never le ft hersea t a t the w indow ,

but sew ed and embroidered , sew ed and

embroidered from daylight t i l l dark, and sew ed and embroid

ered on a fter tha t by lamp - light . Oh , no ! The mother’s eyes

w ere not good enough for this w ork . Vol sy’s even w ere not

good enough, nor her hands, for Madame Jacob never heardthe mother say now , as she used to , tha t Vol sy had the eyes andhands to embroider for t he sa ints in heaven—and MadameJacob seemed to hea r every th ing that w as sa id upsta irs. Vol sygrew tired and w orn , but not the mother ; she looked happierand happier. She lived not in a honey - moon , but in honeymoons.

When she became a grandmother she ta lked and laughedand boasted about Paul just t he same as w hen she became a

mother. She d id not have to w a it for Paul now , and she and

Vol sy raced up to the house , laden w ith their bundles, and youmay imagine how w ell they w ere received , bringing so beaut i ful3 present, the layette for a prince.

And now ensued another change in t he ma rching order ofthe fam i ly . It w as no longer abreast, no longer one close behind the other. E ither Madame Achard stepped ahead orVolsy lagged beh ind, with a grow ing space betw een them ; tha tw as the w ay they w ent now . Vol sy a lw ays had an ex cuse not

to go to see her sister - in - law : Madame Acha rd a lw ays had an

ex cuse to go and see her daughter - ia - law . Volsy’s ex cuses cost

nothing, but hermother’s—they cost not on ly money but w ork ;

a lw ays something new and pretty ; a cap or a bib trimmed w ithrea l Va lenciennes, a cloak w ith rea l Cluny, a silk - embroidered

petticoat , dresses tucked to the w a ist , or hem - st itched in inchwide insert ings—a l l made by hand , by t he hand of Vol sy ,working still from morn ing to n ight , and a fter. There w as no

time for cooking—sometimes t he soup simmered in the pot , butsometimes, too,

the fi re in the furnace w ent out , and sta id outas long as Madame Achard d id in the street . The coffee inthe morning w as often the on ly regular mea l tha t Paul and his


baby a l low ed them. And t hen Madame Jacob , w ho saw as

much as she hea rd upst a irs , observed tha t the soup mea t inthe pot began to dimin ish in siz e—from t en cents to fi ve cents ,from fi ve cents to a qua rt ee (ha l f of fi ve cents ) bone, and t hesoup w as sa ved over longer and longer. Not hing w as spent

for clothing, nothing for plea sure or comfort . \Vha t moneydid not go for t he ba re da i ly fa re ,

w ent in pres en ts to tha tbaby

, and a fter a w hi le toy s w ere added to cloth ing, not

chea p ,common toys

, but tovs such a s t he rich America n chi ldren uptow n pl ayed w i t h .

Volsy w as one of those persons tha t no one ever noticespa rticula rly. She w a s neither ta ll nor short , fa t nor thin ,

fa irnor da rk, pretty nor ugly , sad nor gay . But a ft er tw o yea rsof her beaut i ful w ork Madame Jacob d id not ice her one day as

she passed through t he shop on her w ay from church . She w as

ta ll and thin ,da rk and sad , and Madame Ja cob reflected to

hersel f that gi rls become w omen , and w omen become old . And

this reflection of hers made so grea t an impression uponMadame Jacob tha t she kept it not to hersel f, but repeated itto everybody she ta lked to in t he shop for a w eek, and she re

pea t ed it to Madame Acha rd .

“Ay ! ay ! L a ! la ! l a !

” '

\Vha t a song she w as singing !w ithout a w ord of common - sense in i t ! Volsy ! bah ! bah ! And

then Madame Acha rd sta rted off to ta lk about her grandson ,

show ing his photograph .

Now w e may believe it or not , Madame Jacob gives forma l

permission for the a lterna tive—from that day t he mother be

gan to pout aga inst her daughter, to sigh, as MadameJacob expressed it , and to ra ise her eyes to heaven aga inst her.

Why ? Because Volsy did not love her nephew as she should .

In va in the girl protested, in va in she w orked ha rder than ever,in va in she volunteered specia l gi fts of her ow n

,in va in she car

ried them hersel f to the a lta r of her mother’s divin ity . The

mother rema ined firm to her “ t ic , a s the Jacob w oman ca lledit

, and the“

t ie” changed her completely. In not a very long

time she w ould not mention Paul, or h is w i fe , or the baby, tothe girl . She w ithdrew her confidence on this subject fromher ; she took to dece iving her about them . She l et her dono more w ork for the baby : she h id i t s photograph from her ;she made a secret of her visits uptow n , slipping out of the



every time she w en t to see her sist er- ia—law, and brought the

chi ld to sce the gra ndmot her, be took horne w i t h him a piece

of silver, a cry st a l decant er, a p iece of porce la in, a piece of

old la ce t o make your mouth w a t er. Madame Jacob knew , for

she bought t hem a l l , of course , as Volsy left her mot her butfor the one purpose of fet ch ing t he ch i ld and taking him

home aga in . The old ladv did not know any thing. except

tha t the ch i ld came to see her, and tha t w as enough to give

her happiness ; but she fretted a ft er he w as gone . because she

could not go out and buy presents for him ,and so Volsy saw

herse l f obliged to provi de her mother w it h pret t y play t hings,but of t he expensive ki nd ,

for as has been sa i d, Madame Achard w ould have none other. And the i ller she became and the

more despera te her cond ition, the oftener w ould Volsy bringt he ch ild to her, to ease her. But it cost ! It cost ! And thedoct ors had to be pa id too, and medi cine bought, and fi ne wine.

Vol sy w oul d not have had t he money for i t w ithout borrow ing.

One n ight , in t he most unexpect ed manner, Madame Acha rd d ied . A messenger w as sen t for Paul . He came, and ar

ranged for t he funera l ea rly t he next morn ing from t he church.

Volsy came back a l one from the cemetery, and w ent upsta irs w ithout saying a w ord

,to her room

,w hich in her ah

sence Madame Jacob hersel f had put in order. At threeo 'clock Madame Jacob w ent up sta irs to t ake her some d inner.She w as still sitt ing in t he same cha ir, w i t h her bonnet andgloves on. At n ine o’clock she w as st i l l t here . She w ould notea t ; she w ould not ta lk ; she seemed to be th inking, think ing.

Madame Jacob,how ever, forced her to bed ,

in t he little chamber, in Paul

’

s old bed . The nex t morn ing she w as up ea rly anda t w ork, and in a w eek she had accepted t he new routine ofli fe . Perhaps she had t hought it out a s t he best w ay .

t he first of t he month came ,Madame Jacob, be fore any other

business, w ent up sta irs and pa id her rent, as she had donefor over tw enty years.

The money d id not stay in Vol sy’s hand long enough to

wa rm it . In tha t class, dea lers do not send thei r bills delica tely through t he ma i l , they bring them, and stand and wa itunt i l they a re pa id . Some people , like Madame Jacob, whenthey have no money, or w ant to hold on to their money fora w hile , pay with their tongue . But Volsy , though she had

GRACE EL IZABETH KI NG 2941

little money, only her month’s rent , had less tongue. She pa id

and pa id , and borrow ed to pay , borrowing from her very debtors to pay her debts—a transaction that on ly a tongue such asMadame Jacob possessed can properly qua l i fy .

Be fore t he month w as out , Volsy asked Madame Jacob tofi nd lodgers for t he front room . She moved out into one oft he l ittle rooms on the ga l lery—the lodgings of t he “

crasse,”

as

madame described them . And in addit ion she did embroideryand sew ing for pay . So she could look forw a rd to facing t henext first of t he month like an honest w oman . But there w as

no first of the month aga in for her,a t least in rega rd to receiv

ing rent . The mother’s esta te had to be settled . Madame Jacob had forgotten tha t—the Open ing and read ing of the will .When Vol sy came back from her brother’s offi ce , t he day

of this ceremony, she motioned to Madame Jacob to fol low herup sta irs. In brief, and not to dw ell upon a poor girl

’s pa in

and grie f, t he mother’s w ill le ft a specia l legacy of a thousand

dollars to the grandson , and t he rest of w hat she possessed tobe divided betw een her chi ldren . The rest of her possessions !“

But , sacred Heaven !”ex cla imed Madame Jacob. She had

no more possessions ! The papers signed a t the time of t hebrother’s ma rriage , signed by a l l three, mother, daughter, son—w ha t w ere they but a mortgage on her property ? Vol syknew it now ,

w ell enough ! and the money for w hat ? Togive Paul to ma rry h is rich w i fe on , to play t he rich gentleman w ith And w here d id the old w oman get the moneyto play the rich grandmother on ? She borrow ed it . As Volsyin her emergency had borrowed it . For, sa id Madame Jacob

,her voice hoa rse and face red w ith the vehemence of her

anger,

“the rich love only t he rich, as the poor old w oman

knew . They have no hea rt or, as madame put i t more vig

orously in French—they have no en tra i l l es .

“Money, money,"

rubbing her fingers together,“ tha t is their hea rt , their soul ,

t heir body. May God choke them in purgatory w ith money l”

Her temper w as to concea l her emotion—any one could d iscernthat . Well, what w as there to say ? Nothing by Vol sy , muchby Madame Jacob ; and Madame Jacob found much tha t couldbe done by a law yer. But Volsy , w ho had absolutely nothing,found nothing to do, except to try and make her living bysewing.


And now , just as before, w hen one w as w ondering w ha t

w ould happen nex t,Paul

’

s fa ther- in - law died, and so soon as

h is esta t e w as set t led and hi s fort une put int o the posses sionof his daughter, Paul decided to go to Europe w i th w i fe and

chi ld. He w as a rich law yer now , and did not have to stav a t

home to look for busines s. H e left in t he spring. Volsy w en tto his offi ce to say good - by . She d id not cry then. but she

cried when she came home, and Madame Jacob found her

crying often a fter tha t.\Vhen Volsy

’s fete came , on the fi fteen th of August ,

Madame Jacob took up to her room a l itt le presen t, such as shehad a lways given, and Volsy had been delighted to rece ive ,

ever since she w as a litt le gi rl—an image of the V irgi n and

Son , th is time in porcela in , and much prett ier than ever before, ou account of t he poor gi rl

'

s troubles . But w hen Volsysaw it she could only shake her head, and tremble. Madame

Jacob, to take her eyes aw ay, looked a round the room. Wh atshe had not noticed be fore, she saw now : there w as not a

Holy Mother and Child in t he room ; there w as not even one

on the a ltar ! And Volsy had a lw ays been so p ious ! and the

little Child had been her soul’s devotion !Madame Jacob crossed hersel f, as though washing her

hands of t he responsibi lity of tha t pa rt of her na rra tive .

As the summer w ore on , Vol sy fell ill . She tried and triedto get well, to make her living, but impossible ! She couldnot . And there w as t he doctor aga in for her, and t he med icines. There w as no other w ay . She hersel f sent for t he L i tt le Sisters of t he Poor and Madame Jacob made a ges

ture to ind icate w ha t I had seen on t he sidewa lk.

The doct or had given her something to put her asleep, andkeep her so a s long as possible . The grating of t he stretcheras it slid int o t he w agon had roused her. Perhaps she thoughtshe w as in her room

,in bed , w hen she li fted hersel f up,

and then she saw ; she knew a l l .

Madame Jacob’s last words w ere, Paul has made progress—that is, he has made money.

”



The sedge- roots might have been unsight ly a long the

wa ter's edge, but there were morn ing- glories , a l l colors, a l l

shades—oh, such morn ing- glories as w e of t he city never see !Our ci ty morn ing- glories must dream of them, as w e dreamof ange ls. On ly God could be so lavish ! Dropping from the

ta ll spea r - heads to t he water , into the w a ter, under t he wa ter.

And then ,the reflect ion of them, in a l l their colors, blue, white,

pink, purp le , red ,rose , violet !

To think of an obscure little Acadian bayou w ak i ng to flowthe first thing in the morn ing not only through banks of newblown morn ing- glories, but sow n a lso to i t s depths w ith suchreflect ions as must make it think itsel f a bayou in heaven , in

stead of in Paroisse St . Mart in. Perhaps tha t is the reasonthe poor poets think themselves poets, on account of t he beauti ful things that are on ly reflect ed into thei r minds from w hatis above ? Besides the reflection ,

there were a lliga tors in t he

bayou, t rying to slip away be fore w e could see them ,and

w atching us w ith the ir stupid , sen ile eyes, sometimes from nu

der t he thickest , prettiest flow ery bow ers ; and turtles splashinginto the w a ter ahead of us ; and fi sh (silver- sided perch ) , looking l ike reflections themselves, floating t hrough the flow er reflect ions, n ibbling the ir breakfast .

Our bayou had been runn ing through sw amp on ly a littlemore solid than itsel f ; in fact, there w as no sol id ity but whatcame from t he roots of grasses. Now ,

the banks began to getfirmer, from rea l so i l in them . could see ca t tle in t he distance, up to their necks in the lil ies, the ir heads and sha rppointed horns coming up and going dow n in the blue and w hite.

Nothing makes ca tt le’s heads appea r handsomer, w ith t he sun

just rising far, far aw ay on t he other side of them . The sea

marsh cattle turned loose to pasture in the lush spring beauty—tum ed loose in E lysium !But the land w as on ly pa rt ly land yet , and the ca ttle still

cattle to us. The rising sun made revela tions, as our bayoucarried us through a drove in their E lysium, or it might havea lw ays been an E lysium to us. It w as not a l l pasturage , a l lenjoyment . The rising and fa lling feeding head w as entire lydifferent

,as w e could now see , from t he rising and fa lling

agon i z ed head of the bogged—the buried a live . It is w ell tha tthe lilies grow ta ller and thicker over the more treacherous

GRACE ELIZABETH KING 2945

places ; but , misery ! misery ! not much of the process w as concea led from us, for t he cattle have to come to the bayou forwater. Such a splendid black head that had just yielded brea th !The w ide - spread ing ebony horns throw n back among the moming

- glories, t he mouth open from the last sigh, the glassy eyessta ring stra ight a t t he beauti ful blue sky above , w here a ghostly moon st i ll l ingered , the velvet neck ridged w ith veins and

muscles, the body a lready buried in black ooz e . And such a

pretty red - and - w h ite - spotted hei fer , ly ing on her side, Open ingand shutting her eyes, brea th ing softly in meek resigna tion toher horrible ca lamity ! And , aga in, another one w as plungingand battling in t he act of rea li z ing her doom : a fierce , furious,red cow

, gla ring and bellow ing a t t he soft , yielding inexorableabysm under her

, t he bustards settling a fa r off , and her ow nspecies brow sing securely just out of reach .

They understand that much , the sea - marsh cattle, to keepout of reach of the dead combatant . I n the del irium of an

guish, relief cannot be dist inguished from a ttack, and rescueof the victim has been proved to mean goring of t he rescuer.

The bayou turned from it a t last , from our beauti ful lilyw orld about w hich our pleasant thoughts had ceased to floweven in bad poetry.

Our voyage w as for in forma tion , w h ich might be obta ineda t a certa in habita tion ; i f not there , a t a second one, or surelya t a third and most distan t settlement .The bayou narrow ed into a cana l

,then w idened into a

bayou aga in , and the low,level sw amp and pra irie advanced

into w ood land and forest . Oak - trees began , our beauti ful oaktrees ! Grea t branches bent dow n a lmost to the w ater—quiteeven w ith high wa ter

,covered w ith forests of oak , parasites,

lichens, and with vines tha t sw ept out heads as w e passed nuder them, drooping now and then to tra i l in the w a ter, a plaything for the fishes, an d a landing place for amphibious insects.

The sun speckled the wa ter w ith i t s flickering patterns, showering us with light a nd hea t . W e have no spring suns ; our sun,even in December, is a summer one .

And so,w ith a l l i t s grace of curve and bend , and so—the

description is longer than t he voyage—w e come to our firststopping-

place . To t he si de , in fron t of t he w ell - kept fertilefi elds, like a proud little showma n , stood the little house. I ts


pointed shingle roof covered i t l ike t he top of a chafi ng- d ish ,

rea ching dow n to t he w indow s, w h ich peeped out from under i tl ike l ittle eyes.

A woman came out of t he door to mee t us. She had hadt lme during our grace ful w ind ing approach to prepa re for us .

W ha t an i rrevocable vow to old ma idenhood ! At lea st t w en tyfive

, a lmost a possible grandmother, accord ing to Acad ian com

puta tion , and w e l l in t he gr ip of advanci ng yea rs. She w as

dressed in a st iff , dark red ca lico gow n,w ith a w hite apron .

Her black ha ir,smooth and glossy under a va rn ish of grea se ,

w as pla ited high in t he back, and dropped regula r ringlets, sixin a l l , over her forehead . That w as t he epoch w hen her (2 1ami ty came to her, w hen the ha i r w as w orn in that fash ion . Aw oman seldom a lters her coifl'ure a fter a ca lamity of a certa inna ture happens to her. The figure had taken a compa ct rigi di ty , an un fa ltering inflex ibi l ity, a l l the w orld aw ay from t he

ela st icity of matronhood ; and her eves w ere clea r and fi xedlike her figure , neither fa l l ing, nor r i si ng, nor puz z ling underother eyes. H er l ips, her hands, her sl im fee t , w ere consp ic

uously single , too,in t heir intent , neither reach ing, nor feel ing,

nor runn ing for those other l ips, hands, and feet w hich shouldhave doubled t he ir s ingle l i fe .

Tha t w as Adorine Mérionaux , otherw ise the most industrious Aca dian and t he best cottonade - w eaver in the pa rish . Ithad been short , her story. A w oman ’

s love is still w ith thosepeople her story. She w a s th i rt een w hen she met him. Tha tis the age for an Acadian girl to meet him, because , you know,

t he la rge famil ies—the th i rteen , fourteen , fi fteen , tw enty children—take up t he years ; and w hen one w ishes to know one’sgreat - grea t - granclchi ldren (w hich is t he dream of the Acadiangi rl ) one must not delay one

’s story .

She had one month to love him in, and in one w eek they

w ere to have t he w edding. The Acad ians believe that marriage must come an point , as cooks say thei r sauces must beserved . Stand ing on the bayou- bank in front of the Merionaux, one could say

“

Good day”w ith the eyes to the Z évérin

Theriots—that w as the name of the pa rents of the young bridegroom. Looking under t he branches of t he oaks, one could seeacross the pra irie—pra irie and sea -marsh it w as—and clearly

,

distinguish another little red - washed house like the Mérionaux ,



beauti ful enough to startle one, they say , but that w as nothing ;she spent time and ca re upon these things, as i f, l ike otherwomen , her fate seriously depended upon them. There is no

self - abnega t ion l ike that of a w oman in love .

It w as her singing, how ever, w h ich most show ed tha t otherex istence in her ex istence . When she sang a t her spinn ingw heel or her loom, or knelt battl ing clothes on t he bank of thebayou, her lips w ould kiss out the w ords, and the tune w ouldrise and fa ll and tremble , as i f Z éphérin w ere just acrossthere, anywhere ; in fact, as i f every blue and w hite lily mighthide an ear of him .

It w as t he time of t he new moon fortunately when a l l si t

up la te in t he country. The family w ould stop in their ta lkingabout the w edd ing to listen to her. She d id not know i t hersel f, but it—t he singi ng—w as getting louder and clea rer, and,poor little thing

,it told everyt hing. And a fter the fam i ly went

to bed they could still hea r her, sitting on the bank of thebayou, or up in her w indow ,

singing and looking a t t he moontraveling across the l ily pra irie—for a l l i ts beauty an d brightness no more beauti ful and bright than a heart in love .

It w as just past t he middle of t he w eek, a Thursday n ight .The moon w as so bright the colors of the lilies could be seen,

and t he singing, so sw eet , so far- reaching—i t w as the essenceof the longing of love. Then it w as tha t the miracle happened to her. Miracles are always happen ing to the Acadians.

She could not sleep , she could not stay in bed . H er hea rt droveher to the window , and kept her there, and—among the civil i z ed it could not take place, but here she could sing as she

pleased in the middle of the n ight ; it w as nobody’s a ffa ir, nobody’s d isturbance .

“ Sa int Ann ! Sa int Joseph ! Sa int Mary l”

She heard her song answ ered ! She held her hea rt, she bentforw ard, she sang aga in . Oh, t he a ir w as full of music ! Itw as a l l music ! She fell on her knees ; she listened, looking a tt he moon ; and , w ith her face in her hands, looking a t Z éphérin .

It w as God’s choir of angels, she thought , and one with a voicel ike Z éphérin ! Whenever it d ied away she would sing aga in ,

and aga in , and aga inBut the sun came , and the sun is not crea ted , like the moon ,

for lovers, and whatever happened in the night, there w as workto be done in the day . Adorine worked like one in a trance,


her face as radiant as the upturned face of a sa int . They didnot know w ha t it w as

,or rather they thought it w as love.

Love is so d ifferent out there , they make a l l kinds of a llowanecs for it . But , in truth, Adorine w as still hearing her celestia l voices or voice . I f t he cackl ing of the chickens, t he whirof t he spinn ing - wheel, or the

“ burn bum” of the loom effacedit a moment, she had on ly to go to some still place , round herhand over her ear, and give the line of a song, and—i t w as

Z éphérin—Z éphérin she heard .

She w a lked in a dream unt i l night . When the moon cameup she w as a t the window , and sti ll it cont inued, so fa int, sosweet, that answer to her song. Echo never did anything moreexquisite, but she knew noth ing of such a heathen as Echo.

Human nature became exhausted . She fell asleep w here she

w as, in t he window, and dreamed as only a bride can dreamof her groom. When she aw oke ,

“Adorine ! Adorine !

”the

beauti ful angel voices ca lled to her : “Z éphérin ! Z éphérin

she answ ered , as i f she, too, w ere an angel , signa ling anotherangel in heaven . It w as too much . She w ept , and that broket he charm. She could hea r nothing more a fter that . Al l thatday w as despondency, dejection , t ear - bedew ed eyes, and tremn lous lips, t he commonplace reaction , as a l l know, of love ex

a l t a t ion . Adorine’s family

,Acad ian peasants though they

were , knew as much about it as any one else, and a l l that any .

one knows about it is that ma rriage is the cure - a l l , and the on lycure~a ll , for love .

And Z éphérin? A man could better describe h is side of

that week ; for it , too, has mostly to be described from imagination or experience . What is in ferred is that wha t Adorinelonged and thought and looked in silence and resignation, ac

cording to woman’s w ay , he suffered equa lly, but in a man’

s

w ay ,which is not one of silence or resignation—at least w hen

one is a man of eighteen—t he last interview, the nea r w edding, her beauty, his love, her house in sight, the full moon,

the long, wake ful nights.

H e took h is pirogue but the bayou played with h is impat ience, maddened his passion , bringing him so near, to meander with him aga in so far aw ay. There w as only a shortpra irie between him and—a pra irie thick with lily- roots—one


could a lmost wa lk over their heads,so close and gleaming in

t he moon light . But this a l l only in ference .

The pirogue w as found tethered to t he paddle stuck uprightin the soft bank, and—Adorine’s parents rela ted t he rest .Noth ing else w as found until the summer drought had ba redt he sw amp .

There w as a little girl in the house w hen w e a rrived—a l l

else w ere in t he fi e ld—a stupid, solemn , pretty child , t he childOf a brother. How she kept aw ay from Adorine, and how

much that testified !It would have been too pa in ful . The little arms a round

her neck, the head nestling to her bosom,sleep ily pressing

aga inst it . And the little one might ask to be sung to sleep .

Sung to sleep !The little bed - chamber, w ith i t s high ma t t ressed bed, cov

ered w ith the Acadian home - spun qui lt, trimmed w ith nettingfringe, i t s bit Of mirror over t he bureau,

t he bottle Of perfumedgrease to keep the locks black and glossy, t he prayer- beadsand blessed pa lms hanging on the w a ll, t he low ,

black, pol

ished spinn ing- w heel,the loom—t he Mét ier d’Adorine famed

throughout t he parish—the ever goodly store Of cotton and

yarn hanks sw inging from t he ce iling, and the little square,Open w indow which looked under t he mossy oak - branches tolook over t he pra irie ; and once aga in a l l blue and white lilies—they w ere a l l there as Adorine w as there ; but there w as

more—not there.



less she be an actress on the stage and w el l pa id for it ! (Onenever supposes them to laugh Off the stage and for nothing. )Women can smile

,and they do smile much now adays. When

they are prosperous, the constant sight Of a w ell - gilded homeand a w ell - fi l led pocketbook produces a smile , w hich

,in the

Un ited States, t he l and Of gilded homes and w ell - fi l led pocketbooks, has become stereotyped on their faces, and Americanbabies may even be sa id to be born , a t present , w ith tha t smileon their mouths. But t he laugh

,tha t “

sudden glory w hich ina flash ecl ipses in the hea rt sorrow , poverty, stress, even disgrace, it has become Obsolete among them . Smiling people cannever become laugh ing people ; their development forbids it.New Orleans is not a Puritan mother, nor a ha rdy West

ern p ioneeress, i f t he term be permitted . She is, on the con

t rary , simply a Pa risian,w ho came t w o centuries ago to the

banks Of the Mississipp i—pa rtly out Of curiosity for the NewWorld, pa rtly out Of ennui for the Old—and w ho,

“Ma fa i l ”

as she w ould say w ith a shrug Of her shoulders, has never caredto return to her mother country. She has had her detractors,indeed ca lumn ia tors, w ith their w hispers and sneers abouthouses Of correction—deporta t ion—but , it may be sa id

,those

w ho know her ca re too li t t le for such gossip to resent it ; thosewho know her not

,know as l itt le Of the class to w hich they

a ttribute her origin .

There is no subtler apprecia tor Of emotions than the Parisian w oman—emot ions they w ere in the colon ia l days, now theyare sensations. And there a re no amateurs Of emotiona l novelty to compare w ith Paris ian w omen . The France Of Louis ! IVw as domed over w ith a roya lty as vast and limi t less as the

heaven of to - day . The court , w ith i t s sun - king and titled z o

diac, w as pract ica l ly the upw ard limit Of sight and hOpe for aw hole people . I n w ha t a noonday glare from this a rtificia lheaven ,

did Pa ris, so n igh to t he empyrean ,l ie ! I t s tinsel

splendours, even more generously than the veritable sun lightitsel f

,fell upon the crow ded streets and teeming lodgings.

Nay ,there w as not a nook nor a cranny Of poverty, crime , d is

ease , suffering, vice , filth,tha t could not , i f it w ished, enjoy

a ray Of t he i lluminat ion that formed the a tmosphere in whichtheir celestia l upper classes lived and loved, with the immemoria l manners and language which contempora ry poets, without


anachron ism, fi tted so well to the gods and goddesses ofclassic Greece . The da inty fil igree and del icacies and refi ne

ments, the sensuous luxuries, t he sumptuous furn i tures of bodyand mind, the si lks, sa tins, velvets, brocades, ormolu, tapestry ;t he drama , poet ry, music, pa inting, sculpture , dancing (for,in the reign Of t he Grand Mona rque dancing a lso must beadded to the fi ne a rts ) and that constant May

- day , as it maybe ca lled, on a Fie ld Of Cloth Of Gold , for pleasure and entert a inment—a l l this became , to the commonest Pa risian and t he

genera l Frenchman , as commonplace and as unsa tisfactorily inaccessible, a s our ow n Celest ia l sphere has become to the average citi z en Of to - day .

Over in America , it w as vast forests be fore them, fabulousstreams, new peoples, w ith new languages, religions, customs,manners, beauty, living in naked freedom, in skin - covered w igwams, pa lmetto - thatched huts, w ith a l l the range Of humanthrills Of sensa tion ,

in a l l t he range Of physica l adventure .

This w as heaven enough to st ir the Ga llic blood st i ll flowing in some ha rdy veins Of France .

Women ,how ever, like not these things, but they love the

men w ho do. And,w hen the Parisian w omen follow ed their

hea rts, tha t they did not leave behind in France the ir idea lsnor their rea li t ies Of brocades, snuff - boxes

,high - heeled slip

pers, euphemisms, minuet s,‘

and gavottes that they re fused toea t com - bread, and demanded slaves in thei r rough - hew n cab

ins—a l l of this, from the gen ia l backw ard glance Of to - day ,

adds a piquant, rather than a hostile, flavouring to the colon ia lsitua tion .

In Canada ,t he Frenchw omen were forced, by the rigorous

necessity Of clima te and savage w ar, to burst w ith suddeneclosion from fi ne dames into intrepid border heroines and

inspired ma rtyrs. I n Louisiana cl imate and c ircumstanceswere kinder, and so, evolution w as substi tuted for ca t aclvsm.

Our city brought her entire character from France , her

qua l ities, as in French good qua lit ies are poli t ely ca lled , and

her defects. But who thinks Of her defects, w ithout ex t enua t ions ? Not t he Canadian and French pioneers w ho insta lledher upon the banks Of t he Mississippi , imagin ing thereby toinsta ll her upon the commercia l throne Of America ; not the


descendants of these pioneers, and most assuredly not thosewhom she has since housed and loved.

Critica l sister cities note , tha t for a city of the Un itedSta tes, New Orleans is not enterprising enough, tha t she hasnot competition enough in her, that she is un—Ameri can

, in

fact , too Creole . This is a criticism tha t can be classed intwo ways ; either among her qua lities or her defects. It ispa lpably cert a in that she is ca reless in rega rd to opportun it iesfor financia l profit, and that she is an ind ifferent contestan twith other cities for trade development a nd populat ion ext ension . Schemes do not come to her in sea rch Of mil l iona irepa trons ; milliona ires are not fond Of coming to her in sea rchof schemes ; noble suitors, even , do not come to her for he iresses. It is extremely doubt ful i f she w ill ever be rich

, as

riches are counted in the New \Vorld , this transplanted Parisian city. SO many effort s have been expended to make herrich ! In va in ! She does not respond to the process. It seemsto bore her. She is too impat ient , ind iscreet, too frank withher tongue , too free with her hand , and—th is is confident ia lta lk in New Orleans—the American milliona ire is an impos

sible type to her. She certa inly has been admon ished enoughby politica l economists :

“

Any one ,”say they ,

“

w ho can fore

gO a certa in amount Of pleasure can be rich She retorts(retorts are quicker w i th her than reasons ) : And any one

who can forego a certa in amount Of riches can have plea sure.

”

And w ha t i f she be a money - spender, ra ther than a moneysaver ; and i f in add i t ion she be a rbitrary in her dislikes, tyrann ica l in her loves, h igh - tempered , luxurious. pleasure loving,i f she be an en igma to prudes and a paradox to puritans, i f, inshort , she be possessed Of a l l t he defects Of the over- bloodedrather than those Of the under- blooded , is she not , a l l in a l l ,

cha rming ? I s she not (tha t rarest Of a l l qua li t ies in Americancities ) ind ividua l , interesting ? H er tempers, her furies, i f

you w ill, past, is she not gentle, sympathetic, tender ? Can any

city or women be more delica tely frank. sincere , unegot ist ic?

I s there a gra in Of ma l ice in her composition ? Have even herworst detractors ever suspected her Of that mongrel vicemeanness?And fi na lly, in misfortune and sorrow—and it does seem

a t times that she has known both beyond her desserts—has



forma lly took possession of the country, and the fi rst name hegave on the Mississippi w as in honour of t he day , to a littlestream—Bayou Ma rdi Gras, as it still is printed on t he last ,as on the first map of t he region. After such a beginni ng

,

and w ith such a coincidence of festiva ls, it is not surpri singto fi nd traces of Ma rd i Gras celebra t ions throughout a l l theearly Louisiana chron icles. The boisterous buffooneries of

the gay l i t t le garrison a t Mobi le genera l ly made Ash W ednes

day a day for milita ry as w ell as clerica l discipline , and the

same record w as ma inta ined in New Orleans. As for NewOrleans, it is sa fe to say tha t her streets saw not the soberqua lities of li fe any earlier than the travesty of i t and tha tsince thei r a lignment by Pauger, they have never mi ssed thei ryearly affluence of Mardi Gras masks and dominoes ; nor fromt he earliest records, have the masks and dominoes missedtheir yea rly ba lls.

Critica l European travellers aver that they recogni z e bya thousand sha des in the colouring of t he New Orleans ca r

n iva l , the Span ish , rather than the French influence , citing as

evidence the innocent and respect ful fooleries of street maskers, t he digni ty of the great street parades, the stately et i

quet t e Of t he l arge publ ic mask ba lls, the refined intrigue of

t he priva t e ones. These cha racteristics na tura l ly escape the

habitua t ed eyes Of the na t ives. The old French and Span ishSpirit Of the ca rn iva l has in their eyes been completely destroyed by the innovation of American ideas, as they are stillca lled . For i t w as an American idea to organi z e t he ca rn iva l ,to subst i tut e regula r parades for the Old impromptu mummeryin t he st reet s, and to un ite into t w o or three socia l assemb lages the sma ller publ ic mask ba lls tha t w ere sca ttered throught he season ,

from Tw e l fth Night to Mardi Gras. The mod ifi ca t ion w as a necessary one in a p lace w here society had so

rap i dly outgrow n the l im i t ing surve i llance Of a resident governor and of an autocrat ic court circle ; and i f much seems tohave been lost of the Ol d ind ividua l exuberance of w i t and

fun ,specimens of w h ich have come to us in so many fascina

t ing ep isodes from the a lw ays socia lly enviable past , t he ga inin preserving a t least the forms of t he Old society through thesocia l upheava l and chaos of revolution and civil w ar hasbeen rea l and important.


The celebration of Mardi Gras is an episode tha t neverbecomes sta le to the people of the city , how ever monotonoust he description or even t he enumeration of i t s enterta inmentsappea rs to strangers. At any age it makes a Creole w omanyoung to remember it as she saw it a t eighteen ; and the de

script ion of w hat it appea red to t he eyes Of eighteen w ouldbe, perhaps, t he on ly fa ir description of it , for i f Ma rdi Grasmeans anything, it means illusion ; and un fortuna tely, w henone a tta ins one’s ma jority in t he lega l w orld , one ceases tobe a cit i z en Of Phantasmagoria .

There is a theory , usua lly brui t ed by the journa ls on AshWednesday morn ing, tha t Ma rdi Gras is a utilitarian fest iva l ;that it pays . But this deceives no one in the city. It is as

sumed, as the sacramenta l ashes are by many, perfunctorily,or merely for mora l effect upon others, upon those w ho are

committed, by birth or conviction , aga inst pleasure for pleasure’s sake . To t he contrite journa l ist , laying aside mask and

domino, to pen such an editoria l , it must seem indeed a t sucha time a d ishearten ing fact tha t money -making is the onlypleasure in t he Un ited States that meets w ith un iversa l journa l ist ic approba tion .

There is a tradition tha t the roya lt ies of the carn iva l Showa no more satisfactory divine right to their thrones than otherroya lties ; that t he kings are the heavy contributors to the

organ i z a tion , and tha t a queen’s cla ims upon t he counci l boa rds

of the rea lm of beauty are not entirely by reason of her per

sona l cha rm . There is such a tradition , but it is never recogn i z ed a t ca rniva l t ime, and seldom believed by t he ones mostinterested ; never, never, by t he society neophyte Of the season .

Ah , no ! Comus, Momus, Proteus, the Lord of Misrule, Rex ,

fi nd ever in New Orleans the hea rt y loya lty of the most unquestioned Jacobinism and the real mask of li fe never portrays more satisfactorily the fictitious superiority Of consecrat ed individua lism in European monarchies than ,

in the CrescentCity, do these sham faces, the eterna l youth and beauty of theca rniva l roya lties.

There is a tradition tha t young matrons have recogn i z edthe ir husbands in their masked cava liers a t ba lls ; and tha t theRomeo incogn ito of many a débutante has been resolved into abrother, or even (beshrew the suspicion l ) a father ; but at


least it is not the debut an te who makes the discovery. Her

cava lier is a lways beyond peradventure her illusion, livingin the E lysium of her future , as the cava lier of the matron isa lw ays some no less cherished illusion from the E lysium of

t he past . As it is the desi re of the young girl to be the subjectof these illusions, so it is t he cherished desire of the young boyto become the object of them . To put on mask and costume ,to change h is persona lity ; to figure some day in the compl imentary colouring of a prince Of India , or of a Grecian god ,or even to ape the mincing graces of a dancing girl or woodland nymph ; to appea r to t he inamorata , clouded in the un

know n,as t he ancient gods did of old to simple shepherdesses ;

and so to excite her imagina tion and perhaps more ; this is thecounterpa rt of the young girl

’s illusions in the young boy’s

dreams. A god is only a man when he is in love ; and a man,a l l a god .

Utilita rian ! Al as, no ! Look a t the children ! But theynevertheless have a lw ays furn ished the sweetest delight ofMard i Gras, as Rex h imsel f must acknow ledge from his thronechariot . It is the first note of the day , the twitt ering of thech ildren in the street , the j ingling of the bells on the ir cambriccostumes. Wha t a fl ight of masquerad ing butterfl ies they are !And w ha t fun ! w ha t endless fun for them, too,

to mysti fy,

to change their chubby little persona lities, to hide their cherubfaces under a pasteboard mask, and run from house to houseof friends and rela tions, making people guess w ho they are,

and frighten ing the good - na tured servants in the kitchen intosuch convulsions of terror ! And they are a l l going to be Rexsome day , as in other ci t ies the little children are a l l going tobe President .

Profitable ! Ah , yes ! Ask the crow d in the street ; thehuman ol l a podrida of ca relessness, jovia lity, and colour ; morered , blue, and yellow gow ns to the block than can be met in a

mi le in any other city of t he Un ited States. Ask the larkingbands of maskers ; t he strolling minstrels and monkeys ; thecoloured torchbea rers and grooms ; Bedouin princes in theirscarlet tun ics and turbans (no travesty this but the right fulcostume, as the unmasked , black face test i fies) . Even the

mules tha t draw the ca rs recogn i z e t he t rue profit of t he Sa turnalian sp irit of the ca rn iva l, and in their gold - stamped capa ri


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

names and dates of the past ; identi fying the events with thesure precision of geologi ca l strata . On them are chron icled thenames of t he French and Canad ian first settlers the Spani shnames and Spani sh epitaphs of that domination ; the names ofthe émi

'

grés from the French revolution ; from the d i fferent

West Ind ian islands ; t he names of the re fugees from Napoleon’

s a rmy ; the first sprink ling of American names ; and

those interest ing English names that tell how the woundedprisoners of Pakenham

’s a rmy pre ferred rema in ing in the

land of their capt ivity, to return ing home . The St . Louiscemetery for the coloured people un folds t he chapter of thecoloured immigra tion , and by epitaph and name furn ishes thelinks of their history .

The first Protestant cemetery (very far out of the ci tyin i t s day ,

now in the center ) bea rs t he name of t he FrenchProtestant mayor and ph i lanthropist , Nicolas Girod . It belongs to the Fauborg St e . Ma rie period , and in it are foundthe names of the pioneers of her enterprise ; of t he fi rst grea tAmerica n fortune - makers, the first grea t politica l leaders, thebrilliant doctors of law , med icine, and divin ity ,

w ho neverhave died from t he memory of the place . I n it is to be foundthe tomb of tha t beaut i ful w oman and cha rming a ctress, MissPlacide, wi th t he poet ica l epitaph w ritten for her by Ca ldwell ; t he lines w hich every w oman in society in New Orleans,fi fty yea rs ago, w as ex pected to know and repea t . The Mex

ican W ar is commemorated in i t by a monument to one of

t he heroes and v ictims, Genera l Bl iss. The grea t epidemicsmake their entries yea r a fter yea r ; pa thetic reading it is ; a l lyoung, st rong, and brave , accord ing to the ir epitaphs, and belonging to t he best families. The epidemics of

’

52 and’

53da te t he open ing Of new cemeteries, in which the lines of t heghast ly trenches are still to be traced .

The Meta irie cemetery (transformed from t he Ol d ra cetrack ) conta ins the arch ives of the new era—a fter t he Civi lW ar and the reconstruction . In it are Con federate monuments, and t he tombs of a grandeur surpassing a l l previousloca l standa rds. As the saying is, it is a good sign of pros

peri ty w hen the dead seem to be getting richer.The Old St . Louis cemetery is closed now . It opens i t s

gates on ly a t the knock of an heir, so to speak ; gives har

GRACE ELIZABETH KING 2961

bourage only to those w ho can cla im a resting- place by theside of an ancestor. Between Al l Sa ints and Al l Sa ints, i t sadmittances are not a few ,

and the registry volumes are stillbeing added to ; the list Of names, in the fi rst crumbling Oldtome , is still being repea ted , over and over aga in ; some of

them so Ol d and so forgotten in the presen t tha t dea th hasno oblivion to add to them. Indeed, w e may say they liveonly in t he dea th register.Not a year has gone by since , on a January day , one of

the bleakest w inter days the city had known for ha l f a cen

tury, a fi le Of mourners followed one of the city’s oldest chi l

dren, and one of the cemetery’s most ancient heirs, to h is last

rest ing-

place by the side of a grand father. The si lver crucifi x gleamed fi t ful ly ahead, appearing and disappearing as itled the w ay in t he ma z e of irregula rly built tombs, throughpa thways, hollowed to a furrow ,

by the footsteps Of t he in

numerable funera l processions that had followed the deadsince the first buria ls there . The chanting of the priests, w inding in and out a fter the crucifix, fell on the ear in detachedfragments, ri sing and dropping as the tombs closed in oropened out behind them. The path , with i t s sharp turns, w asa t times impassable to the cofli n , and it had to be li fted abovet he tombs and borne in the a ir

,on a level w ith the crucifix.

With i t s heavy black draperies, i t s proport ions in t he greyhumid atmosphere appea red colossa l, magn ified, and transfigured w ith the n inety- one yea rs of l i fe inside. It w as Cha rlesGayarré be ing conveyed to the tomb of M. de Bore, the historian of Louisiana making his last bodily appearance on

ea rth—ln the corner Of ea rth he had loved so well and so

poetica lly .

Woman and mother as she ever appeared in li fe to theloving imagina tion of her devoted son , it w as but fitt ing tha tNew Orleans should hersel f head the fi le of mourners and

weep bitterly a t t he tomb ; for that she lives a t a l l in tha t bestof living w orlds, the w orld of history, romance, and poetry.

she ow es to him whom brick and mortar w ere shutting out

forever from human eyes. AS a youth , he consecrated h isfi rst ambitions to her ; through manhood , he devoted h is pento her ; Old , suffering, bereft by misfortune of his ancestra lheritage, and the fruit of h is prime

’s vigour and industry , he

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

yet stood over her a courageous knight, to de fend her aga instt he aspersions of strangers, t he slanders of tra itors. He heldher archives not only in h is memory but in h is hea rt, and whilehe lived, none da red make public aught about her history ex

cept with h is vigilant form in the line of vision.

The streets of the ri eux carré,through which he gam

bolled as a schoolboy, and through w hich his hearse had slow lyrolled ; the cathedra l in w hich he w as bapti z ed, and in w hichh is requiem w as sung ; and the Old cemetery, t he resting -

placeof h is ancestors

, parents, and forbears and t he sanctuary inwhich his imagina tion ever found insp i ra tion and couragethey gave much to his li fe ; but his li fe gave a lso much to them.

And the human eyes looking out through thei r sadness of persona l bereavement from t he ca rriages of the funera l cortege,saw in them a thousand signs (according to the pa thetic fa llacy of human ity ) Of like sadness and bereavement.Thus it is, that one beholden to him for a long li fe’s en

dow ment of affection ,help, and encouragement, judges it

meet that a chron icle begun under h is auspices, to w h ich hecontributed so richly from his memory, and of whose successhe w as so tenderly solicitous, should end, as it began , with a

tribute of his memory and name.



like the a larm -

pea l of a fi re - bell a t m idn ight. During the days of

impress ionable youth he heard and read the h igh deba tes overthe repeal of th e M i ssouri Comprom ise. Then came the ex ci tingquestions of nul l ifica t ion , the Fugi tive Slave Law , t he KansasNebra ska B i ll , and a l l t he i ssues tha t threa tened and foreshadow edthe di sruption of t he Un ion . After these w e had the Civi l W ar,

w i th i t s bapti sm of fi re and blood ; then the p i ti less yea rs of re

construction ,follow ed by the slow decades of reconci l ia tion and

nat iona l rehabi l i t a tion ,up to t he mourn ful morn ing, w hen , as a

grea t juri st o f a reun i ted coun try, Mr. Justice Lama r w as ga theredto h is fa thers.In t he ha lls of Congress, Mr. Lamar’s grea t gi fts shone w i th

uncommon Splendor. In pol i tics he w a s a reverent di sciple of JohnC. Ca lhoun , and a conscien tious bel i ever in his interpretation of theCon sti tut ion. He w as none t he less an arden t lover of the w holena tion and i t s organ ic l aw . L ike al l t he other grea t Southern leaders, he contempla ted w i th profound sorrow the possibi l i ty and evi

den t grow ing necessi ty of a di sun i ted country .

But w i th the election of Mr. L incoln , and t he fa ta l divi sion in

t he ranks of the D emocra tic party, he felt tha t t he peaceful ad

justment of the fierce and bi tter sect iona l controversy w as no longera possibi li ty . He therefore resign ed his sea t in Congress and ad

v i sed the w i thdraw a l of a l l t he Southern Sta tes from the Federa lUn ion . In t he M i ss iss ipp i Convent ion ,

w h ich met in Ja ckson ,

January 7, 1 86 1 , he w as Cha irman of t he Commi ttee of Fi fteen tha tbrought in the Ordinance of Secession—a h i storic documen t tha tw as dra fted by h is ow n hand. O f the a ction on tha t fa ta l day ,w h ich proved to be a na tiona l tragedy—an act ion tak en w i th the

deepest regret and yet w ith honest bel ief in i t s be ing right and

necessary—Colonel Lama r a fterw ard sa id : “ I t w a s not a conspir

acy of indiv idua ls. On the con trary , i t w a s the culm ina t ion of a

grea t dyna stic struggle w h ich w a s not in t he pow er of any ind ividua l man or set of men to prevent or postpone.”During the four years of civi l w a r Colonel Lamar rendered brief

but bri ll iant m i l itary serv ice in t he field as L ieutenant- colonel ofthe Nineteenth M i ss i ssipp i Regiment. But most of t he time he spentin Europe, having been comm i ssioned by President Davi s as Min

i ster to Russia from the Con federa te Sta tes of America .

For severa l years a fter t he w ar betw een the Sta tes , he servedw i th conspicuous ab i l ity as a professor in the Un iversity of Mississipp i—fi rst in the cha ir of menta l and mora l ph i losophy and

a fterw ard a s dean of the l aw department. Retiring from thi s position , he resumed the successful pract ice of h is profession ; but a l lthe w hi le h is grea t soul w as burdened a lmost to breaking because



and to change bi tter an imosi ties into sympa thy and regard. I f the

people of the South could only have seen my heart w hen I made mySumner Speech, they w ould have seen tha t love for them, and

anx iety for the ir fa te, throbbed in every sentence that my l ips

ut t ered.Colonel Lamar never appeared to grea ter advantage, as sta tes

man and patriot, than in the electora l con troversy of 1 876 Tha tw a s a na tiona l cris i s not one w h it less momentous and portentousthan t he mighty i ssues of 1 86 1 . The Presidency of the na t ion hungin the ba lance and t he l i fe of the Con st itution w as on tria l. Partysp iri t ran high and pol i t ica l passion w as a t w hi te heat. The Senatew as Republ ican ,

w hi le the House of Representa tives w as Demo

cratic by a large ma j ority. Ea ch house cla imed i ts rights under theConsti tution to pa ss upon the election returns, and nei ther w ouldsubmi t to the dicta tion of the other. The conserva tive course ofColonel Lamar in that aw ful cri si s enthroned h im as a conspi cuouspoli tica l leader and trusted pacifi ca tor.

The passage in Sena tor Lamar’s li fe w h ich probably more than

any other displayed his superb manl iness and subl ime mora l couragew as his posi tion and vote on w ha t w as know n as

“the S i lver B i l l .”

To the subj ect of na tional finance he had given long and ex haustivestudy. Aga inst th i s part icular mea sure pending in the Senate hehad made a ma sterly argument, regarded by some as possibly theablest Speech of his en tire pa rl iamentary ca reer. But the hard

times then preva i l ing had reaw akened the periodi ca l demand for

cheap money and an increased volume of the currency. The Legislaturo of Mi ssissippi pa ssed resolut ions instructing our sena tors toca st their votes for the pending b i ll. Th i s gave Sena tor Lamar thekeenest pa in . To suff er legi sla tive di splea sure w as to h im a new

and bitter ex perience. He loved h is people and w as proud of theirconfidence and esteem.

When t he fina l and solemn hour came for a vote on th e passageof t he bi ll, Senator Lamar arose, presented the resolutions of theLegislature of M i ssissipp i , and addressed the Senate in these w ords :“ Betw een these resolutions and my convict ions there is a grea tgul f . Of my love to the Sta te of M issi ssippi I w i ll not speak ;my l i fe al one can tell i t . During my l i fe in that Sta te i t has beenmy privi lege to assist in the education of more than one generationof her youth—to have given the impulse to w ave a fter w ave of theyoung manhood that has passed into the troubled sea of her Socia land pol it ica l l i fe. Upon them I have a lw ays endeavored to impressthe bel ief that truth w as better than fa lsehood , honesty betterthan pol icy, courage better than cow ardice. To- day my lessons con

front me. To - day I must be true or fa lse, honest or cunn ing, fa i th

LUCIUS Q . c. LAMAR 2967

ful or unfaith ful to my people. I cannot vote as these resolut ions

direct.”Bel ieving as he did in the omn ipotence of truth and the cer

ta inty of publ ic justi ce, he had the strength and courage to abidethe sure and triumphant vindica tion of the future. The poli tica lannals of M issi ssipp i conta in no chapter more drama tic and heroicthan Sena tor Lamar’s magn ificent canvass of the Sta te a fter h isadverse vote on the S i lver B i ll. Some of the scenes w ere thri ll ingrepeti tions of those tha t a ttended Sargeant S. Prentiss—that inspiredw i z ard of persuas ive Speech—during his second canvass for a sea t

in Congress.At the invi tation of President Cleveland, Senator Lamar became

a member of h is first Cabinet as Secretary of the Interior. Manydoubted the w i sdom of tha t selection , bel iev ing tha t the grea t statesman’s throne of pow er w as a sea t in the Un ited Sta tes Senate.

Others insi sted tha t, though a phi losoph ical statesman and profoundscholar, he w as too l i ttle acqua inted w ith pra ctica l a ffa irs for the

headship of an ex ecutive department of t he Governmen t . ButLamar, the

“dreamer” and “ idea l ist,” as he w as cal led, aston i shedt he na tion by h is absolute mastery of departmenta l a ffa irs ; and byuni versa l assent he w as one of the grea test secretaries that ever sa t

a t t he counci l - table of an American Presiden t .But higher honors aw a i ted h im. A vacancy having occurred in

the Supreme Court of the Uni ted Sta tes, Presi dent Cleveland, considering Lamar

’s eminent fitness for the posit ion , sent h is name to

the Sena te on the six th of December, 1 886. Strong parti san Opposition w as developed aga inst him in the North . The Judici ary Commi t t ee reported aga inst h is confirma tion ch iefly on the grounds of

his age and lack of practica l experience in the courts. ColonelLamar resigned his sea t in t he Cabinet, thereby forcing the Sena teto consider h is name as a priva te cit i z en . At length, on January1 6, 1 887, h is appo intment w as confirmed, and his grea t service on

the bench vindica ted the judgment of h is friends and disappointedthe hOpe of his enemies.

Judge Lamar w as a great student and a profound scholar. In

1 886 he received the degree of LL .D . from Harvard Un iversi ty.H is oration a t t he unvei l ing of the Ca lhoun monument a t Charleston , in 1 887, w a s one of the grea test del iverances of his ent ire publ icl i fe. The w i fe of h is youth having died several years before, hew as marri ed January 5, 1 887, to the w idow of Genera l W. S. Holt,a daughter of James D ean of Georgia .

H is w as a ph i IOSOphic ca st of m ind . He dw elt in the h igherrea lms of thought. This gave h im the loneliness and sometimes


the mood iness of gen ius. Beneath surface fact s he saw theirph i losophy and di scovered their unerring tendency.He w a s an unquestion ing bel iever in t he grea t verities of the

Christian rel igion . His Spiritua l sensibi li ties w ere strangely a cuteand eas i ly impressed. H e had t he na tura l temperament of a seer,and in his thinking dw elt much in t he rea lm of the unseen.

Bornof devout parents, reared in a Chri stian home

, early and thoroughlyimbued w i th t he Sp iri t of the Chri stian rel igion , he ca rried throughli fe t he Simple fa ith and Short creed of innocent ch i ldhood.

Judge Lamar d ied suddenly January 23, 1 893, a t Macon , Geor

gi a . He w a s buried temporari ly nea r tha t city, and a year or tw o

later the body w as carried to Ox ford , M ississippi , for fina l int ermen t.

ON THE DEATH OF CHARLES SUMNERExt ract s from a speech made in the House of Representa t ives. Apri l 28, 1 874.

MR . SPEAKER—In rising to second the resolutions justoffered, I desire to add a few remarks which have occurred tome a s appropriate to the occasion . I believe that they expressa sentiment w hich pervades the hea rts of a l l the people w hoserepresenta tives are here a ssembled . Strange as, in lookingba ck upon t he past, the assertion may seem, impossible as itwould have been t en years ago to make it , it is not the less truetha t to - day Mississippi regrets the death of Cha rles Sumner,and sincerely unites in paying honors to his memory.

I leave to others to Speak of his intellectua l superiority, ofthose rare gi fts w ith which nature had SO lavishly endow edhim, and of t he pow er to use them which he had acqui red byeduca tion . Let me speak of the characteristics w hichbrought the illustrious Senator w ho has just passed aw ay intodirect and bitter antagon ism for yea rs w ith my ow n Sta te andher sister States Of the South .

Charles Sumner w as born w ith an instinctive love of freedom , and w as educated from h is earliest - in fancy to the belieftha t freedom is the natura l and indefeasible right of every int el l igent be ing having the outw ard form of man . In him,

in



he held none the less that it must sooner or later be en forced ,

though institut ions and constitutions should have to give w ay

a like before it . But here let me do this grea t man the just icewhich

, amid t he excitement of the struggle between the sec

tions—now past—I may have been disposed to deny him. In

th is fiery z ea l, and this ea rnest w a rfare aga inst the wrong, ashe viewed it , there entered no enduring persona l animositytoward the men whose lot it w as to be born to the systemwhich he denounced .

It has been the kindness of the sympathy which in thesel ater yea rs he has displayed toward the impoverished and suf

fering people of the Southern States tha t has unveiled to methe generous and tender hea rt w hich bea t beneath the bosomof the z ea lot , and has forced me to yield him the tribute ofmy respect—I might even say of my admirat ion . Nor in the

man i festation of this has there been anything which a proudand sensitive people, smarting under a sense of recent d iscomfi ture and present suffering, might not frankly accept , or whichwould give them just cause to suspect i t s sincerity.

i s t i s air at: t

It w as certa in ly a gracious act toward t he South—thoughunhappily it ja rred upon t he sens ibili ties of t he people a t the

other ex treme of t he Un ion,and estranged from him the great

body of h is politica l friends—to propose to erase from the

banners of the nationa l army t he mementos of the bloody int em ecine struggle, which might be regarded as assa i ling the

pride or w ounding the sensibi lities of the Southern people .

Tha t proposa l w ill never be forgotten by that people SO longas the name of Cha rles Sumner lives in the memory of man .

But , w hile it touched t he hea rt Of t he South, and elicited her

profound gratitude, her people w ould not have asked of theNort h such an act of sel f - renunciation .

Conscious tha t they themselves w ere an imated by devotionto constitutiona l libert y, and that the brightest pages of historyare replete w ith evidences Of the depth and sincerity of tha tdevotion , they cannot but cherish the recollections of sacrificesendured, the battles fought , and the victories w on in defenseof thei r hapless cause . And respecting, as a l l true and bravemen must respect, the ma rtia l Spirit with which t he men ofthe North vindicated the integrity of the Union, and their

LUCIUS Q . C. LAMAR 297 1

devotion to the principles of human freedom, they do not ask,they do not w ish t he North to strike t he mementos of her

heroism and victory from either records or monuments or ba tt le flags. They w ould rather tha t both sections Should gatherup the glories w on by each section : not envious, but proud Ofeach other, and regard them a common heritage of Americanva lor.

Let us hope that future genera tions w hen they rememberthe deeds of heroism and devot ion done on both sides, willspeak not of Northern pr

‘

owess and Southern courage, but oft he heroism, fortitude, and courage of Americans in a w ar of

idea s ; a w ar in w hich each section Signa li z ed it s consecra tionto the principles, as each understood them,

of American libertyand of the constitution received from their fa thers.

It w as my misfortune , perhaps my fault, persona lly neverto have known th is eminent philanthropist and statesman.

The impulse w as often strong upon me to go to him and offerhim my hand, and my hea rt with it, and to express to him mythanks for h is kind and considerate course towa rd t he peoplewith whom I am iden tified . I f I d id not yield to that impulse,it w as because t he thought occurred that other days werecoming in which such a demonstra tion might be more opportune, and less liable to misconstruct ion . Suddenly, and without premon it ion, a day has come a t last to which

,for such

a purpose, there is no to - morrow . My regret is therefore int ensifi ed by the thought that I fa iled to speak to him out oft he fullness of my heart while there w as yet time .

How often is it tha t death thus brings unava i lingly backto our remembrance opportunities un improved : in w hich generous overtures, prompted by t he hea rt , rema in unoffered ;frank avow a ls which rose to the lips rema in unspoken ; andthe injustice and wrong of bitter resentments rema in nu

repa ired ! Charles Sumner, in li fe, believed that al l occasionfor stri fe and distrust between the North and South had passedaway, and tha t there no longer rema ined any cause for con

tinned estrangement betw een these two sections of our com

mon country. Are there not many of us w ho bel ieve the samething ? I s not that the common sent iment—or i f it is not ,

ought it not to be—of the great mass of our people, North andSouth ? Bound to each other by a common constitution, des


tined to live together under a common government , formingun ited ly but a single member of the grea t family of nat ions,sha ll w e not now a t last endeavor to grow tow ard each otheronce more in hea rt , as w e are a lready indissolubly linked toeach other in fortunes ? Sha ll w e not , over the honored re

ma ins of this great champion of h uman libert y, this fee lingsympa thi z er with human sorrow

,this ea rnest pleader for t he

exercise of human tenderness and charity, lay aside t he con

cea lment s which serve on ly to perpetuate misunderstand ingsand d istrust , and frankly con fess that on both sides w e mostea rnestly desire to be one ; one not merely in commun ity oflanguage and literature and traditions and country ; but more,and better than a l l that, one a lso in feeling and in heart ? Am

I mistaken in this ?Do t he concea lments of which I speak still cover animosities

w hich neither time nor reflection nor the march of events haveyet sufl‘iced to subdue ? I cannot be lieve it . Since I have beenhere I have watched w ith anxious scrutiny your sent imentsas expressed not merely in public deba te , but in the abandon of

persona l confidence . I know w ell t he sentiments of these, mySouthern brothers, w hose hea rts are so in folded that the feeling of each is t he feeling of a l l ; and I see on both sides on lythe seeming of a constra int , w hich each appa rently hesita testo d ismiss. The South—prostrate , exhausted, dra ined of her

l i feblood, as w ell as of her materia l resources, yet st i ll honorable and true—accepts the b itter aw a rd of the bloody a rbitrament w ithout reservation ,

resolutely determined to abide the

result w ith chiva lrous fidelity ; yet , as i f struck dumb by themagnitude of her reverses, She suffers on in silence . The

North,exul tant in her triumph , and elated by success, still

cherishes, as w e are assured , a hea rt full of magnanimous emotions towa rd her d isa rmed and d iscomfi t ed antagon ist ; and yet ,as i f mastered by some mysterious spell, silencing her betterimpulses, her w ords and acts are the words and acts of sus

picion and distrust .Would tha t the spirit of the i llustrious dead whom w e la

ment today could speak from the grave to both parties toth is deplorable discord in tones which Should reach each and

every hea rt throughout this broad territory : “My countrymen ! know one another, and you w ill love one another. ”


w a l th are t l i e true founda i i ons c- f a peCpl e'

s happinm t l i

Federa l bayonet s. They insp ire a nant empt for- lam m f cfi s

a ir. this rare prob lem is capab le of solut ion . Tw o Eng l iflxsta t esmu i such as l c rri Derby and Ea l - a sse lL or l r.

Gl adst one and Mr. Disrae l i. could agree upon a bas is Of sett lemen t in di ree days z and w e conld do t he same here bur t

‘

orthe int erposi t ion of the passions of part y in t he w ri t es for t hepow er and emolumm of goverm .

3

Sir. w e know t ha t one gri s t cause of the jea lomy w i t hwhich t he Sout hei -n peOpIe are regr

ri ed ES t he t act t ha t t hevStand bet w een t he amb i t ion of a cart ? and the gl i t t ering priz esof honor and emol zn z ent s and pa t ronage w hi ch t he cont ro l of

sir. tha t i f t hey could do so cons ist en t l y w i t h t he ir com mt iona l obl iga t ions our

people w ould w il'

dngi y st and a loof andlet t he Nort hern people set t le t he ques t ion of President for

themse lves . upon t he cond i t ion t ha t there shal l be no furt her

int erven t ion in t heir loca l affairs. But . t h canno t abn e

ga t e the ir right s and dut ies as American ci t iz ens and impose on

t hemse lves a sul l en and inac t ive t hey must go forw ard and keep abre ast w i t h America n progress and Amer

ica n des t iny . and t ake thei r sha re Of the respons ib il i t y in t he

set t lemen t of the quesdons in w hich al l pa rts of t he count ry are

a l ike in t erest ed .

But it is asked w hy w e are un i t ed in support of the Democra t ic part y . A celebra t ed aut hor in his w ork on pol i t i ca l

et hi cs sa vs t ha t in the hist ory of a ll free count ries t here is no

inst ance of a peop le be ing una n imous in sent imen t and act ion .

un less they w ere made so by the imminence of some grea t andcommon peri l or bv the inspi ra t ion of some en thusias t ic sent i

The people of t he Sout h are not moved by t he la tt er. Even

i f the event s of t he w ar and the sufferi ngs since the w ar had

not , as t hev have done . crushed out a l l thei r part y a t tachmen ts.

nea rly one - ha lf t he people of the Sout h have no a t t achmen t

to the Democra t ic party ; and in act i ng w it h it for the t ime


be ing, they only obey, as I sa id before , the imperious l aw of

sel f - preservation .

The motive wh ich prompts their cooperation is not the expect a t ion of filling cabinets and directing policies, but simplyto get an admin istrat ion which will not be un friendly to them ;an admin istra tion which, in place of the appliances of force,subjuga tion , and domination,

will give them amnesty, restoration to t he privileges of American cit i z enship ; which willaccord to their States the same equa l rights with other Statesin thisUn ion—equal ity of consideration , equality of authority,and jurisdiction over their ow n a ffa irs—e qua lity, sir, in ex

emption from the domina tion of their elections by the bayonetand by soldiers as the irresistible instruments of the revolting loca l despotism. Give them that, give them loca l sel f - government

, and you w i ll then see a t last wha t will be the daw nof prosperity in a l l the industries and enterprises of t he North ;you will see, sir, a true Southern rena issance

,a rea l grand re

construction of the South in a l l the elements of socia l order,Strength, justice, and equa lity of a l l her people. R ising fromher con fusion and d istress, rejoicing in her newly recoveredl iberty, prosperous, free, great, her sons and daughters of

every race happy in her smile, she will greet your benignantRepublic in the words of the inspired poet

Thy gentleness hath made me grea t .

ON REFUSING TO OBEY INSTRUCTIONS

Speech delivered in t he Un i t ed Sta t es Sena t e. February 1 5 , 1 878.

MR . PRESIDENT z—Between these resolutions and my con

vict ions there is a great gulf . I cannot pass it . Of my love tothe State of Mississippi I will not speak ; my li fe a lone can tellit. My gratitude for a l l the honor her people have done me no

words can express. I am best proving it by doing tod ay whatI think their t rue interests and their character require me to do .

During my li fe in tha t State it has been my privilege to assistin the education of more than one genera tion of her youth, tohave given the impulse to wave a fter wave of t he young manhood that has passed into the troubled sea of her socia l and

ou a l l ot he r and. as I bel ie ve. even more importa nt a ibject s,

t heir present, deci sion w ha t i t ma y . I kn ow t ha t the t ime is ne t

far d'

S t a nt w h en t hey w i l l recogn i z e my ac t ion to-d a y as w ise

and just ; and. armed w it h honest convict ions of my dut y . I

sha ll calmly aw a it re: t s .be lieving in t he ut t era nces of a gre a t

Ameri ca n w ho never t rus t ed h is country in va in. tha t

“

truth is

(minim and public just ice cert a in.

”

REPUBLICAN POL ICY . AND THE SOL ID SOUTH

Speechdel ivered in t

h e Un i t ed Sta tes Sena t e. Apex“. l . 1 33 1 .

MR . PRES IDENT,w hy Should t he Sol id Sout h be broken . es

pecia l ly w hen it i s to be done by t he gras t sa crifi ce of principl e

which

w ethink this coa lit ion involves ? H as not the Repub l i

can pa rty the possession of al l t he depa rtments of t he governmentand nea rly a l l of the great States of t he Nort h

? \Vhence ,

then ,the danger from the solid South ?

What harm has

“the Solid South

”done to the prosperity

and glory of this country ? It is but a short time Since it be



South in i t s councils, are facts tha t are coex istent even i f theydo not susta in to each other the relat ion of cause and effect . I

say tha t i t s presence here has been a t least no hindrance to thenationa l prosperity, and there fore does not justi fy t he greatRepublican pa rty of this Senate in stepping dow n from i ts highpedesta l of na tiona l honor to take w ith in i t s embrace th is castofi

'

element of the Southern Democra cy.

There is in the ex istence of the solid South and i t s presencehere no such menace to any interest in this country as can justi ty or excuse t he coa lition here proposed.

t t t

But , Mr. President, it is not true that there is, as a distinctorgani z a tion with a distinctive policy any sol id South,

”in t his

chamber or in the other. There is no such el ement here as a

factor in legisla tion . You cannot point to any pa rt of the legislation of this country which represents the view s or the purpose of Southern Senators as a solid body. There is a greaterdiversity of sentiment among them upon every subject of nat iona l interest than there is in t he representa tion of any othersection of the country. I could give illustration a fter illustration . Mv friend from Ind iana [Mr. Voorhees] this day standsin closer affi liation upon the subject of t he currency with theSenator from Texas than he does w ith any of h is neighborsacross the line of h is ow n State . I could give measure a ftermeasure in which it w ill be show n that t he affi nities of politica laffi liation and l egi slative cooperat ion are in no sense of the termsectiona l in this body, and that the Southern men exhibit ava riety and a diversity and a freedom and an independence inthei r views and sentiments and actions which are show n amongSena tors from no other section of t he country .

There is one point , and one only, upon w hich they are solid ,on which they will rema in sol id ; and ne ither Federa l bayonetsnor Federa l honors will dissolve tha t solidity. They are solidin defense of and for the protection of their ow n civi li z a tion ,

thei r ow n society, their ow n religion . aga inst the rule of the incompetent , the servile , t he ignorant , and the vicious.

I w ill now submit a proposit ion to the Senators on t he

other side on this point . I am not go lug mto t he history of thecauses which led to a solid South ; but I here cha l l enge any


Sena tor upon that side, with two except ions, that I will notname , to w rite fa irly in his ow n language the condition of theSouthern people in any Sta te w hile under ca rpetbag government . I w il l consent that he sha ll write the history of thatgovernment, the character of i t s offi cia ls, the nature of i t s ad

min istrat ion ,and the opera tion of i t s laws. I say tha t I w i ll

consent for any Senator upon tha t side of the House , w ith buttw o ex cept ions (w hom, out of respect to them, I wi ll notname ) , to write the history of the Republican government inthe South, i t s na ture, i t s character, i t s influence upon the happiness and prosperity of tha t people . I w ill agree to accept h isdescription of it in his ow n language ; and then I will submitthe question to any tribunal in t he w orld, to any community inthe world , as to whether there is anywhere on ea rth a peoplewho ought not to summon every energy , every man , everywoman , every child, interested in the priceless and preciousheritage of human ity, to throw off that government and tokeep un ited and solid to prevent i t s reést abl ishment .

Mr. President, I am too much exhausted to deta in the Senate longer. I have sa id nothing to - day that w as intended tostir up any feeling of an imosity betw een individua ls or sections. I belong to tha t class of public men w ho were seces

sion ist s. Every throb of my heart w as for the disun ion ofthese Sta tes. I f tha t deducts from the force of the statementsthat I have made to - day , it is due to candor and to you to admitit. I con fess that I believed in the right of secession and thatI believed in t he propriety of i t s exercise . I will say furtherthat it w as a cherished conception of my mind ; that of tw ogreat free Republics on this continent, each pursuing i t s ow n

destiny and the destiny of i ts people and their happiness ac

cording to i t s ow n will .But , sir, that conception is gone ; it is sunk forever out of

sight . Another one has come in i t s place ; and, by the w ay , it ismy first love . The elements of it were planted in my hea rt bymy fa ther, they w ere taught by my mother, and they werenourished and developed by my ow n subsequent reflection .

May I tell youwha t it is, sir? It stands before me now , simplein i t s majesty and sublime in i ts beauty. It is that of one


grand, mighty, indivisible Republic upon this continent, throwing i t s loving a rms around a l l sections, omnipotent for protection, powerless for oppression, cursing none, blessing al l !

ON THE UNVEILING OF THE CALHOUNMONUMENT

Ext racts from an Ora t ion delivered a t Charleston , South Carolina. Apri l 26, 1 887.

IN the early history of our Republic tw o differing pow erswere in the presence of each other ; the principle of loca l StateSovereignty and tha t of Nationa l Un ion . Al though both of

these powers were to be found in the embryo of our politica lsystem, they ex isted in con fusion and w ithout precise lega ldefinit ion, both having cla ims to urge and facts to a llege insupport of their respective pretension to supremacy. The principle of State sovereign ty w as the first brought into operation ,

and therefore preceded the other in lega l recognition and actua lpredominance . Previous to the Decla ra tion of Independence ,the colon ies were each a distinct politica l commun ity ; each hadi t s ow n sepa rate politica l organ i z ation, the legislation of whichextended no farther than it s ow n territoria l limits. The onlypolit ica l bond which held them in un ion w as the sovereignty ofthe British nation . When they threw that off t he Sta tes hadno common government . The genera l sovereignty over themas a whole d isappeared and ceased to ex ist

, a t least in visibleand legal embodiment of organi z ed power, and passed into thesevera l Sta tes, which had become each independent and sovereign in i t s ow n right . The constitut ion w as framed by delega tes elected by the Legislatures. I t w as t he work of the sovereign States, as independent, separate commun ities. I t w as

ratified by conventions of these separate States, each acting foritsel f . By this constitution certa in well - defi ned and specifiedpow ers w ere delegated to t he Federal Government but it ex

pressly declared that the powers not herein delegated to t heUn ited Sta tes by the constitution , nor prohibited to the Sta tes ,are reserved to the States respectively, or to t he people.

”

I f the constitutiona l history of the United States had stopped with t he adapt ion of the Federa l Constitution by the origina l thi rteen States, it would hardly be questioned tha t this gov



After the adopt ion of the constitution, the mora l , socia l,and ma teria l forces which have a lways been more powerful inmold ing the institutions, in determining t he destinies of nations,than externa l lega l forms, combined to increase the power andmagni fy the importance of t he genera l government of t heUnion a t the expense of that of the pa rticula r government ofthe Sta tes. When independence w as first achieved the origi na lSta tes lay stretched a long the Atlantic coast, sparsely peopled,separa ted by vast wildernesses, with no means of interna l communica t ion and trade, ex cept by stages, pack horses, and sumpter mules on land, and fi a tboa t s, ra fts, and bateaus on the

wa ter. Since then t he locomotive and t he steamboa t not onlyann ihila te distance, but ,

“ like enormous shuttlecocks, shootacross the thousand various threads,

”of d isconnected sections,

loca lities, interests, and influences, and bind t hem into a w eb ;

while the electric telegraph transmits to every pa rt of the count ry , a t the same moment , the same intelligence, thus uniting theminds of a vast population in the same thought and emotion .

“

But a cause more potent than any yet mentioned has Opera ted to determine the cha racter and tendency of our polit ica lsystem. I refer to the acquisit ion by the Federa l Governmentof the vast territory embraced in t he Louisiana purchase and

that ceded by Spa in and Mex ico to the United States. Theseterritories, far ex ceed ing in a rea tha t of the origina l thirteenStates, belonged ex clusively to the Federa l Government )“ No

separa te State Government had t he slightest jurisd iction uponone foot of the so il of that vast doma in . The public lands weresurveyed by offi cers of the Federa l Government, and titles tothem were conveyed by the Federa l Governmen t in i t s charact er of private proprietor as well as of public sovereign . The

popula tion w ho settled these territories had no politica l rightssave those impa rted to them by the Federa l Government .Their very limited powers of sel f - government were enjoyed under territorial constitutions fram ed and prescribed for them bythe Federa l Congress ; and when they became States it w as byt he perm ission of Congress, w h ich admitted them under suchcondit ionsand terms as it deemed proper under the constitution .

‘ The grea t Nort hwest Terri tory. t hen a wi lderness. out of which powerful st a tes

have been subsequen t ly formed. w as ceded by Virginia to t he Uni t ed Sts t es before theConst i tut ion w as adopt ed.


It is true tha t as soon as these new States were admitted theyshared equa l ly w ith the origina l States in t he genera l sovcreigh pow ers of the w hole and the sovereign ty reserved toeach ; but while this w as true in constitut iona l theory, the actua l historica l fact w as that w hen the forces which had been so

long agita ting the country culminated in w ar, the relation ofthe States to the Federa l Government had become a lmost thereverse of what it w as a t the birth of the Republic . In 1 789t he Sta tes w ere the creators of the Federa l Government ; in1 86 1 t he Federa l Government w as the creator of a large majori t y of the States. I n 1 789 the Federa l Government had derived a l l the pow ers delegated to it by the constitution fromthe States ; in 1 86 1 a ma jori ty of the States derived a l l thei rpowers and a ttributes as States from Congress under theconstitution .

In 1 789 the people of the Un ited States were citi z ens ofSta tes origina lly sovereign and independent ; in 1 86 1 a vastma jori ty of t he people of the United States were citi z ens ofSta tes tha t w ere origina lly mere dependencies of the Federa lGovernment , w hich w as the author and giver of their politica lbe ing. With a l l these forces on the side of the Un ion , backedby a majority of State governments, with their reserved powers, with a very great preponderance of popula tion,

resources,and w ea lth, it w as a natural consequence that the unity and

integrity of the United States as a sovereign nation shouldbe established on the battlefield ; tha t i t s government shouldcome out of t he confl ict w ith a prestige and power greaterperhaps than any on ea rth, and tha t the eleven minority States,a fter a resistance as heroic as any recorded in the anna ls ofGreece and Rome, should succumb to overwhelming forces.

It is not necessary here to go over the policy of reconst ruct ion. It w as the offspring of misconception and distrust oft he Southern people . I t s theory w as tha t the Federa l successin arms over the South w as on ly a partia l one ; tha t the sen

t iment s, passions, and a ims of t he Southern people were still,and would continue to be , rebellious to the authority and hostile to t he policy of the nation ; that, the termina tion of thew ar having put an end to the absolute milita ry control , itbecame necessary to substitute another organ i z ation which,though not purely military, would be no less effectua l in i t s


function of repression and force. I t s unmistakable purposew as the reversa l of every na tura l, socia l , and politica l relat ionon which I will not say tha t t he civili z a tion of the South, butof t he world and of the whole Un ion, rested. But in processof time a large portion of the dominant section saw , not onlythe od ious injustice of the system fastened upon t he South,but the danger to the whole coun try which i t s ma intenancethrea tened. Then followed a course of magnanimi ty on the

pa rt of the Northern people unexampled in the anna ls of civilw ar and accepted by t he South in a spi rit not less magnan imousand great - hea rted . The result w as the full and equa l restoration of the Southern States , w ith a l l the ir rights under theconstitution, upon the one condition tha t they would recogn i z e,as elements of their new politica l li fe, the va lidity of the thirt eenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth amendments to the const i tu

t ion,guaranteeing and establishing t he indissolubility of the

American Union and t he universa lity of American freedom.

The disfranchisements and disqua l ifi ca t ions imposed in an hourof passion and excitement upon a mistaken theory of publicnecessity, and unwisely reta ined from a lingering prejudice anddistrust , have been in the main removed, or have ceased toapply to the majority of the Southern popul ation. Thosew hich yet rema in on t he sta tute book are ha rdly de fended bythe public sentiment of the Nort hern States , and must ere longbe offered upon the a ltar of the free and equa l citi z enship oft he Republic.

From tha t time w e have seen those States, by thei r fa ithful adherence to this pledge, stead i ly advancing year by yea r,in the ir right of sel f - government , taking their place with la rgernumbers and w ider influence in the councils of t he na tion , and

doing a l l this with a temper, modera tion , and pa triotism thatare fast commanding a genera l belief among the mass of t heNorthern people tha t the full and equal presence of the South ,accord ing to the measure of her popula tion and resources inevery depa rtment of the government , so far from being a

danger to t he na t iona l securi ty, is a contribut ion to i t s highestand best interests.

I have prefaced w hat I have to say of Mr. Ca lhoun withthis brief sketch of the controversy in which he bore a pa rt ,because I believe i f he w ere here to - day and could see h is ow n


MIRABEAU B . LAMAR

[m s—1 859]

A . W . TERRELL

THE career of M irabeau B . Lamar—the pa triot , soldier, statesman,

and poet—w as one of the most remarkable in h istory. He w as

descended from a French Huguenot, w ho, a fter the destruction ofLa Rochelle in 1 628, found refuge in America. Lamar w as bornin Georgia , in 1 798, and there he grew to manhood a fter acquiringonly a good common school educa tion, for he w as more fond ofhunt ing, fencing, and horseback ex ercise than t he confinement ofthe class- room . But he del ighted in reading the ancient cla ssicsand standard Engl i sh authors, and thus a cquired so correct a know ledge of the structure of h is ow n language tha t few ex celled h im as

an elegant and forceful speaker.I first saw Genera l Lamar in 1 853, w hen his long, j et- black ha ir

w as t inged w i th gray ; he w as of dark complex ion and about five feett en inches ta ll, w i th broad shoulders, deep chest, symmetri ca l l imbs,and under h is h igh forehead blue eyes looked out in ca lm repose.H is clean - cut, handsome fea tures spoke of high resolve and indomit able w i ll.When tw enty - e ight years old he marri ed M i ss Tabi tha Jourdan,

to w hom he w as tenderly devoted, for he had loved and courted herfor years, and her dea th, w h i le yet in the bloom of youth and beauty,so overw helmed h im w i th grie f tha t he le ft Georgia—a homelessw anderer.

In 1 835 Lamar w as nex t heard from on the frontier of Tex as,w here, l ike Sam Houston,

he appea led to the settlers w i th impassioned eloquence to revolt aga inst the tyranny of Mex ico. Therew as a strange parallel in the l ives of these tw o great men. Each ofthem, w hen crushed by domestic affliction , fled from home and fri ends.(Houston rema ined for a time among t he Cherokee Indians, w herehe became a ch ief. ) Each emerged from sel f- imposed ex i le to advo

cate on a foreign soi l the cause of civi l freedom ; each became commander of a revolutionary army, and then President of a new Re

public ; each rema ined unmarri ed during a l l the fierce struggle ofthe Texas Revolution“ ; and each found a t last in married l i fe hissupreme happiness w i th w i fe and ch i ldren.

“Sam Houston remained a widower for eleven years and Mr. Lamar for seven teen

y ea rs.


On March 6, 1 836, the Alamo at San Antonio w as stormed byan invad ing army under Santa Anna , the President of Mex ico, anda l l i t s defenders w ere massacred : a few days a fterw ard one hun

dred and seventy - five volunteers w ere butchered in cold blood at

Gol iad by h is orders, and a fter the ir surrender.

Tw o w eeks a fterw ard Lamar appeared aga in on the coast ofTex a s

,a t the abandoned tow n of Vela sco, and started on foot to

join t he Tex as army. Houston ,i t s commander, had ha lted in hi s

retrea t on the Bra z os R iver, and l ike a l ion a t bay w as w a iting and

w a tch ing for the hour of vengeance. When the Alamo fel l hew arned t he ci ti z ens of Gon z a les to leave the tow n , and w ith lessthan four hundred men began h is retrea t. The tow n w as burneda t n ight and the w omen and ch i ldren fled ea stw ard, their road l ightedby the conflagra t ion of their abandoned homes . Colon i sts flocked toreen force the retreating army, but such an army ! for they hadnei ther quarterma ster, nor commi ssary stores, ordnance nor transport a t ion ; the ir only equ ipment w as theirflint - lock hun ting rifles and

pow der horns ; they w ere w i thout un i forms ; their garments w ereof buckskin or homespun cloth , and many of them w ore coon - skincaps. In that l i ttle army w as the only hOpe for Tex a s ; the entirecountry d id not then conta in over five thousand grow n men , a l l told.

‘

But no mercenary soldier w as in the ranks ; a l l w ere men of thefrontier w ho had been accustomed to danger, and not a hunter int he ranks w ho w ould have hesitated to w a lk in ,

kn i fe in hand, tofree h is hound from the hug of the bear.

Colonel Fann in , w ho w as butchered a t Gol iad, had been the bosomfri end of Lamar, w ho, after securing a horse, enl i sted as a priva teand w as eager to revenge h is murdered friend.

On Apri l 20, 1 836, Houston’s army, a fter a forced march of tw o

days and a n ight, w i th no other food than parched corn ,con fronted

on t he smooth pra irie of San Jancinto the army of Santa Anna ,w h ich outnumbered them tw o to one . Tha t a fternoon Wa lter P.

Lane 'l'

,w hi le skirmi shing, w as a tt acked by three Mex ican lancers

,

w ho w ounded h im as h is horse fell ; Lamar rushed to hi s rescue, andki ll ing one of the enemy put t he others to flight

,though w ounded

h imsel f. The Tex a s in fantry from the ir ranks saw the heroic act

and shouted their admira tion . He had w on h is Spurs, and Houstona t once put h im in command of the cava lry, w i th the approva l of a l li t s officers.The nex t a fternoon, a t four o’clock, the Tex as in fantry, a t 3

’Such i s t he est ima t e of t he popula t ion given to t he wri t er by Honorable John H .

Reagan and ot her colon ists w ho had by revolt defi ed Mexico wi t h her eight mi l lion :of people .

fLa ne aft erward w as a brigadier- genera l in t he Con federa t e Army.


T a m ar-

L u i s“ m m m m h n k

!m i m nn z m i n fz nim g z m m t n '

t E M vm m fim z l m-

Tfi z m u g

i t'

iq n mr r. - m ; ugem 3cm z c n s m -

rfm ¢ n

PROTEST AGAINST ru m G SANTA ANNA

and act s upon the rev-s i z ing p : of ent-

t erm “ on; and t apim

he forfei ts t he cormri sera t ion of ma nkind by sink ing t he char

act er of the hero int o t ha t of the abhorred murderer. The

MIRABEAU B. LAMAR 2991

President of Mexico has waged such a w ar upon the citiz ensof this Republic—he has caused to be published to the worlda decree, denouncing as pirates beyond the reach of h is clemency a l l w ho sha ll be found ra llying around the standard of

our independence . In accordance with this decree he has

turned over to the sword the bravest and best of our friendsand fellow citi z ens a fter they had grounded their arms, underthe most solemn pledge that their lives should be spared . He

has fired our dwellings ; layed waste our luxuriant fields ;excited servile insurrectionary w ar ; violated plighted fa ith,and inhumanely ordered the cold blooded butchery of prisoners who had been betrayed into capitulation by hea rt lessprofessions. Instinct condemns him as a murderer, and reasonjustifies the verdict—nor should the end of justice be avertedbecause of the exa lted sta tion of the crimina l, or be made togive w ay to t he suggestions of interest or any cold consid

erat ions of policy. He w ho sacrifices human li fe a t t he shrineof ambition is a murderer and deserves the punishment andinfamy of one. The higher the offender, the greater reasonfor i t s infl iction . I am therefore of the opin ion tha t Genera lSanta Anna has forfe ited his li fe by the highest of a l l crimes,and is not a suitable object for the exercise of the pa rdoningpreroga tive .

It w ould read well in the future anna ls of the presentperiod that the first act of this young Republic w as to teachthe Ca ligulas of the age that in t he administra tion of publicjustice the vengeance of the law fell a like impa rtia lly on the

prince and the peasant. It is t ime such a lesson should betaught t he despots of this ea rth ; they have too long enjoyedan exemption from the common pun ishment of crime.

Throned in power they banquet on the li fe of man and thenpurchase security by t he dispensation of favors. W e are si t

ting in judgment upon t he li fe of a stupendous vi lla in ,w ho

like a l l others of h is race hopes to escape the blow of meritedvengeance by the strong appea ls which his exa lted station eu

ables him to make to the weak and selfish principles of ourna ture . Sha ll our resentment be propitiated by promises, orsha ll w e move sternly onward to the infl iction of a righteous

punishment ?Do you hesitate ? I entrea t you to consider the character


of those w hose death w e are ca lled upon to avenge. Theywere no mercenary soldiers—no hired men ia l s : they were ornament s to the land they left—the flow ers of honor and the

pride of chiva lry . The history of w ar cannot furn ish a noblerband of pa triotic heroes than those who ra llied a round t hestanda rd of Fann in . I knew many—very many of them per

sona l ly and can testi fy to the ir generous spirits. A braver

people never hung the sabre on the thigh . In tha t da rk and

portentious period of our a ffa irs, when t he tempest of desolation w as thickening over the land, they nobly threw themselves between t he oppressor and the oppressed and madetheir bosoms the sh i elds of our liberty, and our fi resides.

Their banners are torn and the ir bayonets broken . And whereis the ga llant Batta lion ? Go ask the tyrant w here ! He w ho

ca lmly sits in the shade of yonder piaz z a as i f h is bosombore a l l peace within can tell you i f he w ill that it w as byauthority of h is order tha t the Spa rtan band under the hopeof liberty and home w as marched from the holy Sanctuaryof God to the aw ful slaughter - fi eld ; he can tell you tha t whilsth is brave Genera l Urea and h is w hole a rmy w ept a t the sterndecree , himsel f a lone rejoiced a t the roa r of the musquet ry ,

tha t sta ined the pla in of L a Bahia and spread the horrid banquet to the bird of carnage . There is a t least one in thecouncils of this republ ic w ho is mindful of the vengeance dueher ga llant sons, and w ho will not forego i t s payment even fora na tion’s w ea l—I cannot and wil l not compromise with a

crimson - handed murderer.


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

How brilliant is the morning star !The evening sta r, how tender !

The light of both is in her eye,Their softness and their splendor.

But for the lash that shades their lightThey were too da z z l ing for the sight ;And when she shuts them, a l l is night

The daughter of Mendoz a .

0! ever bright and beauteous one,Bewildering and beguiling,

The lute is in thy silvery tones,The ra inbow in thy smiling.

And thine is, too, o’er hill and dell ,

The bounding of the young ga z elle,The a rrow’

s flight and ocean’s swel lSweet daughter of Mendoz a !

What though, perchance , w e meet no moreWhat though too soon w e sever ?

Thy form will floa t like emera ld light,Before my vision ever.

For w ho can see and then forgetThe glories of my gay brunette ?Thou art too bright a star to setSweet daughter of Mendoz a !

IN LIFE’S UNCLOUDED , GAYER HOURTo a Lady in Houston , Texas.

I

In li fe’s unclouded, gayer hour,I bowed to beauty’s sway ;

I felt the eye’s despotic power,And trembled in i t s ray ;

But beauty now no more en thra llsI t s magic spell hath flow n

Upon my hea rt it coldly fa lls,L ike moonlight on a stone.

MIRABEAU B. LAMAR 2995

I I

The chords of feeling soon were broke,Where love delighted played ;

Afll ict ion dea lt too rude a stroke,And al l in ruin la id ;

Yet , lady fa ir, there w as a timeI might have worshipped thee ;

Thy beauty would have been the shrineOf my idolatry.

I I I

Tha t t ime is past, and I am leftA sad sojoum er here

Of hope, of joy, of a l l bereft,Tha t makes existence dea r.

Despa ir hath o’er my bosom castThe gloom of starless night

A darkness which through li fe mustUnpierced by beauty

’s light .

THE SEASONS

I

The Spiri t of Spring, from the regions ofBrought music, and odor, and a l l that w as brightBut va in were the blessings—they shed no delightOn the heart that lay locked in a Lapland night.

IIThe Spiri t of Summer then came with a glow ,

And wa rmth on the beauties of Spring did bestow ;But al l of the sunshine ne

’er melted the snow

That fell on the heart in the Winter of w o.

I I I

The Spiri t of Autumn now chills with i ts wingThe blushes of Summer and beauties of SpringBut light is the mischief i t s breez es may fling,Compared to the ruin tha t sorrow can bring.

IV

The Spiri t of I i'

in ter w il l come very soon .

On t he w ings of a cloud tha t sha l l dark en the noon,

More w e lcome to me t han perenn ia l b loom.

For the frow n of the st orm is the typc of my gloa n .

CARMEL ITA

I

O Ca rme lita , know ye not

For w hom a l l hea rts are pining?

And know ye not , in Beaut y'

s sky ,

The brigh t est plane t sh ining?

Then lea rn i t now—for t hou art she,

Thy na t ion ’

s jew el . born to be

By a l l beloved . but most by me

O DONNA Cu rt a i n s !

II

But w o is me thy love to lose,Apart from thee abid ing ;

Bet w een us roa rs a gloomy stream,

Our dest iny divi d ing.

That stream w i t h blood inca rnadined ,

Flow s from thy na t ion'

s crring mind,And rolls w i t h ruin to thy kind,

0 DONNA Cm m rn !

I I I

’Tis mine, w hile floa ting on t he t ide,TO stick to love and duty ;

I draw my sabre on the foe,

I strike my ha rp to beauty ;And w ho shal l say the soldier

'

s w rong,

\Vho, w hi le he ba t t les w ith t he st rong,

Sti ll softens w ar w it h gen t le song,0 Donn a CARMEL ITA ?



THE RULING PASSION

Alas ! in al l the human race,W e may some ruling passion traceSome monarch - feeling Of the breast,That reigns supreme o

’er a l l the rest .

With some, it is the love Of fameA restless and disturbing flame,Which still incites to deeds sublime,Whether Of virtue or Of crime .

With others,’t is the lust of gold

Sad ma lady Of rooted hold,Which closer round t he bosom twines,As virtue d ies and li fe declines.

With many,’t is the love of pleasure

A madness without mete or measure,Which never fa ileth, soon or late,TO plunge i t s vota ries in the fateOf thoughtless flies in comfi t s caughtDying ’mid sweets too rashly sought.But woman, always good and bright,Grea t Nature’s pride and earth’s del ight ,What is this mona rch Of thy soulThis tyrant Of supreme control ,Tha t tramples w ith despotic forceAl l other feelings in i t s courseThou needst not speak—thou needst not tell,For a l l who know thee know it wellW e read it in that downcast eye,W e learn it from that stifled sigh,W e see it in the glow ing blushTha t gives thy check i t s rosy flush ;And though compelled , by shame and pride,Deep in thy hea rt i t s sw ay to hide,Still do w e know it as a fi re

Which onl y can w ith li fe expireSole inspiration Of thy worth,And source Of a l l that’s good on earth .

0 Love ! a l l - conquering and divine,W e know where thou hast bui lt thy shrine.

MI RABEAU B . LAMAR 2999

GIVE TO THE POET HIS W ELL - EARNED PRAISEWri t t en on the Prospect of Ba t t le. Inscri bed to Genera l E . B . Nicholas.

I

Give to the poet his well - ea rned pra ise,And the songs of h is love, preserve them

Encircle his brows with fadeless bays,The ch i ldren Of gen ius deserve them ;

But never to me such pra ises brea the,TO the minstrel - feeling a strangerI only sigh for the laurel - wreathTha t a pa triot wins in DANGER.

Speed, speed the day when to w ar I hie !

The fame of the fi eld is inviting ;Be fore my sword sha l l the foemen fly,Or fa ll in the flash Of i t s lightning.

Away with song, and away with cha rms !Insulted Freedom’

s proud avenger,I bear no love but t he love Of arms,And the bride tha t I w oo is DANGER.

III

When sha ll I meet the audacious foe,Face to face where the flags are flying

I long to thin them,

“

tw o at a blow,

”

And ride o’er the dead and the dying !My sorrel steed sha ll h is fetlocks sta inI n the bra in of t he hostile stranger ;With an iron heel he spurns the plai n,And he brea thes full and free in DANGER.

IV

W hen victory brings the wa rrior rest,R ich the rewards of ma rtia l duty

The thanks Of a land with freedom blest,And the smiles Of i ts high- born beauty.

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Doss victory fa i l—enough for me,Tha t I fa l l not to fame a st ranger

H is name shal l rol l w i th e terni tyW

'

ho fi nds the foremost grave in DANGER.

MONODY

I

Oft w hen the sun al ong the w est

H is fa rew ell splendor throw s,Imparting to the w ounded brea stThe Sp irit of repose

My mind reverts to former themes ,

To joys of other days,When love i l lumined a l l my drea ms,And hope inspired my lays.

II

I would not for the world bereaveFond Memory of those times,

When sea ted here a t summer eve,I poured my ea rly rhymes

To one whose smi les and tea rs procla imedThe triumph Of my art ,

And pla inl y told, the minstrel reignedThe mona rch Of her hea rt .

Enriched with every men ta l grace,And every mora l w orth ,

She w as the gem Of her bright race,A pa ragon on earth ;

So luminous wi th love and lore,SO little dimmed by shade ,

Her beauty threw a light beforeHer footsteps as she strayed.



VIII

I f I have sought the festa l hal l,My sorrows to begui le,

Or struck my harp a t lady’s ca ll,In pra ise Of beauty

’s smile

Oh, still thou didst my thoughtsAmid the smiling throng ;

Thou wert the idol Of my soul,The spirit of my song.

IX

Take, take my rhyme, O ladies gay,For you it freely pours ;

The minstrel’s hea rt is far awayI t never can be yours.

The music of my song may beTO living beauty shed,

But a l l the love tha t wa rms the stra inI mean it for the dead.

ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE

CHARLOTTE NEW ELL

RS . EL INOR MACARTNEY LANE died in Lynchburg, V irgin ia , on the six teenth Of March , 1 909, a t the close of about

forty - five years Of a l i fe unusua lly, a lmost un iquely, interesting.

Born of I ri sh parents on the gen ia l soi l of southern Maryland, shecharm ingly embodied the w armth, vivaci ty, and spontane i ty Of her

ancesiry and her na tivi ty. Strongly Southern she w as in her t en

dencies and her sympathies, ever eager to discern and to pay homageto the graciousness and hospi ta l i ty Of the sons and daughters oftha t land.

Most Of her early l i fe w as spent in Washington, D C , w here she

attended the publ ic schools, from w h ich , supplemented by the Norma lSchool, she w as graduated in 1 882. She taught in these schoolsmost of the time unti l her marriage, in 1 89 1 , to Dr. Francis Ransom Lane, a t tha t time principa l of t he Centra l H igh School,and subsequently director Of the systems of high schools in the

Nationa l Capi ta l. The quickness of her intui tions w as evidenced byher conviction, a fter very short acqua intance w i th Dr. Lane, tha the w as the man destined and desired for her husband ; in fact, report afli rms tha t a single even ing w as sufi cient to establish tha t

conviction.

Strange i t is tha t, w hi le E l inor Macartney w as ga in ing rapid

mastery Of the science Of ma thema tics and the teach ing thereof,she w as rapidly develop ing her marvelous imaginative gi fts. But ,

even as a ch i ld, she had proved hersel f a born story- teller, and on

account Of th is ta lent had been the del ight of her chi ldhood compan ions. Her Celtic temperamen t a lmost compelled her to be a

story - teller. An electric bond Of sympathy seemed to un i te thisbright, brave, versa ti le , exqui si tely cultured, Tw en ti eth - Centuryw oman w i th those dashing, daring, far- Ofl' ancestors, t he Springs Of

w hose tears and sm i les w ere in such close prox imi ty. For the

predominant characteristics Of the Old Celts w ere t he imaginativeand the emot ional , and in their imagination the love of story- tellingw as the possessing qual i ty. The Cel t saw the w orld bathed in

color, and felt i t s beauty in the moss- covered stone, the w aysideflow er, and in the delica te hues of the sunset clouds ; so, in truth,

3003


did our Celtic Southerner. In Mrs. Lane w ere exempl ified the

qua l i ties w hich have made story - tell ing a fine art in a l l ages. Ol d

Cynew ul f w ould have acknow ledged her racia l cla im ; t he East ernSchehera z ade w ould have found her a kindred spiri t, and far dow nt he centuries Wa l ter Scott w ould have revelled in her gi ft.Various ta les, ch iefly of Southern l i fe, w ere produced in her

girlhood , a l l of them evincing ex traordinary insight and fidel ity.Even in the ea rly days Of authorsh ip her bra in ch i ldren w ere , to her,rea l crea tures, because about them she thought and dreamed con

t inua l ly ; and w i th them she l ived and moved in closest commun ion.

From the beginn ing she man i fested t he rare pow er Of crea tingan atmosphere exactly and subtly suited to t he environment Of hercharacters, in w h i ch they fit ea si ly, natura lly. The reader is never

disturbed by the thought that they should be di fferen t ly Sphered ;

in fact , there i s no thought about t he ma tter, so admirably is themirror held up to na ture.

Mrs. Lane’s first novel , ‘The Mi lls of God,

’appeared in 1 901 ,

and a t once aroused t he most ardent commenda tion and the mostbi tter censure. The heroine, a w oman of remarkable beauty and

w ondrous virtue, yields, Once, to a supreme tempta tion, and, relentlessly, ever a fterw ard, the mi lls grind her pun i shment. A story i t isof strong passion and fearful , inevi table retribut ion. Cri ti cs w arred,but meanw h i le readers multipl ied, and the author became famous.I n 1 904

‘Nancy Sta ir’ w as publ i shed, a story so ingen iously fitted

in hi storic framew ork as to dece ive man Of the elect. H istoriesand encyclopedias w ere searched by enthusia sti c readers to ga inadd itiona l know ledge Of Nancy, and numerous letters to Nancy’screa tor begged some clue to t he identi ty Of the Splendid, W insomew oman w ho had no

“ loca l hab itat ion ,” save in Mrs. Lane’s imagina

t ion , or, in some part iculars, in Mrs. Lane’s ow n fervent na ture.

And yet, Nancy’s crea tor did get hints of her in divers places andfrom divers people - a l i ttle chi ld in Wash ington ,

“Margaret Of QStreet,” a b i t here and a bi t there, un i ted by l inks of the author’sfa shioning, and colored and vivifi ed by her glow ing, t ransform ingpersona l i ty.

Mrs. Lane a lw ays ma inta ined tha t a fundamen ta l difference ex istsbetw een the ma scul ine and the fem in ine heart and m ind, and tha tthis di fference w i l l assert itsel f, no ma tter w hat surround ing conditions may be or w hat system of education employed. To demonstrate th is theory, she made Nancy’s mother d ie w hen the ch i ldw as an in fant, and had her man - tra ined ex clusively. Jock, Sandyand Hugh w ere her teachers, her compan ion s, h er oracles, and she

had absolute freedom from fem in ine influence. But the w oman’sna ture asserted i tsel f in Spi t e Of association and tra ining, and Nancy



a l ly these qua l ifi es are th ings dist inct ly apart. Her imaginat ion w as

capable of boldest flights, and her in tel lect kept pace. Al ert , cl ever,

bri ll iant in vary ing degrees w as i t—somet imes the gen ia l , spark

l ing repartee, del icious and vivi fying ; somet imes the deep thrust ,sca th ing but deserved, a imed for the most part aga inst sham and

hypocri sy.Though endow ed w i th such gi fts, she possessed the pa instak ing

sp iri t of the true artist i c cra ftsman. She studied plot devel opmen t ,considered adequa cy of mot ive, w eighed the va lue of w ords, and lostsight of no principle of l i terary mechanism. She w rote and t e - w roteher stories w i th conscientious and cri tica l pa t i ence, w ri ting on ly w hentruly moved by the spiri t and un influenced by the ambi t ion of appearing Often in print .Loyal ty w as her vi ta l brea th. I t i l lumines her w ork , radia t es

from a lmost every page, and bears to her friends messages of nouncerta in import.

“I’m no

’ so bonny,” sa id Alan in Ka t rine’s Ow nLand,

“but I

’m l ea ! to them I love.

” Throughout her w ri t ings, es

pecial ly her sw an - song, ‘

Ka trine,’ there runs, like a thread of purest ,precious gold, her arden t personal i ty, not ostenta tiously or even in

t ent iona l ly inserted, but an influence, indefinable, haunt ing, insistent .For yea rs, Mrs. Lane

’s brave, hope ful na ture had st ruggled

against severe physi ca l pa in, and so val iant ly had th i s bat t le beenw aged tha t those w ho knew her persuaded themselves that, somehow ,

her daunt less spiri t w ould a t la st conquer. So her death came as a

tragedy, hard to rea li z e, and hard to bear.

ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE 3007

A PAGE FROM LADY GRAFTON’S JOURNAL

From ‘Mi l ls of God.

’Copyright , 1 901 . D . Appleton and Company, and used here by

permi ssion of th e publishers.

’Tw As perhaps tw o O’clock of this same damned Friday

tha t the a ffa ir Of Henry Bedford and Miss Anne w as madeknown to my Lady Gra fton in the manner which I set downword for w ord , as it w as put into her journa l that same night .

“ I f I on ly can w rite it forth ! I f God w i ll only give mestrengt h to set it a l l dow n , it may ease this clutch a t my heart,which seems to be killing me minute by minute . I have feltthe change, a little a t a time, coming—coming ; but I deludedmysel f into the belie f it w as but tha t w e were both growingOlder. Th is a fternoon I sa t w ith my embroidery in t he grea twindow . My heart w as sore enough, God know s, becauseOf this new s Of Robin and Caddie Brow n . L i fe seemed so

strange, so unknow able, w hen from the music - room Anne

came. She w as a l l in white ; she had been in the conservatoryand had some sta lks of white flow ers in her hands, and as

she came tow ard me she wal ked through the sca ttered spotsOf colored light w hich lay on the floor from the sta ined glassOf the w indow s. Before she spoke , I knew—w e Irish havesomething, I believe , that other races have not—I knew myretribution w as a t hand . She sa t dow n beside me and sa idwith pretty thought fulness,

‘

You are not w ell,my beauti ful

cousin . You have a headache ? You don’t want to be bothered w ith me now ?

’

‘

You never bother any One, Anne,’ I answered ;

‘

you havegrown to be the sunshine Of the house .

’

‘I am going to tell you a long story ,

’she went on .

‘

I

w ant some advice. There is no one for me to come to, saveyou. There is none other to whom I would rather comethan you,

i f I had the choice Of the whole world. You are—so good—so fi ne—so true ! I w ant to be a woman just like

you some day , Cousin E linor.’She leaned over and kissed

my cheek, and I put my arm a round her, but she drew away.

‘

NO,

’she sa id ,

‘I w ant to tell this story out bravely ; notlean ing on any one.

’A flush came into her face like a ca rmine

rose .

‘It is Of my Lord Bedford I am going to speak .

’


I t is a good subject, I am sure,’ I sa id, and I forced my

eyes to rest in hers for a second.

‘It w as not ,’she went on,

‘

until the n ight of the dancethat I ever thought Of him much ; but tha t n ight before I wentto sleep I remembered his eyes as they looked when he bademe good - night . There w as sca rce a w ord passed betw een us

a fter tha t till the day you le ft us. I had been practising, whenhe suddenl y came to the window and ca lled me from the

porch . I smiled and shook my head . Two or three minutesla ter he came to t he inside door. There w as a look in hiseyes, a masterfulness in his manner, which I had never beforeseen. With a certa in sureness in his smile he fina lly brokeforth.

“ I f I were to tell you tha t I love you, Anne, whatwould you say ?

”

‘

Say’ I responded . I should say it were your very

duty, considering wha t a lovable person I am .

” I had no

thought but tha t he w as jesting.

“Ah ! you have been much Spoiled . You sha ll be disci

pl ined . It is I that sha ll be the instrument in t he hands of

Providence. I have come to take you for a wa lk.

”

“Ask me then ,

” I sa id,“

politely, w ith a touch Of ceremony, and as i f you thought I might refuse, perhaps. Then Imay go .

”

‘

H e came nearer to me and put forth h is hand . Come,he sa id .

‘

In tha t one word the change for a l l my life w as made.

I put down my violin and went w ith him, over by t he SunsetRocks.

‘There w as tha t haste about our courtship wh ich makesme w onder sometimes tha t I could have yielded so easily. I n

a week’s time You remember the grea t w a lnut - tree, CousinE linor ?’

“

The Old w a lnut - tree ! W as it there he t old his love ?

There, w here he kissed me first , and l i fe’s w a ter turned to

wine a t the miracle Of the touching Of his l ips !‘

The Ol d one by the brook ?’ I asked .

‘

Yes,it w as there . Dea r, I suppose no w oman rea l ly

te lls w ha t a man—the man she loves—says to her then , do

you? But it a l l happened there , and it w as there he told methe story Of his li fe’s tragedy. It is Of tha t I w ish to speak .



she continued .

‘

He has a t times wished to free himsel f ;that is no doubt the reason which has made him live so muchout of England, as it is there she lives. He told me a l l , keeping ba ck only names. He says that he has made vows to theot her woman which it will be hard to break ; but tha t he iswill ing, i f I think it best, to go to her and tell her a l l ; ask

for h is freedom ; speak Of h is love for me.

‘I have come to you, dear cousin, not on ly because I loveyou, but because I believe in your wisdom, and then, too, be

cause I think you love me a little, to ask you wha t you thinkwisest for us to do.

’

‘I see only one w ay . I f he has ceased to love the otherwoman, wha tever t ie there w as between them is a lready dissolved . There is naught for her to do but release him. It isthe spiri t tha t holds, not the letter. She can not bind him toher by cold - grow n vow s w hen his love for her is past .’

‘

You think it right ? He has made promises, too, CousinE linor.

’

‘

He can not fulfil them i f he loves another woman.

’

‘Have you know n Of this before ?’she asked, looking

searchingly a t me with those clea r eyes Of hers.

C

YCS .

’

‘

I s it know n general ly ?’‘

NO,there is, besides mysel f but one other this side Of

the At lantic w ho know s Of it a l l .‘

DO you know her?’

‘I have seen her.

’

‘

She is beauti ful ?’‘

She has been ca lled so, but youmust remember how longago this w as. She is Old enough to be your mother, child .

’

‘

You think, then , I have the right to accept him ?’

‘

Every right . I believe—nay , dea r, I know—I know, Ican speak for her—the other w oman w ould w ish it so.

’

‘May I kiss you, Cousin E linor ? Oh , do you know ,

’she

sa id, with the carmine roses coming back to her cheeks,‘do

you know wha t it is to love as I do ? When nothing in li feseems real but the touch Of one pa ir of hands, the look Ofone pa ir Of eyes, the sound Of one voice, when there is nothing—nothing but him ?’

“ I turned and took her in my a rms.

‘I have known ,Anne,

’

EL INOR MACARTNEY LANE 301 l

I sa id,‘believe me, I have known . It is that which makes

li fe beauti ful.’“W e kissed each other, and I came up here to be alone.

TO be a lone—a lone, with every fibre Of my being quiveringwith a great pa in , and memories that will not down . Oh

,for

the gi ft Of a large forgetting !“ I remember our first meeting.

‘I f I dream what I would,I pray to sleep forever.

’The apple orchard ! The time w e

pretended w e were boy and girl !‘When you grow up I am to marry you, you know,

’he

sa id, sitting above me on a bough Of an apple - tree, which w asa l l in bloom,

‘

and hurry up, because I can not wa it long.

’

And the two miserable years Of sepa ration, and the timew e met aga in a t the Stanley -Masons—O God ! God ! God ! i fyou see

, i f you can hea r me, give me back just three days ofmy li fe—just three mad,

headlong, passionate days !I remember one n ight w hen he came to my room. I w as

wa iting for him. I w ore a rose - coloured dressing- gown ,

which he had admired and w as standing by the west window.

‘

Come over here, he sa id, as he seated himsel f in the bigcha ir by the fi re .

‘

Come Over here . I am your tyrant, yourking. Take down your ha ir.’

I unbound my ha ir. ‘

Kneel to me ; turn your face up

tow ard mine. I do not like that thing up around your throa t—undo i t—so. You love me ? There is no other thoughtin li fe, no other memory, you see no other man with thosesoft eyes? There is not in your heart one bea t for any soulthat liveth, save for me ? I am—a l l—a l l ? Tell me so !

’

I have tried to be so good, but I see now it w as not rea l .There w as a lw ays the hOpe that some day I should have thereward Of be ing really his wife . I think this news has drivenme a bit da ft . The past w hirls through my bra in and I mustforget ; must have the courage to face the world with. Ilived when I believed him dead . I will try to think Of himaga in tha t w ay .

”

That same a fternoon ,during which Miss Anne had told

her story, she set forth on horseback. When she returnedLord Bedford w as riding beside her, and after they had dis


mounted they stood ta lking together on the steps, w i th themoon sh in ing full upon them both.

“When is i ts

to be ?” he asked .

When do you w ant it ?” Miss Anne inquired.

When do I w ant it ? Now . TO- night . Th is minute. Iw an t you, Anne !

”

“

As you make t he observe yoursel f sometimes, Lord Bedford,

‘It w i l l fa ll as it w i l l fa ll . ’ Good - n ight . ”“

Kiss me , Anne .

She lea ned towa rd him as though to comply, and then ,

suddenly throw ing back her head,she l aughed and sa id ,

“ It isa good thing for you to go a - w anting sometimes, my lord,

”

w ith which sage rema rk she turned and left him. It is thusshe has held h im ever since .

There is an interva l of four days before my lady wroteaga in in the journa l . The third day a fter this ta lk w ith MissAnne she had an interview with Lord Bedford, with w hom she

had commun ica ted .

I am tOO proud to show much feel ing to any one on the

subject of an unrequited a ffect ion ,and it w as this pride tha t

gave me a kind Of fortitude throughout the interview . LordBed ford came to see me, a t my ow n request , in the library . He

w a s pa le and h is eyes w ere lighter and less direct in theirglance than usua l . I smiled a t him as w e took each other’shands.

‘

Be seated ,’ I sa id.

‘

You are unhappy, you a re ill a tease

,be l ieve me, need lessly. I sha l l—ah , I hope you know me

w ell enough to feel tha t I sha ll not do as other w omen might .I see the inevitableness Of i t a l l . I have not changed . Thereis not tha t in my nature , I hope , w hich w ould make such a

change possible . I loved,love

,sha ll a lw ays love you. I w ant

you to know th is ; there is no ex cuse for me otherw ise . W i llyou believe me w hen I say ,

how ever, tha t I am glad for yournew happiness—tha t the new chance in your l i fe brings a finersort Of pleasure to my soul than I could have be lieved mysel f capable Of ? There need be no unnecessary w ords betw een us. I f there be any forgiveness from one to another,let us say it is freely granted , and so—good - bye .

’

‘

George,’Lord Bedford began , and I knew before he

spoke t he w ord it w as Of him he had been thinking.



themselves of admiration for such an ardent lover. Miss Anne,young and beauti ful, fearless Of the future, spoke her vow swith no t remor of t he voice, but gladly, rapturously gave hersel f into the keeping Of this man, w ho never, since my returnto Deepdeen, had once looked me in the eye. It w as bitt er tohim that I w as there. I knew it, and stood well in the light .The past w as whirling through my head as I listened to

the solemn words Of the ma rriage service . I remembered then ight Of the birth of Master George ; the l ittle but where w e

had stood together ; I wondered Of what Miss Anne w as thinking ; remembered the joy w e had fel t a t landing on that sadl ittle island ; but there w as neither continuity nor resul t in thesethoughts. Father Spofl‘ord paused a moment, and then

“Who giveth this woman to this man ?” he asked, and

my lady, w ho w as standing a l ittle apa rt, came slowly forwa rd. There w as a yellow sha ft Of the a fternoon sun whichhad struck into the room and made a pathway for her as she

came. She took Miss Anne’s hand in hers, and, placing it inHenry Bedford’s, in a voice low and firm, solemnly sa id,

“ Ido” ; and as she came back to her place beside me—I swearit solemnly on my honour—there w as a smile upon her lips,as i f L i fe’s grim humour had for the while overcome her sorrow , and she smi led at the Ways of Men.

ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE 301 5

NANCY VISITS HIS GRACE OF BORTHW ICKE

From ‘Nancy Sta ir.

’Copyright , 1 904, D . Appleton and Company , and used here by

permi ssion of the publishers.

DRESSED for the even ing, the duke w as a lone in h issitting- room

, attending to h is priva te correspondence, w hen heheard a rap a t the door.

“

Enter,”he ca lled, in a ca reless voice, thinking it one Of his

men.

Nancy li fted the latch and came forward into the room.

“The Duke Of Bort hw icke will pardon my intrusion, will

he not ?”she asked,

“

as w ell as my lack Of courtesy ? I w asa fra id h is grace might re fuse to see me i f I were announced tohim in the ordina ry manner. ”

Montrose had been writing a t an oaken table, on either sideOf w hich w as a bracket Of lights. At the sound Of the voicehe turned, and, a t the sight Of Nancy, he rose and stood lookinga t her as though she w ere an appa rition .

Many times since, in her description Of this interview,she

told me that she received from him an impression as thoughhe stretched forth h is hand and touched her. She sa id, as well,tha t the erectness of h is body and the fulness Of his chest gavehim the a ir Of a conqueror who w as invincible , while the

pa llor Of h is face and the glitter Of h is eye set him still furtherapa rt from anyth ing usua l .It seemed a full minute that they stood thus taking notes

openly of each other be fore she spoke aga in .

“ I am Nancy Sta i r,”she sa id quietly.

Ah,”the duke returned, coming forwa rd with a smile,

the verse -mak er“ I make verses, Nancy answ ered.

Which have given me more pleasure than I have the

power to tell,”the duke responded with a bow.

“ It is pra ise indeed coming from John Montrose, who isno mean poet himsel f, Nancy sa id with a smile.

“ I ,”the duke returned,

“am no poet, Mistress Sta ir ; but

I have a‘

spunk enough Of glee’ to enjoy the gi ft Of others.

”

“

One might think w ho overhea rd us, my lord duke,Nancy broke in with a laugh and the light Of humor in her


eyes by which she could make another smile a t any time, thatw e were coll egians having a cri tica l d iscussion. It w as not

concerning poetry tha t I came to you to- n ight,your grace .

It w as to ask a favor.“Pitca irn sa id you w ould come, the duke answ ered her

blandly, taking out h is w atch and looking a t it w ith a smile.

H e sa id you w ould come be fore you w ent to t he Duchess OfGordon’

s rout . H e even named t he exa ct time within a

quarter Of an hour. ”“Mr. Pitca irn is a very w onderful ma n ,

Nancy returned.

H e’s a poor hand a t descript ion ,

” responded the duke,with a hea t of admira tion for her in h is tone.

It depends somew ha t, sa id Nancy, upon w hat he hasthe describing Of.

”And in th is speech t he w ay w omen know

how to belittle an enemy is clea rly to be seen .

“

H e can de

scribe a ba rn to a fa rmer, a road to a surveyor,or a church

to an architect, so that they fa ll into an ecstasy Of admiration Of h is parts. When it comes to a w oman i t ’s a differentma tter. Mr. Pitcai rn doesn’t know a w oman . He

’s not ,

rightly speaking, a man . As Mr. Ca rmichael says,‘

H e’s

just a head .

’

I t’s a curious head , the duke answ ers, a curious head

and a very clea r one .

”

A clea r head to prosecute ; never to de fend , Nancyresponded ;

“which leads me to the cause Of my visit . I havecome to ask for t he pa rdon Of T imothy L apra ik .

”

The duke dropped h is eye l ids, and a st range light shonefrom under them.

“You compl iment me , Mistress Sta ir, in th ink ing I have

the pow er to undo tha t w h ich w as sett led by the l aw Of yourcountry and a jury tried and true . I took no pa rt in the

affa ir ; the prosecut ion w as not mine ; in a word , the thing is

perhaps beyond my pow er, had I the desire to get him a par

don , w h ich , how ever, I have not .

Al l th is t ime ne i ther had made any motion tow a rd sittingdown

,but stood rega rd ing each other, a lert and w atch ful . It

w as Nancy Sta i r w ho took the first move . Coming over tothe duke she put one Of her hands on h is breast and stoodlooking up a t him out of those gray eyes Of whose power shew as not unconscious.



tha t you w ere lmow n by oommon reputc as the‘l sy ing Duke

Of d te H ighlands’”

The duke bow ed.

“I have hw d from high and low tha t you have nci ther

the oode of a gent l eman nor tbe oommon bonesty of businees

afla irs. I t is even argued tha t you have not the nn ra l per

The duke looked at her st aa di ly for a moment aga in and

his l ips curled back into a smi le.

“You are open ly accused Of thefts in India—oi defraud

ing the ignoran t na t ives Of thei r lands.

”

The duke made a l itt le outw ard mot ion w i th his hand, asthough to int ima t e tha t these chargas w ere already know n

to him.

“

I t is sa id—and this seems to me one of the w orst chargas—tha t you assa il the names Of those w hose places you desirefor yourse l f or your fri ends , under cover, and in w ays im

possible for them to circumvent .

”

The duke shrugged hi s shoulders as i f this charge w ere oneof sma ll moment .

“But

’t is Of your trea tment Of women tha t the w orst

st ori es Of you are abroad, and’t is sa id tha t your conduct

toward them is tha t Of a brute rather than Of a man . Thereis a ta le Of one w oman , the wi fe Of a ba ronet , w ho le ft herhusband for you, and whom ye a fter deserted to poverty and

She paused a moment and turned to recapi tul ate.

“L iar,

”she sai d .

The duke bowed slightly.

“Thief. ”

The duke bent h is head a bit lower.

“

De frauder, blackma iler, and betrayer of women.

”

The duke rose and made a profound salutation , and Nancyregarded him with a smile .

“ I do not think Of any other thing, she concluded ; andthen , as though there w as still hOpe for him,

“ I have neverheard your grace accused of Open murder.”

’Tis strange,

”the duke answered her with a queer look .

I have enough of the a rtist in me to see tha t the open murderw ould have been fi nely climact ic. There is but one of these

ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE 3019

cha rges tha t I desire to deny to you, looking a t the fi re

through h is eyeglass as he spoke : I don’t l ie,”he sa id, add

ing, with the shadow Of a smile , I don’t have to. And may

I ask , Mistress Sta i r, do you believe these things of me ?”

Nancy rose and looked into the fi re .

“ I like you,”she answered .

In spite of my crimes ?”

Because Of your power, she responded .

They stood for a moment regarding each other steadilybefore another word w as spoken .

“Ah

, my lord,”she sa id ,

“ I must be going, and there w as

a shade Of regret in her voice, which Borthw icke w as not the

man to l et pass unnoticed,“ I have kept my word .

”

“True, the duke answered ,“

you have kept your word .

You will keep yours to me ?”she asked, ex tending her

By this time to- morrow Lapra ik shall be a free man , the

duke answered, holding t he ext ended hand in his.

“Thank you, she sa id , and another silence fell betweenthem as they stood thus

,nearer together, domina ted by mag

netic a ttract ion so strong tha t a full minute passed unnoticedby either.

“ It is my turn to ask favors, the duke sa id headily. The

rose in your breast .”“ Sha ll I fasten it on your coat she asked.

SO for a moment more they stood almost touching eachother, h is breath moving t he curls Of her ha ir as she reachedtoward him.

“

Good n ight , he sa id, ex tending h is hand aga in.

Good n ight, she sa id, putting hers into it.You have your people with you?

”

Yes.

It is better then I should not come down ?Much better,

”she answered, a fter a second ; and then ,

turning to him : You are coming to the Duchess Of Gordon’s

“ I had intended to rema in away till I saw you. Wha t do

you think I sha ll do now ?” h is grace asked.

How shoul d I know, my lord duke ?”Nancy inquired,

with a smile.


Wha t do you think I am to donow ?”he

with insistence.

I th ink you will come to the Gordon’s,”Nancy answered

in a low voice.

“ I may kiss your hand ? the duke asked ; and, as he didso, the act having in it more Of a ca ress than a salutation,“ Believe me,

”he sa id

,

“ I could not stay away.

”

i t t i


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

ca l low sophomore by the mut t erings of the Civil War. He had

w i shed to volunteer earl ier, but w as not accept ed unt i l 1 862, w hen

he w as e ighteen years old. He served in the exci ti ng and important

cammigns of Virgin ia unti l 1 864. In thi s service he w as closely as

socia t ed w i th his brother, and for a short time they en joyed togethera cordia l commuionsh ip in developing the ir minds and cultiva t ingtheir tastes, a lready turn ing steadfa stly to music and poetry. In

1 864 Cl i fford became signa l ofi cer on the Tal isman, a blockaderunner plying betw een Bermuda and Wi lmingt on , North Carolina .

In December hi s vessel w as lost but he escaped to Cuba , ran the

b lockade a t Ga lveston ,Tex as, and rea ched Macon in May , 1 865,

a fter al l t he hosti lities w ere over. He w as paroled by W il

son’s command of Federa l ca va lry. Cli fford Lan ier w as a ga l lant

soldi er and a lw ays ma inta ined a loya l devotion to the Southern

cause. Prominent among the Un i ted Con federa te Vet erans duringhis l i fe, at his grave w as read the beauti ful ri tua l w hich he hadcomposed for th is organ i z a tion .

In July, 1 865 , Cl i fford Lan i er returned to Montgomery, Al abama,and to his former occupa t ion as clerk in a hotel. On November 26,1 867, he marri ed Mi ss W i lhelmina Clopton , a daughter of JudgeClopton, la ter a member of the Supreme Court of Alabama. He

soon became propri etor of the Ex change Hotel, and rema ined in

th i s business un t i l 1 884. After 1 887 he w as employed in managingrea l esta te and other investments, though he rema ined to the end

in connect ion w i t h the Ex change Hotel Company. In h is la tt eryears he found time not merely for l i terary w ork but for a l l civicinterests that demanded t he t ime and coiipera t ion of a publ icSpiri ted ci ti z en . He had previously man i fested h is interest in education by servi ng for a term as superintendent of schools ; he now

busi ed himsel f w i th pol i tica l and civ ic reforms and w i th the publ icconcerns Of t he Church to w h ich he w as devoted.

He d ied on t he morn i ng Of November 3, 1 908. He had en joyedmore than forty years Of happy married l i fe, and h is w idow , the

compan ion not alone Of h is toi ls but a lso Of h is dreams and fancies,surv ives h im. There a re a lso tw o surv iv ing ch i ldren ,

Mrs. W. L .

Durr, and Mr. C. A. Lan ier, Jr both Of Montgomery.

Cl i fford Lan ier’s l iterary w ork w as a reflection of h is l i fe and

character. La te in l i fe he sa id of h is l iterary purpose : “ I love a l

most any poem w h ich suf’fuses beauty w i th i t s moral lesson. I do

not esteem verses for expression merely, but my taste ca lls for

some upl i ft or thri ll of plea sure from a truth flashing l ightning- l ikefrom a sca rf of cloud. Al l my efforts are to teach.

” I t w as th is

conception Of poetry, as w ell as h is unw avering devotion to his

CLIFFORD LANI ER 3023

brother’s memory, that devolved upon him the task, a love- task, ofbringing t he people to a fuller apprecia tion of Sidney Lan ier.

“ I w ould rather be a tolerable essayist than an intolerable ver

sifi er,” he had sa id, but he w as far more than a tolerable essayist

and never an intolerable versifi er. Much tha t he w rote w as neverpubli shed, and of th i s unpubl i shed ma teria l no l i ttle w a s in essayform on t he rela t ions of poetry and ph i losophy and t he relations ofpoetry and rel igion . Essays of thi s character w ere prin ted in the

Na shv i lle Christ i an Advoca t e, The Chautauquan and The I ndepend

en t ; and other essays, and poems, too, appeared in periodica ls rangi ngfrom the loca l da i ly to the establ i shed monthly. He tried h is handa t fiction a lso, though w i th less success than in essay or poetry.

“Thorn Frui t” w as a w ar sketch des ign ed to portray scenes of h isrecent experience, w h i le “Love and Loya lty a t W ar

”( 1 893) w as in

l ighter vein ,but st i ll of serious temper. H is only collected volume

of poems is ent i tled‘Apollo and Kea ts on Brow n ing, and other

Poems.’ I t takes i t s t i t le from the longest and first poem in the

collection . I t is fantasy Of very grea t beauty. I t w as born , no doubt,of the author’s tendency to rea l i z e the other w orld in th is. In his

poetry he seems a lw ays to feel tha t the w orld of the poet, of t heseer

,of the soul apart from the body, are a l l very much a t one

w ith t he busy w orld of our da i ly med ita tions, i f not of our earthlyconcerns. Every one of his poems points a mora l of eth ics or ofgood l iving and h igh think ing.

There are many of t he poems that i t w ould be w orth w h i le toSpeak of, but they must be left ma inly to Speak the ir ow n mes

sages. The follow ing w ere origina lly publ ished in t he periodica lsindicated : A Port ra i t,” Scri bner’s Maga z ine, about 1 876 ; D ia lectVerses by S idney and Cl i fford L an ier : “The Pow er Of Prayer,”Scri bner

’s Maga z ine, 1 875 or 1 876 ;

“Uncle Jim’s Bapti st Revi va lHymn” ; Scri bner’s Magaz ine, 1 876 ;

“The Pow er of Affection, orVoting in Alabama” ; “ Friar Servetus (A The I nde

penden t , October 23, 1 890.

Lan ier had the poet ic nature. I t w as not the nature tha t ex

presses itsel f in the mere sw ing of song, but in the rapture of symbol ic insight. H is crea tions are not of the first rank ; he could not

be ca lled a grea t poet. But there is deep insigh t expressed in ar

t ist ic w ords symbol i z ing the ul t imate th ings of t he human hea rt .

He expressed in h is ow n w ri t ings the thought tha t, a t the heart ofa l l th ings, rel igion and ph i losophy and poetry are one. Tha t is theconception of the ph i losopher and the intui tion of the poet. Therew as about h im someth ing of both .

I t is a fitting last w ord w i th w hich he closes the l i ttle volume of

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

h is collected poems. I t is a sort of con fession of fa i th in w hichl ived and a lmost prophetic of t he manner of hi s passing aw ay.expresses h is view of t he l i fe pa st “

the w est ern ga te”

In c ircl es ever moveth l i fe aroundWi thout decl ine ; eve puts no term nor bound ;Age a t old porta ls is aw a itFor tha t new scene beyond the gate.Thi s l i ttle gra in of l i fe w as sw eet ; how grandThe planetary round of God’s new land.”

THE MISSION OF BEAUTYExt ract from an Essay en t i t led “

Li t era ture and L i fe.

W E speak of different kinds of rights—lega l rights, mora lrights, etc. ; now , have w e t he mora l right or sp iritua l charterof l iberty to live our lives prosa ica lly ? Of course the presentpossesses i t s insistent demands. The actua l is a ta sk - master ;duties are in evidence ; circumstances are a lw ays tugging a t theskirts of t he soul for recognition ; but is it not the business ofEduca tion, of L iterature, of Religion , to make stra ight t hepath of the Lord of li fe , to throw t he glamor of a ffection , the

broideries of ski ll, the cha rm of poetic color and t he odor ofsanct ity about the dull, the prosy, the forbidding and t he

common -

placeThere cometh a fter the actua l and the common -

place one

whose sanda l - strings they are not w orthy to loose—the HolySpirit of int ellectua l , of mora l , of spiritua l Beauty (the goodness of Beauty and t he Beauty of goodness ) , one w ho indeeddiffuses the loveliness of a d ivine comforter, and for the sakeof w hom the disciples of such sweet Love welcome toil, privation , and even dea th .

L iterature it is that enables education to digni fy, to sweeten.

to adorn , to poeti z e the prosy and t he common -

place .

As God wa lked with Adam in the noon of Eden,i f Deity


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

It seems to free thee of thy cageAs owning al l the w oodland’s range,Thy being wings upon i t s rageAnd rapture - buoyant music strange.

To gleams of wildwood dells and streams,Ne

’er know n by thee, to forest rills

Tha t are hered ity’s dim dreams,Just wrought for founta ins to thy tri l ls.

’Twere a lchemy to transport theseO

’er widening leagues of circumstance,

But thy soul - wa fting song doth teaseL ike riddles hoa r of dea th and chance ;

For it doth bea r thysel f, not them ;No prisoner now , but freedom

’s king

In Time’s wide woods, upon the stemAnd spray of space thou l i l t

’st to sing.

O f old, philosophy ha th sai dNor gold nor consul ship made free ;

Wise Ep ictetus established ,Knowledge of song gave l iberty.

And science of li fe made true a thletes,Tho’ bodies live in gy ves and cha ins

And his disciples, he entreats,To note how w isdom spirit tra ins.

Does song, sweet bird , unbind thy hea rt ?Then wit - wise man may free his soul,Borne on the winged voice of Art ,And reach the spirit’s happier goa l.

CLIFFORD LANIER 3027

TIME, TIRELESS TRAMPAl l cel ect ions are from ‘Apollo and Keats on Browning. and Other Poems.’

Used here by permi ssion of Mrs . Cl ifi ord Lan ier.

0Time, thou runn ing tramp so fleet,I f thou would’st on ly l ag awhile !

I pause to ease my weary feetAnd thou hast sped a mile.

How long a journey may I takeWith thee ? I s li fe but just one stage ?

Our next inn, dea th ? New li fe, the breakO f dawning age on age ?

Mi llenia l eons round, like flowers,Thoumust have known in bud and bloom

And secular days from crescent powersWaning to sunless gloom.

D idst chat with Luna ere she grewSo chastely sad and ghostly cold

About her fa irness ere she knew“

The wrinkle” of growing old ?

Art come to age’s memory yet ?

Wilt gossip of thine earlier days?The middle countless yea rs forgetAnd sing us prima l lays !

A hundred thousand springs eclipseIn blank forgetfulness. RetraceSome million stades, and on thy lipsAnd round thy youthful face

Let speak the word, let shine the lightThat sang and shone when stars were born !Wert thou Beginn ing’s eremiteUnwed, a lone, forlorn ?


How ol d wert thou when Adam playedWith Flora and the Fauns and Pan ?

What time throned I ah from lustrous shadeSpake music unto man ?

Beyond do vaster oceans roll ?How long canst thou expect to be?

Al l time thy body, timeless soul,Ha th reached ma turity ?

Thou seem’st a Jack - o - lantern thought,

E’er dancing over fens of fern,

Fit ful, a feared of getting caught,And dark when thou should’st burn.

D id God exha le thee while H e slept,The very vapor of H is brea th,That , breath of L i fe, thou yet hast keptThe E lfin - ness of Dea th ?

A SEAW EED ON DECK IN MID - OCEAN

Brave tangle, color - glinting w eed,

Thou st ayest not our huge ship’s speed

One little whit . Thine a tom’s need,

W e heed it not .

Could not Levia than’s vast greed

Spa re thee one spot ?

Fierce winter ga les thy cradle shook,Within some isle - sequestered nook ;Thine ancestors there refuge took

Aga inst the storm ,

To pa rent sa fe from a lien lookThee nested wa rm .

D id thy forbears Columbus know ,

When that discoverer long ago,

Solemn with prophecy of w o,

H is deck did paceWhose ca ravels and pinnace slow

Sargasso trace ?



Thine is the w arrior- martyr’s fate,To bleeding fa ll without the ga teOf Israel, die, and, with no date

On sandy tomb,To l ie, and to the ages pra te

Of wa r’s sad doom.

Such would be, i f this meager artThine only record were . Thy heartBe comforted ! A better part

May yet befa l l.Impa led upon an expert’s dart

Aga inst the wa ll,

In some museum’s richest n iche,

Thou sha lt high lore of science teach,And secrets of huge ocean preach

Ga in out of loss !Beyond the heaven, thou yet shal t reach,

Of w eed ormoss !

THE AMERICAN PHILOMEL

Ah, sw eet, our mocking- bird,The many - tongued !

From highest top of you church pinnacle,Whose glittering point thus quivers into song,His voice !

The church’s fa ith and loveNow seem to blossom in

Nor flower nor odor, but in sound .

Gone is the day , passed with i t s Sabbath formsThe z ea l of Sunday - school in children’s eyes,B laz ing to kindle bright the farthest isles,Now fades in children’

s dreams th is summer n ight,And yields their fane to loveliness of song.

Ba lm- breathing ha rmony,

W ha t tenderness is thine !The a ir is al l etherea l


The moonl ight soft afi ect ion’s sweetest smileThe fragrant trees are Beauty’s ministers,And dewy lawns l ie tearfully a - dream.

Sweet, bird - blown flute,Thou weavest poesy and lore in one

Religion , history, and song,

Wild -flow ers, and wheat !An Indian ma iden with the hea rt of Ruth,Withheld by triba l hate from joy and love,And pining fa ithfully,Might utter such a pla int as thineNow is ; anonSome antique Miriam’

s triumph swellsIn rising, crescent , cymba l - clashing notes,Joyous, outringing as a pea l of bells.

An a labaster box of Music’s nardUpon the feet of Love thou sha t terest

These drops of dew are fragrant with i t s sw eetThese pendent boughs seem blessing hands ;Out of grim shadow benedictions come ;Moonlight like Christ’s forgiveness beams

Thy heavenly throa t ings whisper to the soulUndying fa ith, superna lLove eterna l .

FOREST ELI ! IRS

Inha ling strength with every brea thSoft blown across t he mounta in w ay ,

I stroll w here autumn’s crimson death

And Summer’s resurrection say

The annua l rhyme of dea th and li fe .

Smooth w inds t he road o’er covert glade,On upw a rd Slope, by varying stri fe,For mastery of light and shade.


Here greenery ha th conquered a l l ,And domina tes a world of love ;

Yon distant hill is mighty thra llOf mastering blueness throned above.

Here fi nd I quiet rest I seekFar from t he turbulence of men,

And mildly importune the meekFaun - voices of the Woodland glen ;

Where think not that the woods are still ;For w homsoe

’er can overhea r

Each run let speaketh, and each hill,A music hid from ca rna l ear.

The dumb rocks hint their historyAnd myriad winged things float pastWith messages of mysterySent from the dim lea f - shadowed vast.

Al l tender moss that steadfast cl ingsTo wa rm the oak - root , mantle - wise,Some answer has to question ings,Repose for restless subtleties.

I f I would stanch an anguish soreThat contumely’s thr ust ha th made,

Or into w ounds mild hea ling pourAway from battle - fi elds of trade,

I wa lk amid these lea fy balmsWood d istillations magic breeds

Upborne upon the upheld pa lmsOf el fin greenwood—Ganymedes,

And lea rn how thought is k in to prayerThat grace, as juices from ea rth’s sod,

Flows through the veins of spirit whereMan

’s soul doth feel the touch of God .



HIS SILENT FLUTE

To S. L . , 1 881

Each li fe is t inct with joyousness and pa inA w eb of measured silences and soundIn subtle plan of patterns deftly w ound,And with a heart of love is Music . Ra in ,

Sunshine, are tides of one wavering Ma inWhose throbbing bea rs the prow of li fe to portE

’en on t he parapet of Ha tred

’s fort

Some bruised violet of love will fa inI ts banner wave for Brotherhood and God

Such a lternates do fleck the whole vast roundA star, a comet lost is a planet foundThis comfort would I take from star and clodI hear it murmuring from his si lent fluteDeath is not dea th, but li fe that

’s briefly mute.

TO A POET DY ING YOUNG

Much like some mountain - springing crysta l rill,Or burgeoning of trees tha t bravely cl imbThe sunn iest crag of a l l ; now like the mimeOf mock - bird trilling ga ily, then dea th - still,As i f his ma te - bird’s answ er hushed h is trill,Or some god whispered in his ear,

’Tis time

For holy meditation,

”- so thy rhyme

D id fa lter seeking beauty and love’s will .Too short , ah ! sadly short , thy days for song,For work, for prayer, for far- envoyaging thought .Ah, me ! no time nor strength for righting wrongThy soul well knew man’

s apathy had wrought .Thou couldst but tri ll, as thou d idst limp a long,High hints of music

’s heaven thy soul had caught .


THE MEN BEHIND THE BOOKS

From cabined wa lls of close- ranged dusty shelves,Whereon t he efligies of great thoughts are

In print, mine inner sense would break t he barAnd fi nd the treasury of thei r inmost selves ;Shakspere’s, while Vision ing midsummer elvesWith Queen Titania in her w ee nut car ;

With dreaming poets range from sta r to star,Or plunge in caverns plumbing science delves ;To ga z e beyond this pa le on Kea ts’dear soulEndymion ’mong the stars of Beauty’s sky ;

On Mi lton’s hea ring Heavenly battles roll ;Thro’Wordsworth’s, know each tenderflow erets eyeWith humble workers study moss and clod,And with brave singers feel the brea th of God.

IN A LIBRARY

0 love of books, what comradeship is thine !What stimulus of stri fe without i t s sting !Here old Time’s warriors their trophies bringWith scent of classic fi elds and hint of brineFrom Faery oceans, Fancy

’s eglantine,

The towers of Romance w hereround memories cl ing,With song- brea ths poets’ hea rt s cease

'

not to sing,And stories told of men become d ivine .

Who would not cleave t he actua l li fe in twa inAnd yield Imagination this her due ?To act the petty round is on ly ha l f

O f li fe and keeps our living sma ll and vai n.

0 choose w e wisely what the mind may quafi ,

And ca thol ic l i fe in books is sw eet and true !


THE FIRST CONFEDERATE W HITE HOUSE,

MONTGOMERY , ALA.

Memento- ha llowed of heroic Lost,Nor time, nor rust hath power to despoil,Nor hate besmirch thee with deflow ’

ring moil !The pa in of ma rtyrs made thy priceless cost ,With outpoured blood of brave Con federa te host,And free - will offerings pure of corn and oi l ;

Thus thou art w orthy countless lovers’ toil ;W ho suffered al l for love now love thee most .Reborn, rechristened, and by love new -made,Thou art the dea rer for wha t ruin wrought ;With thee let treasured memories be la idFor keeping, as to shrines our dead are brought ;

Let Truth of history gem thy casket gold,And thou stay ever new , yet ever old.

THE POW ER OF AFFECTION; OR ,VOTING

IN ALABAMA

Wha t dat you say ? H aynh ? vote for you? a in’t nuvver seed

you bufl’oreI don’know w hat to ca ll you by : my name ? h it’s uncle Sim.

Don’tel me nufli ’n ’

bout vot in’

, Boss, I’se fur ole Ma t ster

shore :H e nuvver w ent back on d is black chile : I a int gw ine back

on him.

Would you ex ert de fren’ da t fed you, how sumduvver poorHe got his se’f, an

’

gin’

you w ork,w hen w ork w as mon’

sous

slim ?

Don’t el me nufli ’n ’bout vot in’, Boss, I

’se fur ole Marster

shoreH e nuvver went back on dis black chile I

’se gw ine to stay

’bout him .



Dey’s rid our votes to ofli s ’till our backs is skinned an’ sore ;Dey’s fooled young mules wid col lar straw ,

dey ca int fooluncle Sim ;

Don’tel me nufli ’n ’bout vot in’, Boss, I

’se fur ole Marster

shoreH e nuvver went back on dis black chile : -I a int gwine back

on h im.

GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE

W e know not the very hea rt of the lute ;W e only hea r the beat of music’s w ingsThe garment

’s rustle as it shaping clings

About t he bod ied soul—whether low fluteOr trumpet’s la rge w orld - full resounding bruitTha t summons to enchant the state of kings ;W e hea r the organ’

s far- drawn murmurings,But from t he holiest Holy al l is mute ;Maybe w e host an angel unaware ;W e cherish know ledge, tongues and prophecies,Forgetful how these van ish into a ir

Whereof they frame their winn ing mysteries.

Love,love a lone, in music, li fe, and art ,

Rema ins the angelic friend -

guest of the heart .

THE W ESTERN GATE

Gold in the morn . Silver shine a t noon.

Gold a fter noon ! ’Tis tw ilight now ;

Dusk w anes t he day ; old voices croon,And pal e the aureole on age’s brow.

Fi t ful the flame upon the cottage fi reBurns like the heart of chill desire ;The limbs with a che like worn - out timbers creak ,And sca rce the smoke may climb the chimney peak.

D im sounds of uproar that the Present makesCome through the window ; Memory fonder shakesOld sides to laughter and old hea rts to tears ;Al l brave delights of y outh give w ay to fears ;


Grandchildren romp not with the glee of yore ;A sadness never felt beforeCreeps in the mind ; the hand clasps not as strong ;New songs sing not as that ol d song,

Clea r with the truthOf candid youth,And sweet forsooth

As the limpid, twinkling sheen of the Romance well,Or sweethea rt - gospels lovers tellAs truest chime of the ma rriage bell,As loveliest child - bloom ever fellFrom ga rdens where home - blisses grow

And joys of heaven w ith angels dwellAnd Love’s uncankered roses blow .

Cometh now li fe’s a fterglow ;O

’er yonder sun the clouds dri ft slow

L ike sleepy birds that seek the nestOn drow sy-moving w ings a lmost at rest,So smooth their fl ight into yon da rkling West.Gold in the mom . Si lver sh ine a t noon .

Gold a fter noon ! New soft lights beamWhereof the hea rt of youth may merely dream ;Pearl, amber, lucent sard are in you gleam .

I n circles ever moveth li fe a roundWithout decline ; eve puts no term nor bound ;Age a t old portals is awai tFor that new scene beyond the gate.

This little gra in of li fe w as sweet ; how grandThe planeta ry round of God’s new land !




sorbing passions of his nature ; and he came into persona l conta ctw i th a t least one grea t teacher, Dr. Woodrow , a fterw ard presidentof the Un iversi ty of South Carol ina , under w hose inspiring leadership t he young scholar-

poet w as looking forw ard to w ider fields ofstudy in some un iversi ty of the Old World.

But such dreams w ere not to be rea l i z ed. The young scholar,appo inted tutor in his Alma Ma ter, answ ered t he ca ll of w ar and

passed from the sheltered quiet of t he study to the peri lous edge ofbattle. As priva te soldier, scout, s igna l ofii cer, blockaderunner, and

prisoner a t Point Lookout, he met the trying dut ies of a soldier w i thcourage and loya lty, evincing in a l l his experiences tha t kn ightlyqua l i ty of sheer manhood w h ich makes one a t times forget the poetand the musician and admire only the man .

He w as dismi ssed from prison in 1 865. But , from the ex posureand priva tion he had undergone, incurable disease had a lready markedh im for i t s ow n , and from one standpoint h is l i fe is but an inSp ir

ingly heroic struggle not to be overcome by i t . In the m idst of thebi tterness and the social and pol itica l con fusion of the reconstructionperiod, cheerfully and bravely he fa ced the mere question of how tolive. At one t ime i t w as by teach ing school nea r Macon and at Pra ttvi l le, Alabama ; aga in, i t w as by the commonplace w ork of a clerkin a hotel a t Montgomery. But such th ings w ere his living, not hisl i fe ; a l l the w hi le he w as studying and w ri t ing. German l i tera ture,Lucretius, and ph i losophy in particular engaged his interest. In 1 867

he publ ished his on ly novel , ‘Tiger L i l ies,’ and in tha t year marriedM iss Mary D ay , w ho proved to be an idea l poet

’s w i fe, the real

w oman of L an ier’s exquisi te poem ,

“My Springs.” In 1 870 he joinedh is fa ther in the practice of l aw a t Macon . Al l w ho knew him in thi scapaci ty bear w i tness to such efii ciency and abi li ty as prom ised a

successful career.But he w as not to rema in a law yer. The search for health carried

h im to various places, and fina lly to San An ton io, Texas. Here hecame into contact w i th a company of kindred art isti c, mus ic- lovingSp iri ts. Under the inspira tion of his surroundings, he made up hismind to gi ve h imsel f w holly to music and poetry. W ith thi s conviction he w ent to Ba ltimore in the w inter of the same year, securingthere an engagement as first flut ist in the then famous Peabody Orchest ra . Th is employment not only gave h im a means of support ,but Ba ltimore i tsel f furn i shed h im a congen ia l , art istic and intellectua la tmosphere into w hich Lan ier entered w ith al l the z est of h is ardentnature. How complete thi s absorption w as may be in ferred from t he

concluding w ords of an ever- memorable letter to h is father.

“D oes

i t not seem to you, as to me,” he w ri tes, “ that I begin to have the

right to enroll mysel f among the devotees of these tw o subl ime arts

SIDNEY LANIER 3043

(music and poetry) , having follow ed them so long and so humbly, andthrough so much bi tterness?” Th is is the commi tta l of one to a

w ay of li fe to w h ich he feels that he has been divinely ca lled. I n

sp i te of his con tinued i llness, he threw himsel f w i th a singular ardorand persistence into the investigation of various fields of know ledge,particul arly of l i tera ture and science. I t seems as i f he rea l i z ed thathe had not l ived before ; and, w i th a kind of premon i tion thatt he day of h is opportun i ty w as to be a l l too Short, he w as trying inhot haste to appropri a te i t to the full ere i t pa ssed. One does not w onder that his best w ork in both prose and verse belongs to these fewBa lt imore years. In 1 879 he w as honored w i th the appointment ofl ecturer on Engli sh l i tera ture in the recently established Johns Hopkins Universi ty. He del ivered tw o courses, one on “The Science ofEngl ish Verse” and one on “The D evelopment of the English Novel.”The l ast series w as del ivered in the w inter of 1 880, w hen t he poet w asso w eak from the ravages of d isease tha t he had to Si t during the delivery , holding out to the end by only a marvelous ex ercise of w i ll.In the summer of 1 88 1 he sought the hea l ing a irs of t he w esternNorth Carol ina mounta ins, but in va in. On the seven th of September, near Tryon , the long, heroic struggle w i th disease came to an end,

and the earth ly l ight of the finest Spiri t in Southern letters w en t out .When one considers t he di ffi culties in the w ay of the develop

ment and expression of S idney Lan ier’s gen ius—the unpropi tious con

di t ions under w h ich he began l i fe, the interruption of h i s studies byt he w ar, the struggle for support, and the unremi tt ing fight aga instdisease—the Sheer amount, as w ell as the qua l i ty, of h is merelyintellectua l achievement is l i ttle short of w onderful. He left, besideshis poetry, t en volumes in a l l :

‘Tiger L i lies,’ a novel ; a volume of letters ; tw o volumes of essays, ‘Music and Poetry’ and ‘

Retrospects andProspects

’

; tw o volumes of lectures ; ‘

ShakeSpere and h is Forerunners’; a book on Florida ; three books for boys, ‘

The Boys’Froi ssart,’‘The Boys’ Percy,’ and ‘

The Boys’ Mab inogion’; and tw o volumes ofex ceptiona lly suggestive cri tici sm, the Johns Hopkins University l ectures on ‘

The Science of English Verse’ and ‘

The Development oft he Engl ish Novel .’

Al l thi s represents a man’s full quota of the w orld’s w ork in the

l ine he had chosen , and the fine th ing about i t is that so l i ttle of i tw as mere hack - w ork, or the product of a faci le di lettantism in musicand l i tera ture. The range of know ledge d isplayed, the essentia l origina l i ty of ideas, the conscientious effort to come a t the truth of thematter in hand, the h igh seriousness of the w ri ter, and the concretevividness of his style, a l l tend to li ft Lan ier’s prose w rit ing out of therange of the commonplace, though i t s chief va lue i s to be found, first,in i t s revel at ion of the fine yet strong personali ty of the man himsel f,


and, secondly, w hat is akin to th is, of hi s lof ty idea ls of the qua li ties,t he m iss ion , and t he service of the tw in arts of music and poetry.

No student of American l i tera ture can a fford to overlook Lan ier’sprose as a revelation of one of the most a ttractive persona li ties in tha tl i tera ture and a lso as a record of t he serious appl ica tion of Spiri tua lideas to t he fundamental principles of art .When one turns to the poetry of Lan ier, these aga in are the tw o

th ings tha t one cannot escape. One is conscious through i t a l l of thepersona l i ty of t he man in i t s h igh, unbending chiva lry and in i t s

persistent asp irat ion to a tta in the best . Th is is the source of thesubtle, perva sive charm tha t w ins the heart of every sympatheticreader, and i t i s no sl ight ach ievement, as far as the content of apoet

’s w ork is concerned, to be thus able to stir t he nobi l ity of other

na tures by the presence in h is verse of h is ow n essentia l nobi l ity oftemperament. Then, too, t he reader of L an ier’s poetry is bound toappreciate and be stimula ted by the character of the ideas w i th w h ichmost of i t is in formed—the conception of the true poet’s leadersh ipin “Corn ,

”the breadth of h is v ision and h i s duty to record the w hole

of li fe in “Beethoven ,

” h is solemn responsibi l i ties in “ Indiv idua l i ty,”his mission to forw a rd the Sp iri tua l progress of t he race in “Clover,to ferti l i z e the w orld w i th the beauty and pow er of truth in “The

Bee ,” to sp iri tua l i z e the i lls of l i fe into good in “Rose Mora ls,”

and, fina lly, to l ive th e best in order to w ri te t he best in “L i fe andSong.

” Moreover, to l i fe and i t s problems, socia l, pol i ti ca l , industria l, intellectua l , and rel igious, he appl ied certa in cha racteri stic fundamen t a l idea s tha t are strong in their appea l . As a poet, he w as

essentia lly modern in thought , trying bravely to interpret the con

t radict ions and con fus ions of the w orld about h im in terms of a fa i thw h ich stead i ly refused to el iminate from t he a ffa irs of men a benefi

cent God and a purpose w isely directed though hard to understand.

Besides, the God of the Purpose w as w orking out H is plans somehow under t he l aw of Love. Through th i s l aw , Science and Art areto be w edded and our pol i tica l problems solved (“The Psa lm of theWest”) the h ideous conception of Hell i s to be ban i shed from theologi ca l thought (“How Love Looked for Hell”) the unseemly quarrels of rel igious sects are to be transformed into peaceful un i ty (“Re

industria l and commerc ia l condi tions and rela tionships w i ll be made beauti ful w i th a l l t he

,fa ir th ings of l i fe (“Theand t he w orld be w on fina lly to H im w ho w as the

flaw less incarna tion of hol iness and love (“The Crysta lSo dom inan t are such ideas in Lan ier’s poetry that one feels h im

sel f commun ing, for the time, w ith an ex ceedingly w inn ing prea cherof spiri tua l truth, a kind of St . Francis of Ass isi in modern garband thought. But , how ever grea t the charm of such an experience,


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Soul fi l led like thy long veins with sweetness tense,By every godlike sense

Transmuted from the four wild elements.

Drawn to high plans,Thou l i ft ’st more stature than a mort a l man’s,

Yet ever piercest downwa rd in the mouldAnd keepest holdUpon t he reverend and steadfast ea rthThat gave thee birth ;

Yea , standest smiling in thy future grave,Serene and brave

,

With unremitting breat hInhal ing li fe from dea th,

Thine epitaph writ fa ir in fruitage eloquent ,Thysel f thy monument.

As poets Should,Thou hast built up thy hardihoodWith universa l food,D rawn in select proportion fa irFrom honest mould and vagabond a ir;

From da rkness of the dreadful n ight,And joyful light ;From an tique ashes, whose depart ed flameIn thee has finer li fe and longer fame ;

From w ounds and ba lms,From storms and ca lms,From potsherds and dry bonesAnd ruin - stones.

Into thy vigorous substance thou hast wroughtWha te’er the hand of circumstance ha th brought ;Yea ,

into cool solacing green has t spunWhite radiance hot from out the sun.

50 thou dost mutua lly leavenStrengt h of earth with grace of heaven ;So thou dost ma rry new and oldInto a one of higher mould ;So thou dost reconcile the hot and cold ,

SIDNEY LANIER 3047

The dark and bright,And many a hea rt - perplex ing opposite,

And so,

Akin by blood to high and low,

Fi t ly thou playest out thy poet’s part ,

R ichly expending thy much - bruised heartI n equa l ca re to nourish lord in ha llOr beast in sta llThou took

’st from al l that thou mightst give to al l .

0 steadfast dweller on the sel fsame spotWhere thou wast born , tha t still repinest notType of the home - fond heart, the happy lotDeeply thy mild content rebukes the landWhose fl imsy homes, built on the shi fting

Of trade, for ever rise and fa llWith a lternation whimsica l ,Enduring sca rce a day ,

Then swept awayBy swift engul fments of inca lculable tidesWhereon capricious Commerce rides.

Look, thou substantial spi rit of content !Across this l ittle va le, thy continent,

uTo w here, beyond the mouldering mill,Yon ol d deserted Georgi an hillBares to the sun his p iteous aged crestAnd seamy breast,By restless- hea rt ed children left to l ieUntended there beneath t he heedless skyAs barbarous folk expose their old to di e.

Upon that generous- rounding side,With gul lies . scarifi ed

Where keen Neglect his lash ha th pl iedDwelt one I knew of old, w ho pl ayed at toxl ,And gave to coquette Cot ton soul and soil .Scorning the slow reward of patient gra in,

He sowed his heart with hopes of sw i fter ga in,Then sa t him down and wa ited for the ra in .


He sa iled in borrowed ships of usuryA foolish Jason on a treacherous sea ,Seeking the Fleece and finding misery.

Lulled by smooth - rippling loans, in idl e tranceHe lay , content tha t unthri ft CircumstanceShould plough for him the stony fi eld of Chance.

Yea , ga thering crops whose worth no man might tell ,He staked h is li fe on games of Buy - and - Sell,And turned each field into a gambler’s hell .Aye, as each yea r began,My fa rmer to the neighboring city ran ;

Passed w ith a mourn ful, anxious faceInto the banker’s inner place ;Pa rleyed , excused, pleaded for longer grace ;Ra iled a t t he drought, the worm, t he rust, the grassProtested ne’er aga in ’twould come to pass ;With many an oh and if and but a las

Pa rried or sw al lowed sea rching questions rude,And kissed the dust to soften D ives’s mood .

At last, sma ll loans by pledges grea t renew ed,He issues smiling from t he fata l door,And buys w ith lavish hand his yea rly storeTill h is sma ll borrow ings will yield no more.

Aye, as each yea r declined,With bitter hea rt and ever - brooding mindHe mourned his fate unkind .

I n dust , in ra in , w ith might and ma in,He nursed h is cotton,

cursed h is gra in ,

Fretted for new s that made him fret aga in,Snatched a t each telegram of Future Sa le,And thrilled w ith Bulls’ or Bea rs’ a lternate wa ilI n hOpe or fear a like for ever pa le .

And thus from yea r to yea r, through hOpe and fear,With many a curse and many a secret tear,Striving in va in h is cloud of debt to clear,

At lastHe woke to fi nd h is foolish dreaming past,And a l l his best—ofli fe the easy prey


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Shot through with lights of stars and dawns,And shadowed sweet by ferns and fawns,—Thus heaven and ea rth together vieTheir Shining depths to sanct i fy.

Always when the la rge Form of LoveI s hid by storms that rage above,I ga z e in my two springs and see

Love in his very verity.

Always when Fa ith with stifling stressOf grief hath died in bitterness,I ga z e in my two springs and see

A Fa ith that smiles immorta l ly.

Always when Cha rity and Hope,In darkness bounden, feebly grope,I ga z e in my t w o springs and see

A L ight tha t sets my captives free.

Always, when Art on perverse wingFlies where I cannot hea r h im sing,I ga z e in my tw o springs and see

A cha rm that brings him back to me.

When Labor fa ints, and Glory fa ils,And coy Reward in sighs exhal es,I gaz e in my two springs and see

Attainment full and heavenly.

0Love, 0Wife, thine eyes are they ,—My springs from out whose shin ing grayIssue the Sweet celestia l streamsTha t feed my li fe’s bright Lake of D reams.

Ova l and la rge and passion -

pureAnd gray and wise and honor- sure ;Soft as a dying violet - brea thYet ca lmly una fra id of death ;

Thronged, l ike tw o dove- cotes of gray doves,With wi fe’s and mother’s and poor- folk’s IovessAnd home- loves and high glory- lovesAnd science - loves and story - loves,

SIDNEY LANIER 305 1

And loves for a l l tha t God and man

In art and nature make or plan,And lady- loves for spidery laceAnd broideries and supple grace,

And diamonds, and the w hole sw eet roundOf littles tha t large li fe compound,And loves for God and God’s bare truth,And loves for Magda len and Ruth,

Dea r eyes, dea r eyes and rare compl eteBeing heaven ly - sweet and ea rthly- sweet ,—I ma rvel tha t God made you mine,For when He frowns,

’t is then ye shine !

BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER

Into the woods my Master went,Clean forspent , forspent .Into t he woods my Master game,Forspent with love and shame.

But the olives they were not blind to Him,

The little gray leaves were kind to H im :

The thorn - tree had a mind to H imWhen into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went ,And H e w as well content .Out of the woods my Master came,Content with dea th and shame .

When Dea th and Shame would w oo Him last ,From under the trees they drew Him last’Twas on a tree they slew Him—lastWhen out of the woods He came.


THE MARSHES OF GLYNN

an: an: an: t at: an:

Ye ma rshes, how candid and simple and nothing - withholdingand free

Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to thesea !

Tolerant pla ins, that suffer the sea and the ra ins and the sun ,

Ye spread and span like the catholic man w ho hath mightily0 W011

God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pa inAnd sight out of blindness and purity out of a sta in.

As the marsh - hen secretly builds on the wa tery sod,Behold I will build me a nest on the grea tness of God :I will fly in the grea tness of God as the marsh - hen fl iesIn the freedom that fills a l l the space ’twixt the ma rsh and the

skiesBy so many roots as the ma rsh - grass sends in the sodI will hea rtily l ay me a - hold on the grea tness of GodOh, like to. the greatness of God is the greatness withinThe range of the ma rshes, the l iberal marshes of Glynn .

And the sea lends large, as the marsh : 10, out of his plenty thesea

Pours fast : full soon the time of theflood - tide must beLook how the grace of the sea doth goAbout and about through the intrica te channels that flow

Here and there,Everywhere,

Till h is waters have flooded the uttermost creeks and the lowlying lanes,

And t he ma rsh is meshed with a million veins,That like as with rosy and silvery essencesflow

In the rose - and - silver even ing glow .

Farewell , my lord Sun !

The creeks overflow : a thousand rivulets run’Twixt the roots of t he sod ; the blades of the marsh - grass stir ;Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whirr ;Passeth, and a l l is still ; and the currents cease to run ;And the sea and the marsh are one.



High o’er the hills of Habersham,

Veiling the va lleys of Ha ll,The hickory told me man i foldFa ir ta les of shade, the popla r ta llWrought me her shadowy sel f to hold,The chestnut , the oak , t he wa lnut, the pine,Overleaning, with flickering mean ing and Sign,Sa id, Pass not , so cold, these manifold

D eep shades of the hi l ls of H abersham,

These gl ades in the va l l eys of H a l l .

And oft in the hills of Habersham,

And oft in the valleys of Ha ll,The white qua rtz shone, and the smooth brook - stoneD id bar me of passage with friendly brawl,And many a luminous jewel lone—Crysta ls clea r or a - cloud with mist,Ruby, ga rnet and amethystMade lures with the lights of streaming stone

In the clefts of t he hills of Habersham,

In the beds of the va lleys of Hall .

But oh, not the hills of Habersham,

And oh, not the va lleys of Ha llAva i l : I am fa in for to w ater the pla in .

Downwa rd the voices of Duty ca llDownward, to toil and be mixed with the ma in ,

The dry fields burn , and t he mil ls are to turn,

And a myriad flow ers morta lly yearn ,

And the lordly ma in from beyond the pla inCa lls o’er the hills of Habersham,

Ca lls through the va lleys of Ha ll.

SIDNEY LANIER 3055

THE REVENGE OF HAMISH

It w as three slim does and a t en - tined buck in the bracken lay ;And a l l of a sudden the sin ister smell of a man ,

Awa ft on a w ind - shi ft,wavered and ran

Down the hill - Side and Si fted a long through the bracken and

passed that w ay .

Then Nan got a - tremble a t nostril ; She w as the da intiest doe ;I n the print of her velvet flank on the velvet fernShe reared, and rounded her ears in turn .

Then t he buck leapt up, and his head as a king’s to a crowndid go

Full high in the breez e, and he stood as i f Dea th had the formof a deer ;

And the tw o Slim does long la z ily stretching arose,For their day - dream slow l ier came to a close,Till they woke and were still , breath - bound with wa iting and

w onder and fear .

Then Alan the huntsman sprang over the hillock, t he houndsshot by,

The does and the t en - tined buck made a marvellous bound,The hounds swept a fter w ith never a sound,

But Alan loud winded h is horn in Sign that the quarry w as

n igh .

For a t dawn of that day proud Maclean of Lochbuy to thehunt had w ax ed wild,

And he cursed a t old Alan t ill Alan fared off with the

houndsFor to drive him the deer to the lower glen - groundsI w i ll ki ll a red deer,

” quote Maclean,

“

in the sight of thew i fe and t he child .

So gayly he paced with the wife and the child to h is chosenstand ;

But he hurried ta ll Hamish the henchman ahead : Go

turnCried Maclean i f the deer seek to cross to the burn ,

Do thou turn them to me : nor fa il, lest thy back be red as thy

handf’

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Now hard - fortuned Hamish, hal f blown of his breath wi ththe height of the hill,

W as white in the face when the t en - tined buck and the doesDrew leaping to burn - wa rd ; huskily rose

H is shouts, and h is nether lip twitched, and h is legs were o’er

weak for h is will .

So the deer da rted lightly by Hamish and bounded away tot he burn .

But Maclean never ba ting his watch tarried wa iting belowStill Hamish hung heavy with fear

’

for to goAl l the space of an hour ; then he went, and h is face w as

greeni sh and stem ,

And h is eye sa t back in the socket, and shrunken the eyebal lsshone,

As withdrawn from a vision of deeds it were shame to see .

“Now , now , grim henchman , wha t is

’t with thee ?”

Brake Maclean , and h is wrath rose red as a beacon the windhath upblown .

Three does and a ten - tined buck made out , spoke Hamish ,full mi ld

,

And I ran for to turn , but my breath it w as blown, and

they passed ;I w as weak, for ye ca lled ere I broke me my fast .

Cried Maclean :“Now a ten - tined buck in the Sight of the wife

and the child

I had killed i f the gluttonous kern had not wrought me a sna il’sow n wrong !”

Then he sounded, and down came kinsmen and clansmen

a l l .

Ten blows, for ten tine, on h is back let fall,And reckon no stroke i f the blood ofollow not a t the bite of

thong !”

So Hamish made ba re, and took him h is strokes ; a t the lasthe smiled.

Now I’ll to the burn, quoth Maclean ,for it still may be,

I f a slimmer- paunched henchman will hurry with me,I sha ll kill me the ten - tined buck for a gi ft to the wife and the

child !”



On a sudden he turns ; with a sea - haw k scream,and a gibe ,

and a song,Cries : “ So, I w ill spa re ye the child i f, in Sight of ye a l l ,Ten blows on Maclean’

s ba re back sha ll fa ll,And ye reckon no stroke i f the blood follow not a t the biteof the thong !”

Then Maclean he set ha rdly his tooth to h is lip that his toothw as red,

Brea thed short for a space , sa id : Nay , but it never sha ll be !Let me hurl off the damnable hound in the sea !

”

But the wi fe : “

Can Hamish go fi sh us the child from the sea ,

i f dead ?”

Say yea—Let them lash me, Hamish ? “

Nay ! Hamish,t he lashing wi ll heal ;

But , oh, who will hea l me the bonny sweet ba irn in h is grave ?Could ye cure me my hea rt with the death of a knave ?

Quick ! Love ! I will ba re thee—so—kneel Then Maclean’

gan slowly to kneel

With never a word, till presently downw a rd he jerked to theearth .

Then the henchman—he tha t smote Hamish—w ould tremble°

and lag ;

Strike, hard quoth Hamish , full stem ,from the crag ;

Then he struck him , and“

One !”sang Hamish

, and dancedwith the child in h is mirth .

And no man spake beside Hamish ; he counted each strokewith a song.

When the last stroke fell, then he moved him a pace downthe height ,

And he held forth the child in the heartaching sightOf the mother, and looked a l l piti ful grave , as repenting a

wrong.

And there as the motherly a rms stretched out w ith the thank s

giving prayerAnd there as the mother crept up w ith a fearful swift pace ,Till her fi nger nigh felt of the ba irn ie’s face

In a flash fi erce Hamish turn round and li fted the child int he a ir,

SIDNEY LANIER 3059

And sprang with the child in his a rms from the horrible heightin the sea ,

Shrill screeching, Revenge ! in the wind - rush ; and pa llidMaclean,

Age- feeble with anger and impotent pa in ,

Crawled up on the crag, and lay fla t , and locked hold of deadroots of a tree

And gaz ed hungrily o’er, and the bl ood from his back dripdripped in the brine,

And a sea - hawk flung down a skeleton fi sh as he flew ,

And the mother sta red white on the waste of blue,And t he wind drove a cloud to seaward, and the sun began to.

shine.

DIFFERENCE BETW’

EEN MUSIC AND VERSE

From ‘The Science of English Verse .

’Copyright . and used here by permission of

Mrs. Lani er sud Charles Scribner’s Sons.

W E have now reached a point where w e can profitablyinquire as to the precise differentia tion between the two speciesof the art of sound—music and verse. W e have found tha tthe art of sound, in genera l, embraces phenomena of rhythm,

of tune, and of tone - color . Many will be disposed to thinkthat the second class of these phenomena just named—tune—isnot found in verse, and that the absence of it should be one

of the first differences to be noted as between music and verse .

Tune is, how ever, quite as essential a constituent of verse as

of music ; and the disposition to believe otherwise is due onlyto the complete unconsciousness with which w e come to usethese tunes a fter the myriad repetitions of them which occurin a l l our da i ly intercourse by words. W e w i l l presently fi nd,from numerous proofs and illustrations w hich are submittedin Part II . , on

“

The Tunes of Verse,” that our modern Speech

is made up quite as much of tunes as of words and tha t ourability to convey our thoughts depends upon the existence of agrea t number of curious melodies of speech w hich have somehow acquired form and sign ificance . These tunes” are not

mere vague variations of pitch in successive words—which


would deserve the name of tune only in the most genera l senseof that term—but they are perfectly defin ite and organi z edmelodies of the speaking- voice

,composed of exact va ria tions

of pitch so well ma rked as to be instantly recogn iz ed by everyear. I f they were not thus recogn i z ed, a large portion of t heideas which w e now convey with case would be whol ly inexpressible. Reserving, then, a l l deta ils upon this matter unt i ltheir appropria te place under the head of “

The Tunes ofVerse,

”in Part II . , above cited, it w ill be suffi cient here i f the

reader is asked to rea l i z e them in a practica l w ay by first a ttempting to utter any sign ificant sentences of prose or versein an absolutely unchanging voice from beginn ing to end .

This will be found quite diffi cult , and when successfully ex ecuted produces an impression of strangeness which a l l the moreclea rly illustrates how habitual ly and how unconsciously thetunes of speech are used . I f, having uttered the sentences ina rigidly unva rying tone, the reader w ill then utter them in

the tunes which w e feel—by some inw ard perceptions too

subtle for treatment here—to be appropriate to them, it willeasily be seen tha t defin ite successions of tones are be ing used—so defini te tha t they are kept in mind for their appropria teoccas ions just as w ords are, and so regular in their organ i z ations as to be in a l l respects worthy the name of

“ tunes,”

instead of the vague terms“ intonation ,

or “ inflect ion ,w hich

have so long concealed t he rea l function of these wonderfulmelodies of the speaking - voice .

The art of verse, then, as well as the art of music—the tw ospecies of the genus art sound—includes a l l the three greatclasses of phenomena summed up under the terms rhythm,

tune, and tone - color. W e will presently fi nd many problemssolved by the full recogn ition of this fact tha t there is abso

lut ely no difference between the sound - rela tions used in musicand those used in verse .

I f this be true—i i the sound - relations of music and verseare the same—w e are necessarily forced to look for the difference between the two a rts in the na ture of the sounds themselves w ith which they deal . Here, indeed, the difference lies.

Expressed, as far as possible, in the popul a r terms, it is as

follows :



(the voca l chords ) which produce a certa in set of thesemusica l sounds. It I S true tha t this certa in set has received a

specia l name,“words, because it has come to be used for a

special purpose, namely, that of communi ca ting ideas fromman to man. I t w i ll assist t he reader to a clearer conceptionof this matter, i f the fact be ca lled to mind tha t the select ion ofvoca l sounds for the purpose of communica ting ideas w as not

at a l l a necessa ry one. Other sets of musica l sounds mighthave been selected for this purpose, those of whistles or flutes,for instance ; or no sounds a t a l l might have been used, andwords” might have been entirely eye - signs, as is actua lly t hecase with the dea f and dumb. In fi ne, when the term

“words”

is used as describing t he peculiar set of sounds used in verse ,the reader must understand it merely as a convenient methodof singling out that special i z ed set of musica l sounds made bythe musica l instrument called “

the human speaking- voice.

”

A POET’S LETT ER TO A FRIEND

From ‘ Le t t ers of S idney Lan ier.

’Copyright , and used here by permission of

Mrs. Lan i er and Charles Scribner’s Sons.

MACON, GA.,April 1 3, 1 870.

MY DEAR MR . HAYNE z—Wa tching, n ight and day , fortw o weeks past , by the bedside of a Sick friend ,

I have had no

spiritual energy to escape out of certa in gloomy ideas w hicha lways possess me w hen I am in the immed iate presence ofphysica l a ilment ; and I d id not ca re to w rite you that sort ofletter which one is apt to send under such circumstances, sinceI gather from your letters that you have enough and to spareof these disma l down - we ighings of the flesh’s ponderous can

cer upon suffering and thoughtful souls.

I am glad, there fore , that I w a ited until this divine day .

I f the year w ere an Orchestra , today would be the Flute - tonein it . A serene Hope, just on the very verge of rea l i z ing itsel fa tender lonel iness—what some German ca lls Wa ldeinsamkei t ,

wood - loneliness—the ineffable withdrawa l - feel ing that comesover one when he hides himsel f in among the trees and know s

himsel f Shut in by thei r purity , as by a fragile yet Impregnablew all, from the suspicions and the trade- regulations of men ;

SIDNEY LANIER 3063

and an inward thrill, in the a ir, or in the sunshine, one knowsnot which, ha l f like the thrill of the passion of love, and ha l flike t he thrill of the passion of friendship—these, which makeup the Offi ce of the flute - voice in those poems which the oldmasters wrote for the Orchestra , a lso preva il throughout today .

Do you like—as I do—on such a day to go out into thesunlight and stop think ing,

l ie fal low ,like a field , and absorb

those certa in libera l potential ities w hich will in a fter daysreappea r, duly formulated, duly grown ,

duly perfected, as

poems ? I have a curiosity to know i f to you, as to me, therecome such as this day—a day exquisitely sa tisfying w ith a l l

the fulnesses of the Spring, and filling you as full of namelesstremors as a girl on a w edd ing- morn ; and yet , witha l , a daywhich utterly denies you t he gi ft of speech, which puts i t sfinger on the l ip of your inspiration , which inexorably en forcesupon your soul a silence tha t you infinitely long to break, aday , in Short, w h ich takes absolute possession of you and

says to you,in tOnes which command obedience, tod ay you

mus t forego express ion and al l outcome, you mus t rema in a

fa l low field, for the sun and w ind to fert i l iz e, nor sha l l anycorn or flow ers sprout in to visible green and red un t i l to

morrow—manda tes, further, tha t you have lea rned a fter a

little ex perience not only not to fight aga inst , but to love and

revere as the w ise commun icat ion of t he Unseen Powers.

Have you seen Brow n ing’s The R ing and the Book’?I am confident that , a t the birth of this man ,

among a l l t he

good fa iries w ho show ered him w ith magn ificent endowments,one bad one—as in the old ta le—crept in by stea lth and gaveh im a constitut iona l tw ist i’ the neck

,whereby h is windpipe

became , and has ever since rema ined,a marvellous tortuous

pa ssage . Out of this glottis- labyrinth h is w ords w on’t, and

can’t come stra ight . A h itch and a sha rp crook in every sen

tence bring you up w ith a shock . But what a shock it is?D id you ever see a picture of a lasso, in the act of beingflung ? In a thousand coils and turns, inextricably crookedand involved and w hirled

, yet , i f you ma rk the noose a t the

end, you see that it is directly in front of t he bison’s head,

there, and is bound to catch him ! That is the w ay RobertBrow ning catches you. The first Sixty or seventy pages of


‘

The R ing and the Book’ are a ltogether the most dolefulreading, in point either of idea or of music, in the Englishlanguage ; and yet the monologue of Giuseppe Caponsacchi ,that of Pompilia Comparin i , and the tw o of Guido Franceschini , are unapproachable, in their kind, by any living or deadpoet , me jud ice. Here Brown ing’s jerkiness comes in withinevitable effect . You get lightning- glimpses—and, as one

na tura lly expects from lightn ing, z ig- z ag glimpses—into the

intense night of the passion of these souls. It is ent irelyw onderful and without precedent . The fi t ful play of Guido’slust, and scorn, and hate, and cowardice, closes with a masterstroke

Christ ! Maria ! God !

Pompi l ia , w i l l you l et them murder me?

Pompilia, mark you, is dead, by Guido’s ow n hand ; deliberately

stabbed, because he ha ted her purity, which al l a long he hasreviled and mocked with t he Devil’s ow n ma lignant ingenuityof sa rcasm.

You spoke of a project you wished to tell me. Le t me

hear it. Your plans are al w ays of interest to me . Can Ihelp you? I

’ve not put pen to paper, in the literary w ay , in

a long time . How I thirst to do so, how I long to Sing a

thousand various songs tha t oppress me , unsung—is inexpressible. Yet

, the mere work tha t brings bread gives me no time.

I know not , a fter a l l , i f this is a sorrow ful thing. Nobodylikes my poems except tw o or three friends—who are themselves poets, and can supply themselves !Strictly upon Scriptura l principle , I

’ve w ritten you (as

you see ) almost entirely about mysel f . This is doing unto

you as I would you should do unto me . Go, and do likewise.

Write me about yoursel f .Your friend ,

SIDNEY LAN IER .



petalled rose of George Eliot’s fi ct ion to the beginning ofthe English novel.

THE LEGEND OF ST. LEONOR

(A fragment from an unfi n i shed lecture on“The Rela t ions of Poe try and Science .

From ‘Music and Poet ry.

’Co y righ t , and used here by permi ssion of

rs. Lan i er an Charles Scribner's Sons.

TH E scientific man is merely the min ister of poetry. He

is cutting down the Western Woods of Time ; presently poetry will come there and make a city and gardens. This isa lways so. The man of a ffa irs works for the behoof and

use of poetry. Scient ific facts have never reached thei rproper function until they merge into new poetic rela tionsestablished between man and man, between man and God,or between man and Na ture .

I think I can Show you that this has been precisely recogn i z ed by the hard practica l sense of the common people inother times. I have ca lled t he man of science a pioneer w hocuts down t he Western Woods of the Universe, in order thatpresently Poetry may come to tha t spot and bui ld habitationsand pleasances good for man . Now I never think of t he manof science without comparing h im to one of those w onderfulmonks of t he Six th

,Seventh, and E ighth Centuries w ho came

over into the stern forests of Armorica , bearing rel igion w iththem, but depending, mark you, on the felling of t he forestand the cultivation of the ground as in itia l steps in t he con

version of t he people . And hereby hangs t he legend which Iwish to relate.

Once upon a time St . L eonor, w ith sixty disciples, came toan inhospitable region a t t he mouth of t he Rance in Armorica ,

and settled . Thei r food w as of t he rudest description ,be ing

only what they could obta in from the woods and w aters. One

day the good Bishop Leonor, w hile praying, happened to see

a small bird ca rrying a gra in of w hea t in i t s beak . He immedia tely set a monk to w atching the bird , with instructions tofollow it when itflew away. The monk follow ed the bird ,

and

w as led to a place in the forest where he found severa l sta lksof wheat grow ing. This w as probably the last relic of someancient Ga llo- Roman farm. St . Leonor, on learning the

SIDNEY LANIER 3067

news, w as overjoyed . W e must clear the forest and cultiva te the ground,

”he excla imed, and immediately put the six ty

a t work. Now the work w as hard, and the Sixty disciples

groaned with tribulation as they toiled and sweated over thestubborn oaks and the bria ry underbrush. But when theycame to plough, the labor seemed beyond a l l human endurance.

I do not know how they ploughed ; but it is fa ir to suspectthat they had nothing b etter than forked branches of the

gnarly oaks with sharpened points for ploughs, and as

there is no mention of cattle in the legend, the presumption isfa i r tha t these good brothers hitched themselves to the pl oughand pulled . This presumption is strengthened by the circumstance that , in a short time, the sixty rebelled outright . Theybegged the Bishop to abandon agriculture and go away fromtha t place. Pa ter,

”

(na i vely says the Bollandist recounter ofthe legend ) Pa ter,

” cried the monks, oramus te ut de

loco is to recedas .

”

But the stout old father would not recede. No ; w e mustget into benefi cia l relations with this soil. Then the monksassembled together by night, and, having compared opinions,found it the sense of the meeting that they Should leave thevery next day , even at pa in of the abandonmen t of the Bishop.

SO, next morn ing, when they were about to go, behold ! amiracle stopped them : twelve magn ificent stags ma rched proudly out of the forest and stood by the ploughs, as i f invitingthe yoke . The monks sei z ed the opportun ity. They harnessed the stags, and these dil igently drew the ploughs a l l thatday . When the day

’s work w as done, and the stags were

loosed from harness, they retired into the forest . But nextmorn ing the fa ithful wild creatures aga in made their ap

pearance; and submitted their roya l necks to the yoke . Fiveweeks and three days did these anima ls labor for the bret hren.

When t he ground w as thoroughly prepa red, the Bishoppronounced h is blessing upon the stags, and they passed quietlyback into the recesses of the forest . Then the Bishop sowedh is wheat, and that fi eld w as the fa ther of a thousand otherwhea t - fi elds, and of a thousand other homes, with a l l the

amenities and sweetnesses which are implied in that ravishing word .

Now , here is the point Of this legend in this place. Of

course dse tw elve st ags did not appa r from the forest and

plough , and yet the story is true. The thing w hich actn a l ly

happened w as t ha t the B ishop Leonor, by h is intel l igence, foresight , pract ica l w isdom, and fa i t h ful persevera nce, recl a imed

a piece of st ubborn and impract icable ground, and made i t

good , arable soil . (It is a lso probable that the story w as

inuned ia t e ly sugges t ed by the re- t aming of ca t t l e w h ich the

ancient Ga l lo- Roman people had a ll ow ed to run w il d. The

bishops d id th is somet imes . ) This w as a pract ica l enough

th ing ; it is being done every day ; it w as just as prosai c as anycommercia l transact ion . But , ma rk you,

the people—for t hi slegend is a pure product of t he popular imagina ti on of Bri ttany—the people w ho came a fter saw how the prosa i c w hea t

fi eld of the B ishop had flow ered int o t he poetica l happines sof the rude and w ild inhab itants w ho bega n to ga ther about hisw hea t pa tch, and to plant fields and bui ld homes of thei r ow n ;and, seeing t ha t the prose had actual ly become thus poet i c,the people (w ho love to te ll things as t hey rea lly are , and in

t hei r deeper rela tions ) the people have rela ted it in t erm of

poetry . The b ird and t he stags are terms of poetry. But ,

notice aga in , that these are not silly , poetic licenses ; they are

not merely a chi ld’s embellishments of a story ; the bi rd and

t he stags are not real ; but they are true . For w hat do theymean ? They mean the pow ers of Na ture . They mean , as

here insert ed, tha t i f a man go fort h , sure of his mission, fer

vent ly l oving h is fellow-men, w orking for their benefit ; i f headhere to h is mission through good and evil report ; i f he resistal l endeavor to turn him from it, and fa i thfully stand to hispurpose—presently he will succeed ; for t he pow ers of Na turewill come forth out of the recesses of the universe and offerthemselves as draught - an ima ls to his plough . The popularlegend is merely an afl‘i rma t ion in concret e forms of thisprinciple ; the people, who are a l l poets, know this truth . \Ve

modems, indeed—w e whose pract ica l experiences begga r thewildest dreams of antiquity—have seen a wilder (beast ) creature than a stag come out of the woods for a fa i thful man .

W e have seen steam come and plough the seas for Fulton ;w e have seen lightn ing come and plough the wastes of spa cefor Frankl in and Morse.



so fa irly that he has turned them into a poem meriting his ow ndescription of the -mocking- bird’s song :

A star of music in a fiery cloud.

Having thus spoken in the genuine hope of suggesting toMr. Hayne’s mind a tra in of thought which might be ser

viceable to h is gen ius, w e proceed to rema rk that in‘

Legendsand Lyric’ w e fi nd no polemica l discussion ,

no science ,”no

“progress, no“

Comtism,

”no rugged - termed philosophies, no

devotiona lism, no religiosity of any sort . Mindful only ofgrand phenomena which no one doubts—of fear, hOpe, love ,patriotism, heaven, wife, child, mother, clouds, sunlight, flowers, w ater—these poems tinkle a long like Coleridge’s

h idden brookIn the lea fy month of June,Tha t to the sleep ing w oods a l l n ightSingeth a gentle tune.

This last word indeed hints a t wha t is one of the distinct ivecharacteristics of al l Mr. Hayne’s poetry. It is essentia lly,thoroughly, and charmingly tuneful . - In a time when popularpoetry is either smug and pretty, or philosophica lly Obscureand rhythmica lly rugged, this qua l ity becomes a lmost unique .

There is indeed nearly the same d ifference between poetryand culture -

poetry that exists between music and counterpointmusic. Culture - poetry, like counterpoint - music, is sca rcelyever satisfactory to the ear ; it is not captivat ing with tha t indescribable music which can come out of the rudest heart , butwhich cannot come out of the most cultivated head . Thisfea ture a lone would suffi ce to sepa rate the book before us fromthe grea t mass of utterances which polished people who are

not poets are da ily pouring upon the a ir.

W e Should like to i llustra te Mr. Hayne’s faculty by quotingentire his “

Fire - Pictures,”a poem which in point of va riety

and delicacy of fancy is quite the best of this collection , and

in point of pure music should be placed beside Edga r Poe’s

“

The Bells. O f course, to one who has warmed h is wintersby nothing more glorious than coa l ; to one who has neversa t in dreamful mood and watched the progress Of a greathickory fi re from the fi t ful fuliginous beginn ing thereof,

SI DNEY LANIER 3071

through the w hite bri lliance of i ts prime and t he red glory ofi t s decline, unto the ashen - gray death of the same, this poemis un intelligible ; but to one w ho has, i t s fancies and i t s musicwill come home with a thousand hearty influences. W e regrettha t it is too long to quote here . It is a poem to be reada loud ; a true reci ta t ivo. The energy of i t s movements, themelody of i t s metres, the changes of i t s rhythm,

the va rietyof i t s fancies, t he art istic advance to it s climax, pa rticularlyt he management of i t s close , w here a t one and the same t ime,by the devices of onomatopeia and of rhythmica l imita tion,

are doubly interpreted t he sob of a man and the flicker of aflame so perfectly that sob , fl icker, word, rhythm, each appearsto represent t he other, and to be used convert ibly with the

other in such w i ll - o’- wisp t ransfigura t ions as quite van ish inmere descr ipt ion—a l l these elements require for full enjoyment that t he actua l music of the poem Should fa ll upon t he ear.

Some of t he changes of rhythm above referred to meritespecia l men t ion , and sta rt some considerations which w e re

gret the lim its of this pape r will not a llow us to pursue. Suf

fi ce it here to remark that whenever an English - Speaking person grow s unusua lly sol emn or intense he instinctively resortsto the iambic rhythm for expression . Note

,for instance , how

in number II , a t the close the change from the trochees tothe t w o iambi “

aspire ! aspire !”a t once represents the inten

si t y of the situation and the broken fi t ful ness of the strugglingflame ; or aga in ,

in that fi ne scene of number IV , where t heiambi “

dark - red l ike blood” give t he reader a sudden wrenchfrom the trocha ic flow as i f they plucked him by the sleeveto compel him to stop a second on the thought ; or, aga in,

most notable of a l l , in number VI , where from the words “a

stir, a murmur deep” to t he close of the picture the iambi

present the agony and the glory of the martyr. With thesethree ex cept ions the ent ire poem is in troches, and is an ad

mirable example of the music which can be made with thoseelements. Return to number IX of this poem, from

Lik e a rivulet rippl ing deep,Through the meadow - lands of sleep,

to i t s close is, in point of pure trocha ic music, of rare excellence . W e desire, however, to ca ll Mr. Hayne’s attention to a


fault of tone which occurs in this picture, and in another ofthe poems of this book. Where the lines run

Though the lotos sw ings i t s stemWi th a lull ing sti r of l eaves.

Though the lady - l i ly lavesCoy feet in crysta l w aves,And a si lvery undertuneFrom some mystic w ind- song gri eves,

leaves of course is intended to rhyme with grieves, fourlines down, and

“ laves” with waves” ; but“ laves” is the next

rhyme - tone to leaves, and this proximity renders it obnox ious to two objections. One is, that it leaves the reader for amoment in doubt whether “ laves is rea lly intended to rhymewith “ leaves”—a doubt which interferes with the reader’senjoyment as long as it lasts. The other and stronger ohject ion is, tha t the immedia te juxtaposition of the slightlyvarying rhyme - tones “ leaves” and

“ laves” gives t he car the

same displeasure wh ich the eye suffers from tw o shades ofthe same color in a lady’s dress—both tones seem faded. The

faults of “

Fire - Pictures” are faults which w e detect in a l l

Mr. Hayne’s poetry ; and as they are remediable, w e ca ll h isattention to them with al l the more vigor. They are of tw oclasses. First, w e Observe a frequently - recurring l aps us ofthought, in which Mr. Hayne fa lls into trite similes

,worn

collocations of words, and common -

place sentiments. To havethese hackneyed couples of words and ideas continua lly popping in upon us out of Mr. Hayne’s beaut i ful things is tosuffer the chagrin and the anguish of tha t hapless man w ho

in the hot summer r ushes a far from toil and trouble acrossthe ocean into a distant land , and there in the heavenly wea ther,while idly wandering down some wild and lovely glen , givenup to a l l tender meditations, suddenly, on pushing aside a greatfrond of fern ,

comes bump upon the smug, fam ilia r faces ofSmith

,Jones

,and Brown ,

whom he had le ft amid the hot

grind of the street, and whose presence immediately transports him back to the sweaty moi] of stocks, bacon , and dry

goods. Such expressions are : changing like a wi z ardthought , or,

“ l ike a charmed thought,”or

“ like a Proteant hought, and others in “

Fire- Pictures. More notable still



in some minor phrase, but dashes down the first term thatoccurs, i f it will but answer tolerably, so tha t presently, fromhabit , a certa in favored few adjectives come to understand, asit were, that this duty is expected of them, and get tra inedto stand by and help whenever the poet

’s mind is fatigued or

hurried .

Perhaps the nearest approaches to the idea l of lyric poetryin this book are the invoca tion to the w i fe w ith wh ich it commences—as it were, grace before meat—and the poem ca lled“A Summer Mood,

” based on a l ine from Thomas Heyw ard :Now ,

by my fa ith, a gruesome mood for summer.”From

t he latter w e quote a line out of the third verse, and the lastthree verses

The sunsh ine mocks the tears i t may not dry ,

a: a: a: It: a: a:

The fi eld- birds seem to tw i t us as they pass,Wi th their sma ll bl isses, piped so clear and loudThe cricket triumphs o

’er us in the gra ss ;

And the lark glancing beam - l ike up the cloud,

S ings us to scorn w i th h is keen rhapsodiesSma ll things and grea t unconscious tauntings bringTo edge our ca res, w hi lst w e, the proud and w i se,Envy the insect’s j oy, the b irdl ing

’s w ing !

And thus for evermore t i ll time sha ll cea se ,Man’s soul and Na ture s—ea ch a separa te spherehRevolves, the one in di scord, one in peace,And w ho sha ll make the solemn mystery clear?

The stanz a of this poem in which the fi el d - birds twit usas they pass, with their sma ll blisses, is a genuine snat chcaught from out the sedges of a Southern field ,

w here w e

doubt not Mr. Hayne has often strolled or la in , compan ionedonly by the small crooked -flight ed spa rrow, whose whistle ,so keen that it amounts to a hiss, seems to have suggested thevery sibi l la t ions of the S

’s so frequently Occurring. In In

Ut roque Fidelis”is beauti fully blended a tone of tranqui l

description with that of a passionate love - song. A lover aboutto be off to the wars has stolen a t midn ight to snatch a fare

SIDNEY LANIER 3075

well glance a t the home of his beloved . The fol lowingverses Show something of the art of the poem

I w a ft a sigh from this fond soul to thine,A l i ttle sigh, yet honey- laden, dear,Wi th fa iry freightage of such hopes divineAs fa in w ould flutter gently a t thine ear,

And entering fi nd their w ay

Dow n to t he heart so vei led from me by day .

In dreams, in dreams, perchance thou art not coyAnd one keen hOpe more bold th an a l l the restMay touch thy spiri t w i th a tremulous joy,And stir an answ ering softness in thy breast .0 sleep, 0 blest ecl ipse !

What murmured w ord is fa ltering a t her l ips?i n s s s s s

Sti ll , brea thless sti ll ! No voice in earth or a Ir

I only know my del ica te darl ing l ies,A tw i l ight lustre gl immering in her ha ir,And dew s of peace w i th in her languid eyes

Yea , only know tha t IAm ca l led from love and dreams perhaps to die,

D ie w hen the heavens are thick w i th scarlet ra in,And every time- throb’s fated : even thereHer face w ould sh ine through m ists of morta l pa in,And sw eeten death l ike some incarna te prayer.

Hark ! ’Tis the trumpet

’s sw ell !0 love, 0 dreams, farew el l, farew ell, farew ell !

In the pa rticula r of tranqui l description , however, somegood work occurs in the “

Ode to Sleep .

” Witness the following ex tracts, which form the beginning and the end Of thepoem

Beyond the sunset and t he amber sea ,

To the lone depths of ether, cold and bare,Thy influence, soul of a l l tranqui ll i ty,Ha l low s t he earth and aw es the reverent a ir.

It: s s It: It: It:

Then w oo me here amid these flow ery charmsBrea the on my eyel ids, press th ine odorous l ipsClose to mine ow n , enfold me in thine arms,And cloud my spiri t w i th thy sw eet eclipse ;

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

And w hi l e from w an ing depth to dept h l fa l l ,

Dow n - lapsing to the utmost dept hs of a l l ,Til l w an forgetfulness, obscurely stea l ing,Creeps l ik e an incan ta tion on the soul

And o’er the slow ebb of my consci ous l i fe

D ies the thin flush of the la st consci ous fee l ingAnd, l ik e aborti ve thunder, the dul l rollOf sul l en passions ebbs far, far aw ay0Angel ! loose the chords w hi ch cl ing to st ri fe,

Sever the gossamer bondage of my brea th,And let me pass, gen tly as w inds in May ,From the dim rea lm w hi ch ow ns thy shadow y sw ay,To thy divi ner sleep, 0 sacred Dea th !

W e would like to pra ise Glaucus”for the fi ne spirit - Of

green- leaves, which makes t he poem so da inty and shady and

0001. W e would like, too, to discuss with Mr. Hayne whetherthe cl ima ct eric point in the ta le of “

The Wife of Britt any”

w hich is the moment when t he Wife meets Aurel ian for t hepurpose of performing her drea dful promise—d oes not needa more drama tic accentua tion to relieve it from t he dangerof ant i - climax to which this wonderfully smooth na rra tive isl iable a t tha t point . W e could wish furt her to commend theadmi rably harmon iz ed tone of “

Prex aspes ,” where the words

seem a t once hot , w an ,cruel , and wicked ; and t he elegant

rendering of “

E thra ,”w hich is quite the most a rt istica lly told

ta le in the book ; and t he reverent piety which shines in the

fina l offering to the poet’s mother ; and many other things.

But this paper has a lready rea ched i t s limit . W e may be per

mi t ted in closing it to Observe that already, S ince the publication of

‘

Legends and Lyrics ,’other poems of Mr. H ayne’s

have appea red, as for example the tw o“

Forest Pict ures” int he At lant ic Monthly , which exh ibit a growing strengt h and

more vigorous rea l ism in h is poetic faculty ; and w e ventureto express the hOpe tha t h is pen may yet embody t he prettyfancy of his poem ca lled

THE NEST

At the poet’s li fe - core lying,

I s a sheltered and sacred nest ,

W here, as y et unfledged for flying,H is ca llow fancies rest


HENRY LAURENS

[1 724- 1 792]

D. D W ALLACE

HENRY LAURENS w as born in Charleston, South Carol ina ,February 24, 1 724, and died a t Mepkin Planta tion, tw enty

n ine mi les up COOper River above the ci ty, D ecember 8, 1 792. The

fa ther, John Lauren s, of French Huguenot descent, came to Charleston from New York in 1 7 1 5 or 1 7 1 6. He w as a man of grea t decision ,

sternness, and energy. Left dependent upon h is ow n ex ertions,he learned the saddler’s trade , and as the proprietor of a large businessleft h is chi ldren a fa ir pa trimony. H enry La urens so improved hisadvantages as to become one of the w ea lth i est merchants in the

province.Laurens’ school ing w as l imi ted ; but he became such a reader

as to be esteemed a man of culture. H e w as given careful tra in ingin business . At about the age of six teen he w as placed in t he counting

- house of the London merchant, James Croka t t , a t one time agentof the Colony of South Carol ina . Decl in ing a partnersh ip w i thCroka t t , he returned to South Carol ina in 1 747, landing a few daysa fter hi s father’s dea th. He immed ia tely Opened a factorage and

comm i ssion business, but soon returned to London on a renew edoffer from Croka t t , only to be di sappointed a t findi ng himsel fex cluded by a mi sunderstanding. H is revulsion w as strong, and he

came out of i t no longer a young Engl i shman , w avering betw eenCha rleston and London ,

but thenceforth , though s incerely loya l tot he Bri tish Empire, an American,

indissolubly a ttached to his nativesoi l.Return ing to Charleston

,Laurens commenced a long career of

remarkable success as a factor, comm ission merchant and independent trader. D ea l ing in slaves and in l iquors w ent hand in handw i th other l ines in those days, and w e find Laurens becoming one

of the most trusted consignees for the Engl i sh merchants engagedin the “African trade.” The socia l dist inction and ga in fulness ofland- ow ning l ed Laurens to become a large planter, and he diedpossessed of about acres and one hundred thousand dollars’

w orth of slaves.On June 25, 1 750, Laurens married Eleanor Ba ll , a most devoted3079


w i fe, w ho bore him t en chi ldren“ and, in 1 770, gave up her ow n l i fea t the birth of the la st. H is a ffections w ere very strong, and he

w as prostra ted for months a t h is loss.Laurens w as elected a member of the Commons House of As

semb ly in 1 756 or 1 757, and reelected a lmost cont inuously unti lt he Revolution, though somet imes opposed by the “Mechan ics and

Radica ls. I n 1 761 he w as appo inted L ieutenant - colonel of the SouthCarol ina Regiment sent to the Cherokee W ar. I n 1 764 he decl inedan appointment to the Counci l . Laurens, by his instincts and tra ining, w as a steady, con servat ive man . Th i s l ed h im, though opposedto the oppressive acts of England, to condemn a l l violence in ret a l i

at ion . Thus be condemned the Stamp Act and sought by const i tu

t iona l means i t s repea l ; but he defied w i th such courage t he mobtha t invaded hi s house as to w in their cheers.In 1 767, 1 768, and 1 769, severa l of Laurens

’ ships w ere sei z edby the Collector of. Customs a t Charleston. Egerton Le igh, t he Judgeof Vice - admira lty, Attorney - genera l , Surveyor- genera l, Counci lorand priva te a ttorney a l l in one, a cqui tted a l l but one of the vessels,but condemned a vessel w hose ca se w as substant ia lly t he same as tha tof those acqui tted. The Judge w as l ed into an embarra ssing posi tionby h is double rela tion of priva te a ttorney for the Col lector and judgeof h is acts. Laurens publ ished in 1 769 so sca thing a crit ici sm as toput Le igh into such a d i lemma that he w as forced to res ign his

judgeship. He rece ived commenda t ions on every side, and w e mayagree w i th McCrady tha t the a ff a ir played i t s part in prepa ringSouth Carol ina for the Revolution .

Though presiding over turbulent meet ings , and approving ofnon - importa tion , Laurens took no part in t he v iolence of the preRevolutionary di sturbances before 1 775 . I n the fiercest struggle everw aged betw een t he King and the people

’s representa tives in SouthCarol ina , on their appropria ting on their sole authori ty sterl ing to support const itut iona l l iberty in the cause of John W i lkes,Laurens w as an unbending champ ion of t he right of the people tod ispose of their ta x es absolutely a s they pleased, and decla red tha the w ould forfei t his estate and earn h is bread by the labor of hishands ra ther than submi t to the King’s instruct ions.As the Revolution approached, he ranged h imsel f w ith those w ho

desired, i f possible, to rema in under the flag of the ir b irth and aucest ry , but w ho, as Engl i shmen have done since England w as a country,w ould die , i f need be, ra ther than surrender the ir l iberty.

‘ Of Laurena’s t en ch i ldren on ly John , Mart ha , Hen ry, and E leanor l ived to ma turi ty .

!ohn w as ki lled in ba t t l e in 1 782; Mart ha marri ed D avid Ramsemse y ; E lea nor, Charlesinckney ; and Henry, w ho marri ed John Rut ledge’s daught er Eli z a , a lone transmi t t ed

the fami ly name.



embarka tion of Burgoyne’s army. H is letters show tha t he w as

thoroughly convin ced of t he n ecessi ty of the step beca use of trea chcry on t he part of t he Bri ti sh ; and there w ere circumstances w h icha t t he time made such appear to be t he ca se.H is res igna ti on of the Presiden cy w as caused by h is di sgust a t the

l en i en t dea ling of Congress w ith Si la s D eane, w ho had behaved w i thgrea t lax i ty, i f nothing w orse, w hi le representing t he Un ited Sta tesin France. Laurens strongly suspected D ean e of d i shonorably en ri ching himsel f. In conclusion , sa id La urens : “As I cannot, consi sten tlyw i th my ow n honor and w ith t he uti li ty of my country, cons ideringt he manner in w h ich business is conducted here, rema in longer inth i s cha ir, I now resign .

”

Lauren s con t inued in Congress, and on November 1, 1 779, w as

commissioned to borrow in Holland. H is departure w asdelayed, and w hen he sa i led August 1 3, 1 780,

i t w as to negot ia tea trea ty of ami ty and commerce. On t he th ird of September he w as

captured and sent to London , w here he w as confined for fi fteenmonths in the Tow er on susp icion of high trea son . The trea tmen taccorded h im by the min istry throughout h is captivi ty leaves no

doubt tha t the ir obj ect w as to break h is Sp iri t or seduce h is honor ;and, a fter leading h im into the rea l trea son of repud ia ting the

American cause, use the ex ample of such an em inent c iti z en of theStruggl ing Republ ic to destroy the Sp iri t and hopes of the Americans .But t he plucky Huguenot, though captured , could not be conquered.

Among t he annoyances to w h ich he w a s subj ected, in additionto being compelled to support h imsel f, w a s a demand tha t he payt he w ages of h is tw o gua rds. He repl ied “ I f I w ere possessed ofas many guineas a s w ould fill th is room,

I w ould not pay t he w a rdens,w hom I never employed , and w hose a ttendance I Sha l l be glad todispense w ith . Attempts, sir

, to t ax men w i thout the ir ow n con

sent have involved th i s k ingdom in a bloody seven years’ w ar. I

thought she had long S ince prom ised to abandon the proj ect.”He peti t ioned Parl iament for perm i ssion to see h is young son

and for relea se by ex change . In so doing he rehearsed h is a ff ectionand modera te conduct tow ard England before the Revolut ion . Thesepapers are not heroic ; but they a re not in any sense a “ subm i ssion ,

”

as they have often been ca lled. He rema ined defiant in every a t

tempt to shake h is a ttachment to America , and kept up through h isfriends and the “

republ ican” press of London a systemat ic campa ignto bring the min ist ry and publ ic to recogn i z e the hopelessness ofreducing the Un i ted States. Adams could truly say

“Ne ither thea ir of England, nor the seductive address of her inhab itants, nor

the terrors of the Tow er, have made any change in h im.

”

After h is release, Laurens proceeded to Paris as one of the pea ce

HENRY LAURENS 3083

comm iss ioners. Adams w ri tes Mr. Laurens has been here and

has behaved w i th great caution, firmness, and w i sdom. He arrivedso la te as only to a ttend t he tw o last days of the con ference, thetw enty- n inth and th irt ieth of November. But t he short time he w as

w i th us he w as of grea t service to the cause. He has done grea tservice to America in England, w here his conversation has beensuch as the purest and fi rmest Ameri can could w i sh i t , and has mademany converts. He has gone aga in to Bath , and his j ourney w i lldo as much good to his country as to h is hea lth .

”

The dea th of h is brother in sout hern France imposed uponLaurens the care of h is sister- in - l aw and her a ffa irs, and delayedh i s return to America unt i l 1 784. He passed his rema in ing yearsas a progressive, ex perimenting, ex tremely humane South Carol inaplanter. H is time w as divided betw een h is house in the ci ty and hisplanta tion . Many sorrow s had borne hard upon him, and now h i s

gout vex ed h im cruelly. H is fellow - citi z ens a ttempted t ime and

aga in to force office upon h im ; but he re fused even to serve a fterbe ing el ect ed

'

to the Convent ion of 1 787. Though not in pol itics,i t i s pla in he w ould have been a Federa l ist, i f for no other reasonthan h is adm iration of Wash ington.

Laurens’s private character w as in every w ay admirable. I n an

age of lax i ty, h is conduct w as marked by the rect i tude of the Huguenot . He exh ib ited in many w ays t he influence of his French Protest ant ancestry . Yet he w as no ascetic, but ra ther show ed w ha tEngl ishmen know a s t he softer s ide of Puri tan ism.

His indulgence to h is sl aves w as ex traord inary,and he provided

for their re l igious instruction .

“Be kind to Berom under h is afll ict ion ,

he w rites to an overseer, “and give the w omen and ch i ldren

flannel cloth ing, and blankets to a l l w ho need them .

” He di schargedharsh Overseers, no ma tter how profitable. About 1 763 he w i thdrewfrom the slave trade because of t he cruelt ies he w i tnessed a fter hesold the negroes and before they w ere put on planta tions. On August1 4, 1 776, he w ri tes tha t he h as long abhorred slavery and w i ll emaneipate h i s one hundred thousand dollars

’w orth of slaves ; but so many

interests bes ides h is ow n w ere involved that th is intention w as neverfulfil led.

Laurens w as a quiet Epi scopa l ian and very active in rel igious and

chari table w ork. Yet he w as broadly tolerant, and even as a boyrevolted a t t he passage in the Prayer Book w h ich condemned to hella l l w ho do not accept the Athanasian Creed. H is letters abound inScripture quota tion s, and even in afflict ion he bursts out, l ike Job,w i th triumphant fa ith and pra ise. A favorite practice w as to tracethe origin of passages in l iterature to the ir B ibl ica l origina ls.Yet this good man w as not in frequently quick and unchari table


in h is judgments, and sometimes revea led a dash of acid in h is nature.I n anger he w ould hurl coarse ep ithets a t an antagon ist, and laterplead and pray w ith the same repentant enemy. H is m ind w orkedw i th the preci sion of a mach ine . Conci se as Ca lhoun , h is letters aremost lucid, clear- cut , direct, and unambiguous. He w as a man ofstrong emotions, and w hen these w ere aroused in a ph i l ipp ic aga instunw orthy publ ic servants or in passages of a ffection to h is ch i ldren,

he ri ses into the rea lm of l i tera ture. Genera lly, his charm di sappearsw hen he takes up h is pen to compose for the publ ic. H i s w ri t ings areconfined to his thousands of letters, many of them of grea t length , t henarrat ive of his captiv ity, three or four pamphlets, some new spaperarti cles, and a few scrappy minutes of debates.H is daughter, Martha , in a ca se of sma l lpox ,

had been pronounceddead and w as la id beside a w indow to aw a i t buria l ; but l i fe w as dis

covered and she w as saved. Th i s incident so impressed h im w ith t hehorror of being interred a l ive tha t Laurens concluded h is w i ll w i ththe solemn injunction that h is body should be burned ; and a few

yards from h is house at Mepkin on the Cooper R iver this w as done,w hi le h is ch i ldren stood by and the servants quaked in terror a t the

w eird spectacl e.

LETTER TO JOHN LAURENS

CHARL ESTON,SOUTH CAROL INA

,1 4th August , 1 776.

I TOLD you in my last that I w as going to Georgia . Ibegan my journey the I st of May and a t Wright’s, Savannah

,Brotou Island, and New Hope, found crops of rice

amoun t ing to about thirt een hundred ba rrels, w h ich I causedto be removed to places less exposed to t he threatened depredat ions of pica roons from St . Augustine, in such places tha tgrea t va lue still rema ins. I have l a tely learned tha t each plant a t ion is aga in well covered—the best crop, they say , tha t everw as borne a t Brotou Island—but w hat of that ? The w hole

will either be destroyed , stolen , or l ie w ith t he farmer to perish by time and vermin—no sma ll sacrifice a t t he Shrine ofliberty, and yet very sma ll compared w ith that w h ich I a m

w illing to make ; not only crops, but land, li fe, and a l l must



nevertheless disl iked it . In former days there w as no com

ha t ing the prejud ices Of men support ed by interest ; t he dayI hope is approa ching when, from pri nciples of gra titude as

w e l l as justice , every man will strive to be foremost in showing h is read iness to comply with the golden rul e. Not lessthan twenty thousand pounds sterling w oul d a l l my negroesproduce i f sold a t public auct ion to-morrow . I am not the man

who enslaved them ; they are indebted to Englishmen for tha tfavour ; nevert heless I am devising means for ma numittingmany of them

,and for cutting Off t he en ta il of Slavery. Grea t

powers oppose me—the laws and customs of my country, myow n and the ava rice of my countrymen. Wh a t w ill my children say i f I deprive them of so much estate ? These are di f

fi cul t ies, but not insuperable. I w i l l do as much as I ean inmy time, and leave the rest to a better hand .

I am not one of those who a rroga te t he pecul ia r ca re Of

Providence in each fortunate event, nor one of those who daret rust in Providence for defence and security of thei r ow n libert y whi le they enslave and w ish to continue in Slavery thousands who are as well entitled to freedom as themselves. Iperceive the w ork be fore me is great . I Sha ll appea r to manyas a promoter not only Of strange, but of dangerous doctrines ;it w i ll therefore be necessa ry to proceed w ith caution . You

are appa rently deeply interested in this affa ir, but as I haveno doubts concern ing your concurrence and approba tion , Imost S incerely wish for your advice and assistance, and hopeto rece ive both in good time.

t t t a t t

After the attack upon Sullivan’s Island , seconded by

ravages and murders by the Cherokee Ind ians on our westernfrontier, w ho probably acted i n concerted plan w ith t he Sh ipsand troops, I believe there w ere few men here w ho had not

lost al l inclina tion for renewing our former connex ion withyour king and his min isters ; however that might have been ,

t he grea t point is now settled. ..Ou the 2d instant a courier

arrived from Philadelph ia , and brought a decla ra tion of t he4th of July, by the representatives of the thi rteen un ited colonies in congress met , tha t from thenceforw ard those colon iesshould be “

Free and Independent States.

”You have no doubt

seen the paper, or wi l l in a few days see the copy often re

HENRY LAURENS 3087

peat ed a t full length ; therefore I need not ma rk the part icular contents. Th is decla ra t ion w as procla imed in Cha rlestonwith great solemn ity on Monday, the st h inst . , a ttended by a

procession of president, councils, genera ls, members of as

semb ly , Ofli cers civil and milita ry, &c. , &c.,amidst loud accla

ma tions of thousands w ho a lways huz z a when a proclamation is read . To many

, w ho from the rashness, impolicy and

cruelty of t he Bri tish admini strat ion ,had foreseen this event,

t he scene w as serious, important and awful. Even a t thismoment I feel a tea r of a ffection for the good old country andfor the people in it, whom in genera l I dea rly love . There Isaw the sword Of state which I had be fore seen four severa ltimes unshea thed in decla rations of w ar aga inst France and

Spa in by the Georges, now unshea thed and borne in a declaration Of w ar aga inst George the Th ird . I say even a t thismoment my heart is full of the lively sensa tions Of a duti fulson, thrust by the hand Of violence out Of a father

’s house into

t he w ide w orld . Wha t I have Often w ith truth averred inL ondon and Westminster, I da re stil l aver ; not a sober man,

and scarcely a single man in America wished for a sepa ra tionfrom Grea t Bri ta in . Your king, too, I feel for ; he has beengrea tly deceived and abused .

t 1k a: at: a:

I am now by the w ill of God brought into a new w orld,and

God on ly know s w hat sort of a w orld i t wi l l be ; w ha t may be

your pa rt icular op in ion of this change I know not . You havedone w el l to avoid w riting on polit ics. Remember you are offull age, entitled to judge for yoursel f ; p in not your fa ithupon my sleeve but act the part which an honest hea rt a ftermature deliberation Sha ll d ictate , and your services on t he

side w hich you may take, because you think it the right side,w i ll be more va luab le .

I need not tell you w hatevermay be your determinat ions, toavoid a l l party disputes, and to act inoffensively and circumspect ly in t he state w here you are . I cannot rejoice in t he

down fa ll of an Old friend,of a pa rent from w hose nurturing

breasts I have draw n my support and st rengt h ; every evilw hich be fa lls old England grieves me . Would to God she had

listened in time to the cries of her ch i ldren , and had checkedt he insidious slanders of those w ho ca ll themselves the king’s


servants and the king’s friends, especia lly such of them as

had been transported to America in t he character of civil Officers. I f my ow n interests, i f my ow n rights a lone had beenconcerned, I w ould most freely have given the whole to thedemands and disposa l of her min isters in pre ference to a

sepa ration ; but the rights of posterity w ere involved in the

question . I happened to stand as one Of their representatives,and da red not betray my trust .

at: at: at:

May God protect and guide you a l l, and may he still give

peace and mutua l friendship to t he divided family of Brita in ,

and promote the happiness, equa lly of the ancient root and ofthe transplanted branches. I f you do not come

,enquire for

opportunities in Hol land and in France, and write as oft as

you can , and Harry too.

Adieu, my dear, dea r son .

HENRY LAUREN S .

IN THE TOW ER OF LONDON

ABOUT I 1 O’clock a t night I w as sent under a st rong gua rd,

up three pa ir of sta irs in Scotland Ya rd , into a very sma llchamber. Tw o king’s messengers w ere placed for t he w holenight a t one door, and a suba l tern’

s guard of sold iers a t the

other. As I w as, and had been for some days, so i l l as to beincapable of getting into or out of a ca rriage , or up or dow n

sta i rs, w ithout help, I looked upon al l th is parade to be ca l

cul a t ed for intimida t ion . My sp irits w ere good , and I smi led

inw ardly. The nex t morn ing, 6th October, from Scot land

Ya rd, I w as conducted aga in under gua rd to t he secret ary’sOfli ce, White Ha ll , where were present L ord H i l lsborough ,

Lord Stormont,Lord George Germa in ,

Mr. Chamberl a in,

Solicitor of the Treasury, Mr. Knox, Under - Secret arv Mr.

Justice Addingt on,and others. I w as first a sked , by Lord

Stormont,“ I f my name w as Henry L aurens.

” “

Cert a in ly ,my

Lord,that is my name.

”Capta in Keppel w as asked ,

“ I f tha tw as Mr. L aurens ?” He answered in the afl‘i rma t ive .

H is Lordship then sa id : “Mr. Laurens, w e have a paperhere” (holding the paper up ) , purporting to be a commis



from the beginn ing of my confinement to the end ; and I cont rived, a fter be ing told of t he Governor

’

s humane declara tion,

so to garn ish my window s by honey suckles, and a grape - vinerunn ing under them, as to concea l mysel f entirely from the

sight of starers, and a t the same time to have mysel f a fullview of them. Governor Gore conducted me to my apartments a t a w a rder’s house . As I w as entering t he house Iheard some Of the people say : Poor old gentleman , boweddown w ith infi rmi t ies. He is come to l ay h is bones here .

My reflection w as,“ I sha ll not leave a bone w ith you.

”

I w as very sick, but my Spiri ts w ere good, and my mindforeboding good from the event of be ing a prisoner in London .

Their Lordships’orders were,

“To confine me a close prisoner ;to be locked up every n ight ; to be in t he custody of tw o wardens, w ho were not to suffer me to be out of the ir sight onemomen t, day or n ight ; to a llow me no liberty of speaking toany person,

nor to permit any person to speak to me ; to deprive me of the use of pen and ink ; to suffer no letter to bebrought to me, nor any to go from me,

”et c. As an apology,

I presume, for thei r first rigor,t he wardens gave me their or

ders to peruset a:

And now I found mysel f a close prisoner, indeed ; shut upin tw o sma l l rooms, w h ich together made about tw enty feetsquare ; a warder my constant compan ion ; and a fix ed bayonetunder my w indow ; not a friend to converse w ith , and no prospect of a correspondence.

Next morn ing, 7th October, Gov. Gore came into myroom

,with a w orkman

, and fixed iron ba rs to my w indow s ;a ltogether unnecessary . The various guards w ere enough tosecure my person . It w as done

,as I w as in formed, either to

shake my mind or to mort i fy me . It had neither effect . Ionly thought Of Mr. Chamberla in’

s consolat ion . I asked Mr.

Gore, Wha t provision w as to be made for my support ?”H e

replied“

H e had no d irections. I sa id ,

“ I can very w ell provide for myse l f, but I must be a llow ed means for Obta in ingmoney .

”H e gave no answ er.

In a word, I d iscovered I w as to pay rent for my littlerooms, fi nd my ow n meat and drink, bedding, coa ls, candles,e tc. Th is drew from me an observation to t he gentleman

HENRY LAURENS 3091

ja i l er (the officer who locks up a prisoner every night) , w howoul d immedia tely report it to the Governor : Whenever Icaught a bird in America I found a cage and victua ls for it.”

What surprised me most w as, a lthough the Secretaries ofSta te had seen the i ll state of my health and must a lso havehea rd of my continuing i ll by reports, da i ly made to them,

theynever ordered, or caused to be provided for me, any medica lassistance . The people a round me thought, for a considerablet ime, my li fe in imminent danger. I w as of a different Opin ion.

When the Governor had retired from h is iron bars, neither myservant nor baggage being yet arrived, I asked the wa rder,

“ I fhe could lend me a book for amusement .” H e gravely askedWill your honor be pleased to have Drel incourt uponDeath ?” I quickl y turned to his wife , who w as passing frommaking up my bed :

“

Pray,Madam, can you recommend an

honest goldsmith, w ho wi ll put a new head to my cane ; you see

this Old head is much worn ?” “Yes

, sir, I can .

”The people

understood me, and nothing more w as sa id of Drel incourt .”

The 8th, Governor Gore, hypocritica lly kind, came and

told me I had leave to wal k about the Tower (he had t e

ceived the order from General Vernon ) but advised, I wouldon ly w a lk the parade be fore the door ;

“ i f you go fa rther,sa id be, there will be such a rabble a fter you. I treatedhis kindness w ith contempt, and refused to wa lk. The pa radeis the very place where he had predetermined to expose me.

The order of Genera l Vernon,received by him from the

Secretaries of State w as,“ that I should be permitted to w a lk

the Tow er grounds. Mr. Gore a ttempted to supersede both .

The Governor grew uneasy, and asked the wardens why Ihad not wa lked ? They answ ered that I w as lame with thegout . Sunday, 1 2th November, hobbled out ; a wa rder witha sword in h is hand, a t my back ; the warder informedme Governor Gore had ordered that I should wa lk only on theparade ; I returned immedia tely to my little prison . The

1 6th, the Governor, more uneasy, jea lous and fea rful ofGenera l Vernon, sent me notice I might wa lk the broad pavement ( 1 1 5 ya rds) be fore the grea t a rmory, and within the

a rmory, al l arbitra ry on his part ; but the wa lk w ithin the

build ing w as very agreeable, it w ould afford suffi cient ex ercise, and viewing the quantity and variety of milita ry stores,


&c. , &c. , w as amusing. I visited the place a lmost every day ,t ill t he th ird December, w hen going there , Lord GeorgeGordon (w ho) w as a lso a prisoner in the Tow er, unlucki lymet , and asked me to w a lk with him. I declined i t , and t e

turned instantly to my apa rtment. The Governor. be ing informed oi th is by one Of his spies, a lthough t he w arder ex

pla ined and proved to him I w as in no respect a transgressor,caught hold Of t he occasion

, and locked me up . I rema ined,thus closely confi ned by his a rbitrary w ill

,forty - seven day s ;

i f any , the fault w as in Lord George , but the bruta l Governordared not lock him up .

Sunday, 1 8th , Genera l Vernon ,having been fully in

formed by a friend In the Tow er Of the Governor’s a rbitra rylocking me up from t he third December, ca lled and very kindlyenquired, i f I took my wa lks abroad as usua l . I replied in t henegative, and candidly ex pla ined w hat had passed betw een t he

Governor and mysel f . H e w as ex ceedingly disp leased and sa ida loud—t he people below sta irs heard h im—“

I’

l l take care togive orders that you may wa lk w hen you please and where

you please !”H e gave orders, not to the Governor, but to Mr.

Kinghorn, an in ferior offi cer . The z 2d February, w a lkedabroad, first t ime since th ird D ecember . The Governor veryangry, and much mort ified ,

I must ex pect the effect of h is i l lnature in some other w ay ; but I desp ise h im . Monday, 26thFebrua ry

,Mr. Osw a ld having sol icited the Secreta ries Of Sta te

for my enlargement upon parole, and Offered to pledge h is

whole fortune as surety for my good conduct ,”sent me the

follow ing message , in add it ion to t he above by Mr. Kinghorn ,

the gentleman ja i lor : “Thei r Lordsh ips say ,i f you w i l l point

out anyth ing for the benefit Of Grea t Brita in , in the presentdispute w ith the Colon ies, you Sha l l be enlarged . The first

part of the message overw helmed me w ith fee l ings of grat itude, t he latter filled me w ith ind igna t ion . I sna tched up my

pencil , and upon a sudden impulse w rote a note to Mr. Osw a ldas follow s, and sent it by t he same Mr. Kinghorn :

“ I perceive, my dea r friend , from t he message you havesent me by Mr. Kinghorn ,

tha t i f I w ere a rasca l , I m ight

presently get out of t he Tow er—I am not . You have pledgedyour w ord and fortune for my integri ty . I w i l l never dishonor you, nor mysel f . Yes, I could point out , but is th is the



this as from mysel f, not by pa rticular direct ion or authority ;but I know it will be so. You can write tw o or three lines tothe min isters, and ba rely say , you are sorry for w ha t is past .A pardon wi l l be granted. Every man has been wrong, a t

some time or other of his li fe, and should not be ashamed toacknowledge it . I now understood Mr. Oswal d , and couldeasi ly perceive my worthy friend w as more than ha l f ashamedof his mission. Without hesita tion, I replied,

“ Sir,I will

never subscribe to my ow n in famy, and to the dishonor of mychildren.

” Mr. Oswa ld then ta lked of long and pa in ful confi nement , which I should suffer, and repea ted possible con

sequences.

” “Permit me to repeat, Sir,

”sa id I ,

“ I am a fra idof no consequences but such as w ould flow from dishonorablea cts.

” Mr. Oswa ld desired, I w ould take t ime, weigh the ma tter properly in my mind, and let him hea r from me.

” I concluded by assuring him,

“he never would hea r from me in

terms of compliance ; i f I could be so base, I w as sure Ishould incur h is contempt . Mr. Oswa ld took leave with suchexpressions of regard and such a squeez e of the hand, as induced me to believe he w as not displeased with my determination . In the course of this conversa tion ,

I asked,“Why min

ist ers were so desi rous of having me about their persons.

”

Mr. Oswa ld sa id,“They thought I had great influence In Amer

ica . I answered,I once had some influence in my ow n

country ; but it would be in me the h ighest degree of arrogance to pretend to have a general influence in America . Iknow of but one man , of whom this can be sa id ; I mean Genera l Washington. I will suppose for a moment, the Genera lshould come over to your min isters. What would be the

effect ? H e would instantly lose a l l h is influence, and be ca lleda rasca l . Mr. Duché dreamed tha t he had an influence evenover the Genera l . What w as t he consequence of h is apostasy ?W as the course of America n proceedings interrupted ? By

no means. He w as execrated, and the Americans went forward .

September 23rd .—For some t ime past I have been fre

quently and strongly tempted to make my escape from t he

Tower, assured,“ It w as the advice and desire of a l l my friends,

t he thing might be easily effected, the face of American a f

fa irs w as extremely gloomy. That I might have eighteen

HENRY LAURENS 3095

hours’ start be fore I w as missed time enough to reach Mar

gate and Ostend ; tha t it w as believed there would be no pur

suit ,”etc. , etc. I had a lw ays sa id : I ha te the name of a

runaw ay.

”At length I put a stop to fa rther applica tions by

saying, I w i ll not a ttempt an escape . The gates were openedfor me to enter ; they sha ll be opened for me to go out of t heTower. God Almighty sent me here for some purpose. Iam determined to see the end of it . Where the project of anescape originated is uncerta in ; but I am fully convinced itw as not the scheme of the person w ho spoke to me upon thesubject . The ruin of tha t person and family would havebeen the consequence of my escape, unless there had beensome previous assurance of indemni fi ca tion.



w ere forced to strip ourselves to go over i t .” W e passed over a

prodigious w ide deep sw ammbeing forced to strip stark naked (inJanuary ) and much ado to save ourselves from drow n ing in th isFa t igue

”—“One of our compan ions ti red, not being able to travel

any farther, so w e w ent forw ard, leaving the poor dej ected travelerw ith Tears in h is Eyes to return to Charles - Tow n over so much hadw ay

”—“ Set out early, breaking t he ice w e met w i tha l in the StonyRuns, w hi ch w ere many”—“

Only parched corn to subsi st on for onehundred mi les.”

After leaving the French settlements, Law son’s route, as tracedby Ethnologi st James Mooney, w as up the ea stern side of the Sant ee, Wa teree, and Cataw ba rivers . Then t he travelers struck a trading path leading by or near t he present tow ns of Charlotte, Sa l isbury,Greensboro, H i llsboro, Fa lls of Nense, Goldsboro, and Greenvi lle.Fina l ly the footsore adventurers, a fter a trip of about seven w eeks,reached the “

Pamt icough R iver in North Carolina , w here be ing w ellreceived by the inh abitants and pleased w i th the goodness of the count ry

” they a l l “resolved to continue .

”

Of the early l i fe of the young Engl i shman, w ho w as accorded a

gracious w elcome by the Carol in ians, w e know nex t to noth ing. Fromhis aflix ing the w ord gentleman to his name on the t itle - page of h ishistory w e in fer tha t he w as of gentle bi rth . From the follow ingfacts w e conclude that he w as an educa ted man : first, from h is his

toric style ; second, from h is promotion to the office of surveyor-

gen

era l, an offi ce a t that t ime of importance and of d ign ity ; th ird, froma remark in his preface ; namely, that “most of the travellers w hogo to th is va st continent are persons of the meaner sort and genera llyof a very slender educa tion and (hence ) are incapable of giv ing any

rea sonable account of i t .” Th i s remark, of course, impl ies tha t h isqua lifica tions w ere di fferent .Of t he people w ho rece ived Law son into their homes w e of course

get our best accoun t from h is pages. He says : “The Planters arekind and hospi table to a l l tha t come to v is it them ; there be ing veryfew house - keepers but w ha t live nobly, and give aw ay more provi s ionsto Coa sters and Guests w ho come to them than they ex pend amongtheir ow n fam i l ies.” Some of the men w ere “ very industrious,” buthe adds, I dare hardly give ’em t he character in Genera l. The ea syw ay of l iving in tha t Plenti ful Country makes a grea t many Plantersvery negl igent.” The w omen w ere more laborious than the men and

Law son evidently thought them rather model home - makers. Thei rlooks, too, ma tched their cul inary accompl i shments, for he comments

“They are often very fa ir and genera lly a s Well - Featuredas you sha ll find anyw here, and have very brisk cha rm ing eyes.

Chi ldren of both sex es w ere“very doci le” and “ learned anyth ing

JOHN LAWSON 3099

w ith ease and method. They w ere careful ly reared and the admon i

t ions of parents made grea t impression on their chi ldren .

Law son w as soon busied in the l i fe of the colony. First as deputyand then as surveyor- genera l the activi ty of h is compass and cha inbrought on h is head the w ra th of the Indians, for their feeble intellects could not di sassocia te the surveyor from the loss of the ir land.

From Pollock’s Letter Book (‘

Colon ia l Records,’ I , 723-

725 ) w e

should in fer tha t Law son w as a di l igent and z ea lous officer.

During the Cary - Glover epi sode Law son’s posi tion “ craved w ary

w a lking.

” Pollock w as anx ious for Law son as an offi cer and as a

man of influence to recogn i z e the Cary government (‘

Colon ia l Records,’ I , 726) but w h i le Law son “both on the Lords Proprietors

’ac

count and on h is ow n” favored “

putting the government on a prOper

foundation” he seems to have rema ined a loof from the quarrel. I t

appears from Pollock’s letter to Law son (

‘

Colon ia l Records,’ 1 , 727)that t he surveyor w as on friendly terms w i th Porter and Mosel ey,but there is no record of his being identified w ith ei ther faction.

In 1 705 Law son joined Joel Martin in applying for and receivingarticles of incorporation for the tow n of Ba th, the oldest town in

North Carol ina , and for some years the center of i t s socia l l i fe.

When the un fortuna te De Gra ffenried w as preparing to settlehis colony of Sw iss and Pa la t ines in Carolina , Law son, w ho w as

then on a v isi t to London, w as appointed a director of t he company.He and some of t he other directors appeared in person before theRoya l Comm i ttee and w ere “ confirmed in the ir authority.” Law sonseems to have returned in 1 7 1 6 w i th the first colony, and loca tedthe new comers on a tongue of land betw een the New s (Neuse ) andTrent rivers, ca lled Cha t t aw ka , w here a fterw ard w as founded the

sma ll ci ty of New Bern. De Gra ffenried compla ins that Law son set tledthe colony on h is persona l lands and a t the “hottest and most unhea lthy place.” Moreover, he adds : “What furthermore w as verydishonest in the Surveyor is the fact tha t w e had pa id h im a veryheavy price for that piece of tongue of land, not know ing that hehad no ti tle to i t and that the place w as sti ll inhabited by Indians.He sold i t to us as free of a l l incumbrance and attested tha t therew ere no I ndians on i t .” How ever, as D e Gra ffenried w rote h is nar

ra t ive to clea r his ow n skirts, w e must t ake his statement subj ect onlyto further proof.As surveyor- genera l Law son w as in 1 709 appointed a j oint com

m issioner w ith Edw ard Moseley to act for North Carolina in settl ingt he di sputed boundary l ine betw een North Carol ina and Virgin ia.

How ever, a t the time of the meeting of the commissioners Law sonw as engaged in settl ing the De Gra tfenried colon ist s. He, therefore,appointed h is deputy, Colonel Wi ll iam Maul e, to serve in his place.


Ow ing to disputes betw een the commi ssioners from the tw o Statesnoth ing w as accompl ished, and the l ine rema ined a source of troubleunti l 1 728.

In the fa ll o f 1 7 1 1 , just before the unex pected and terrible upris ing of the Indians, Law son invi ted De Gra ffenried to accompanyh im on a trip up the Neuse R iver. The surveyor desired to determine t he nav igab i lity of the river and a lso to fi nd a route for a

better h ighw ay to Virgin ia. De Gra ffenried a t first demurred, buton Law son’s laughing a t h is fear of I ndians, agreed to make thej ourney. The tw o, w ith their negro a ttendants, w ere captured by .

the Indians and hurried to Ca t echna , the home - tow n of King Hen

cock. The Ind ians w ere jub i lant over the ir important capture. The“Assembly of t he Grea t,” how ever, first acqui tted t he tw o prisoners,but a fter the coming of some other “

w ar men ,

”and a fter a quarrel

betw een Law son and one of the chiefs, both Law son and D e Gra ffenried w ere sen tenced to dea th . D e Gra ffenried induced the savagesto spare h is l i fe, but L aw son w a s ex ecuted. The manner of h is dea this uncerta in. Whether, as one report w ent, he w as hanged, or w heth

er, as another says, h is throa t w as cut w ith h is ow n ra z or

, or w hether,as Chri stopher Ga le w rote, “

the savages stuck h im full of finesma ll Spl inters of torchw ood, l ike hog

’s bri stles,and so set them grad

ua l ly on fi re,”w e sha l l never know ; for, as De Gra ffenried w ri tes,

“The I ndians kept tha t ex ecut ion very secret.”Law son’s h i story w a s first publ ished in London in 1 709. I t is

not improbable tha t the Lords Proprietors of Carol ina a ided in i t s

publ ica tion ,for a t that t ime they voted “Tw enty pounds to Mr. Law

son for Maps of North Carol ina and South Ca rol ina .

”(‘

Colon ia lRecords,’ I , Other edition s, includ ing a t lea st tw o Germaned itions , follow ed in 1 7 1 1 , 1 7 1 2 ,

1 7 1 4, 1 7 1 8, and 1 722 . The Sta t e ofNorth Carol ina ordered a reprint in 1 860

, and in 1 903 the Charlott eObserver publ ished an edi t ion under the edi toria l superv is ion ofColonel F. A. Olds. Cop ies of the earl ier ed it ions a re now rare .D r. S . B . Weeks notes tha t about 1 820 a copy of the ed i tion of 1 7 1 8

w as b id in by the Sta te L ibra ry for s ix ty dolla rs, and tha t a t the

Brinley sa le in 1 880 a“ splendid copy

” of the 1 709 ed ition broughtt w o hundred and fi fty dollars.Law son divided h is h istory into three parts : Journa l of a thou

sand m i les of travel” ; “A descript ion of North Ca rol ina ,

”and “An

account of t he Ind ians of North Carol ina .

” S ince the book p icturesl i fe in North Ca rol ina as an intell igent and appa rently honest outs ider saw i t

,i t is of course inva luable a s a contemporary document.

The reader can but regret tha t much of the Space given to an in

a ccura te na tura l h i story ha s not preserved for us a fuller accountof the socia l, industria l, pol it ica l, and economic l i fe of the people.



Father orMother. Their Colour is of a Tawny, which wouldnot be so dark, did they not dawb themselves with Bea r’s Oiland a Colour like burnt Cork. This is begun in their Infancyand is continued for a long time, wh ich fills the Pores, and

enables them better to endure the Ex tremity of the Wea ther.They are never ba ld on the ir Heads, a lthough never so old,which I believe proceeds from the ir Heads being a lways uncovered

, and the Greasing their Ha ir (so often as they do)with Bear’s Fa t , w hich is a great Nourisher of the Ha ir, andcauses it to grow very fast. Amongst the Bear’s Oil, (whenthey intend to be fi ne ) they mix a certa in red powder tha tcomes from a Sca rlet Root, which they get in the hilly country,near the foot of the grea t ridge of Mounta ins, and it is no

where else to be found . They have this Sca rlet Root in greatesteem, and Sell it for a grea t Price, one to another. The

reason of i t s Va lue is, because they not only go a long w ay forit,but are in grea t danger of the S innagars or Iroquois, w ho

are morta l Enemies to a l l our Indians, and very Often takethem Captives, to kill them before they return from their Voyage. The Tuskeruros and other Indians have often broughtthis seed from the Mounta ins, but it would never grow in our

Land . With this and Bear’s Grease they anoint their Headsand Temples, which is esteemed as ornamenta l , as sw eet Powder to our Ha ir. Besides this Root has t he V irtue of KillingL ice and suffers none to abide or breed in thei r Heads. For

want of this Root they sometimes use Pecoon - Root,w hich is

of a Crimson Colour, but it is apt to dye the Ha ir of an uglyHue.

Their Eyes are connnon ly full and manly, and their Ga tesedate and ma jest ic. They never wa lk backwa rd and forw a rdas w e do, nor contempla te on t he Affa irs of Loss and Ga in ;the affa irs which da ily perplex us. They are dextrous and

steady both as to thei r Hands and Feet, to Admira tion . Theywill wa lk over deep Brooks, and Creeks on the sma llest Poles,and that without any Fear or Concern . Nay an Indian willwa lk on the ridge of a Barn or House and look down the

Gable - end and spit upon the Ground , as unconcerned as i f hewere wa lking on Terra Fi rma . In Runn ing, Leaping or any

such other exercise, their legs seldom miscarry and give thema fall ; and as for letting anyt hing fa ll out of their hands, I

JOHN LAWSON

never yet knew one Example . They are 110 Inventors of anyArts or Trades worthy of mention ; the reason of which Itake to be tha t they are not possessed with that Care and

Thought ful lness how to provide for the Necessaries of L i fe asthe Europeans are ; yet they w i ll lea rn anything very soon . Ihave know n an Indian stock Guns better than most of ourJoiners, a lthough he never saw one stocked before, and besidesh is Working- Tool w as only a sorry kn i fe. I have a lso knownsevera l of them that were slaves to the English , lea rn Handicra ft Trades very handily and speedily. I never saw a Dwa rfamong them nor one that w as Hump - backed . Their teeth are

yellow with Smoking Tobacco, w hich both Men and Womenare much addicted to. They tell us, that they had Tobaccoamongst them , before the European made any discovery on

tha t Continent . It differs in t he L ea f from the sw eet - scented,and Oroonoko, w hich are t he Plants w e ra ise and cultivate inAmerica . Theirs differs likew ise much in t he Smell, whengreen

,from our Tobacco be fore cured . They do not use the

same w ay to cure it as w e do ; and therefore t he D iff erencemust be very considerable in Tast e ; for a l l Men (that knowTobacco ) must a llow, that it is the Ordering thereof whichgives a Hogoo to that Weed, rather than any natura l relish itpossesses w hen green . Although they are great Smokers, yetthey are never seen to take it in Snuff or chew it.They have no ha irs on their faces (except some few , ) and

those but little . They are continua lly plucking it away fromtheir Faces, by the Roots. Although w e reckon these a

very smooth People, and free from Ha ir ; yet I once saw a

middle - aged Man ,tha t w as ha iry a l l down h is back, the Ha i rs

being above an inch long. As there are found very few or

scarce any , De formed or Cripples, amongst them, so neitherdid I ever see but one Blind Man , and then they would giveme no account how h is Blindness came . They had a Use forhim

,which w as to lead him with a Girl, Woman , or Boy, by

a string ; so they put w hat burden they pleased upon h is backand made him very serviceable upon a l l such occasions. No

people have better Eyes, or see better in the Night or Day ,than the Indians. Some a llege , that the smoke of the PitchPine, which they chiefly burn , doth both preserve and strengthen the Eyes, as perhaps i t may do, because that Smoke never


offends the Eyes, tho’

you hold your Face over a Grea t Fi rethereof. This is occasioned by the vola tile Pa rt of the Turpentine w hich rises w ith t he Smoke , and is of a friendly, ba lsamick Na ture ; for the Ashes of the Pine Tree afford no fi x

’d

sa lt in them . They let their Na ils grow very long, which, theyreckon, is the Use na ils are design

’d for, and laugh a t the

Europeans for paring theirs, w hich they say , disa rms them of

that w hich Nature design’d for them .

They are not of so robust and strong bodies, as to li ft greatBurdens and endure L abour and Slavish work, as the Europeans are, yet some tha t are Slaves prove very good and laborious ; but of themselves, they never work as t he English do,

taking ca re for no further than w hat is absolutely necessaryto support li fe. In Travelling and Hunting they are very inde fatigable ; because that ca rries a Pleasure a long with the

Profit . I have known some of them very strong ; and as forRunn ing and Leaping they are ex traordinary Fellow s

, and wil ldance for severa l Nights together w ith the grea test Brisknessimaginable

,the ir Wind never fa i ling them .

Thei r Dances are of D ifferent Natures and for every sortof Dance they have a tune w hich is a llotted for tha t Dance ;as, i f it be a VVar- Dance they w ill have a W ar- L ike Tune ,where in they express with a l l the passion and vehemence imaginab le w hat they intend to do w ith their Enemies ; howthey will kill, roast, sca lp, bea t and make Captive, such and

such numbers of them, and how many they have dest roy’d be

fore. Al l these Songs are made New for every Feast, nor isone and the same song sung a t t w o severa l Festiva ls. Someone of the Nation (w hich have t he best Gi ft of expressingtheir Design ) is appointed by the King, and W ar- Capta ins, tomake these Songs.

Others are made for Feasts of another Nature ; as, whensevera l Tow ns, of different Na tions have made Peace w ith oneanother ; then the Song suits both Na t ions and rela tes, howthe Bad Spirit makes them go to W ar, and Destroy one ah

other ; but it sha ll never be so aga in , but that their Sons and

Daughters sha ll marry together, and the t w o Nations love oneanother and become as one People .

They have a third sort of Feasts and Dances, which are

always when the Ha rvest of corn is ended, and in t he Spring.



that Men are able to endure. I have seen thirty Odd togethera - dancing until every one dropp

’d dow n w ith Sw eat

, as i fWater had been poured down their Backs. They use thoseha rd Labours to make them able to endure Fatigue, and improve their Wind, which indeed is very long and durable, itbeing a hard ma tter, in any exercise to d ispossess them of it .At these Feasts they meet from a l l the Towns w ithin Fi fty

or Six ty Miles around, where they buy and sell severa l Commod i t ies, as w e do a t Fa irs and Markets. Besides, they gamevery much, and Often strip themselves of a l l they would havein the World, and what is more , I have know n severa l of themsell themselves away, so that they have rema ined the W in

ner’s Servan ts, till their Relations or themselves could ra i set he money to redeem them ; and when this happens t he Loseris never dejected or melancholy a t the loss, but laughs and

seems no less contented than i f he had w on. They never differat Gaming, nor d id I ever see a D ispute about the Lega li tythereof , so much as rise amongst them .

The chie fest Game is a sort of Arithmetic, w hich is managed by a Parcel of sma ll split Reeds, t he th ickness of a sma llBent ; these are made very n icely

,so tha t they part and are

tractable in the ir Hands. They are fi fty- one in number , the i r

length about seven inches ; when they play they throw pa rt ofthem to their Antagonist ; the art is to d iscover , upon sight,how many you have, and what you throw to him that playsw ith you. Some are so expert w ith the i r numbers that theywill tell t en times together w ha t they t hrew out Of their Hands.

Although the w hole Play is ca rried on w ith the quickest MO

tion i t ’s possible to use , yet some are so expert a t th is game as

to w in grea t Ind ian Esta tes by th is Play. A good set of thesereeds, fit to play w itha l , are va lued a nd sold for a dressedDoe Skin .

They have severa l other Plays and Games, as with the

Kernels or Stones of Persimmons, w hich are in effect t he sameas our D ice, because Winn ing or Losing depend on w hich sideappears uppermost and how they happen to fa ll together .Another game 1 5 managed w ith a Batoon and a Bal l , and

resembles our Trap - ba ll ; besides severa l Na t ions have severa lGames and Pastimes which are not used by others.

These Savages live in Wigw ams, or Cabins built of Bark,

JOHN LAWSON 3107

which are made round like an Oven to prevent any danger byhard Ga les of Wind. They make the Fire in the middle of

the House, and have a Hole a t the top of the Roof, right abovethe Fire, to let out the smoke. These Dwellings are as Hot asStoves, where the Indians sleep and Sweat a l l n ight. The

Floors thereof are never paved nor swept, so that they havea lways loose ea rth on them. They are often troubled with amult itude of Fleas, especia lly nea r the Places where they dressthei r Deer - skins, because that Ha ir harbours them, yet I havenever felt any ill, unsavory Smell in their Cabins, whereas,should w e live in ourHouses as they do, w e should be poisonedwith our ow n Nastiness ; which confirms these Indians to be,as they rea lly are, some of the sweetest People in the world.

The Ba rk they make thei r Cabins witha l is genera llyCypress, or red or white Cedar, and somet imes when they area great w ay from any of these Woods, they make use of PineBa rk, which is t he Worser sort . In building these fabricksthey get very long Poles of Pine, Ceda r, Hickory or any otherWood that will bend ; these are the thickness of the sma ll of aMan’

s Leg, a t t he thickest end of which they genera lly stripOff the bark, and warm them well in t he fi re, which makesthem tough and fit to bend ; a fterwards they stick the thickestends of them in the ground, above tw o yards asunder, in a

circula r form, the distance they design the Cabin to be (whichis not a lways round but sometimes ova l ) then they bend thetops and bring them together and bind their ends with barkof trees, that is proper for tha t use, as E lm is, or somet imes theMoss that grows on the Trees, and is a yard or two long andnever Rots ; then they brace them with other poles, so that theyare very wa rm and tight , and will keep fi rm aga inst a l l theWea thers tha t blow . They have other sorts of Cabins withoutWindows

,which are for thei r Granaries, Skins, and Merchan

di z es and others tha t are covered overhead and the rest leftopen for a ir. These have Reed Hurdles like Tables, to l ie andsi t on i n summer, and serve for pleasant Banqueting Housesin the Hot Season of the Yea r. The Cabins they dw ell in haveBenches a l l around, except where the door stands. On thesel ay Beast - Skins and Mats made of Rushes, whereon they sleepand 1011. In one of these severa l Families commonl y live,though a l l related to one another.


As to t he Indian’

s Food , it is of severa l sorts, w hich are

as follow s :Ven ison , and Faw ns in the Bag. cut out of t he Doe’s Bel ly ;

Fish of a l l sorts, the Lamprey - Eel excepted , and t he Sturgeonour Sa lt - \Va ter Ind ians w i l l not touch ; Bea r and Beaver ;Panther ; Pole - Ca t ; \Vi ld—Ca t ; Possum ; Ra ccoon ; Ha res and

Squirrels roasted w ith the ir Guts in ; Snakes, a l l Indians w i llnot ea t them ,

tho’

some do ; a l l w i ld Fruits t ha t are Pa latable ,some of w hich they dry and keep aga inst \Vinter, as a l l sort sof Fruits, and Peaches w h ich they dry , and make Quiddonies,and Cakes, that are pleasa nt , and a little ta rt ish ; young Wasps

w hen they are w hite in the Combs be fore they can fly. this isesteemed a da inty ; Al l Sorts of Tort oise and Tereb ins ; ShellFish and Stingray or Sea te , dryed ; Gourds ; Melons ; Cucumbers ; Squa shes ; Pulse of a l l sorts ; Rockahomi ne Mea l, w hichis the ir Ma i z , pa rched and pounded into pow der ; Fow l of a l lsort s, that are ea table ; Ground - Nuts orWild Potatoes ; Acornsand Acorn Oil ; VVi ld - Bulls ; Bee f ; Mutton , Pork , et c. , fromthe English ; Indian Corn , or Ma i z

,made into severa l sort s of

Bread ; Ea rs of Corn roa sted in the Summer or preservedaga inst theThe V ict ual s is Common , throughout the w hole Kindred

Rela tions, and often to the w hole Tow n ; especia lly , w hen theyare in Hunt ing- Qua rters

,then they a l l fare a like

,w h ichsoever

of them ki l ls t he Game . They a re very kind and cha ri t ableto one another, but more especia lly to those of the ir ow n Na

tion ; for i f any one of them has suff ered any Loss by Fire orother wise , they order the gri eved persons to make a Feast ,and invite them a l l thereto, w h ich , on the day appointed , t heycome to, a nd a ft er every Man

’

s mess of V ictua ls is dea lt toh im , one of thei r Speakers or grave old Men

,makes an H aran

gue , and acqua ints t he Company That that Man’

s House hasbeen burnt , w here in a l l h is Goods w ere destroyed ; That heand h is Family very na rrow ly escaped ; That he is every Man

’

s

friend in that Company ; and , That it is a l l t he ir Duties tohelp him, as he would do to any of them, had like Misfortunebe fa llen them . After this Ora tion is over

, every Man ,ac

cording to h is qua lity , throws him dow n upon t he Groundsome Present , which is common ly Beads, Ronoak ,

Peak,Skins

or Furs, and w hich very often amounts to treble the amount


31 10 SOUTHERN LITERATURE

abmfi the Fumra l go mto Towm and the first young Men

they Meet w i tha l that have Blankets orMa tch Coa ts on, w hom

t hey think fi t for theirTm they st rip them from tbei r Backs,

w ho snfi er them to do so w i thout any Res ist ance. I n thes e

they w rap t he dss d Bodies , and convey them w i th t w o or

three Ma ts w hich the Indians make of Rushes or Cane ; and

l ast of a l l they have a long w eb of w oven Reeds, or hol lowCanes , w hich is the Comuof the Indians, and is brought aroundsevera l t imes and is t ied fast a t both ends, w h ich indeed looksvery decent and w el l. Then the Corps is brought out of theHouse int o the Orcha rd of Peach - Trees

,w here anot her Hur

dle is made to rece ive it, about w hich comes a l l the Rela t ionsand Na tions tha t the dead person bel onged to, bes ides severa l

from ot her Na tions in All iance w i th t hem ; a l l w h ich si t dow n

on the Ground, upon Ma ts spread there for tha t purpose ;w here t he Doct or or Conjurer appea rs, and a fter some time,makes a sort of O-

yes , a t which al l are very silent . Then hebegins to give an account w ho the dead person w as , and how

stout a man he approved himse l f ; how many Enemies and Capt ives he had ki lled and taken ; how strong. ta l l , and n imble hew as ; tha t he w as a grea t Hunter, a lover of his Coun try, and

possessed of a grea t many beaut i ful w ives and ch i ldren , es

teemed t he grea test of Blessings among these Savages, inw hich they have a true Notion. Thus this Ora tor runs on,

highly ext olling the dead Man , for h is Va lour, Conduct ,Strength, R iches, and Good Humour ; and enumera ting hisGuns, Slaves and almost everythi ng he w as possess

’d of, w hen

living. After which he addresses himsel f to the People of

tha t Tow n or Na tion, and bids them Supply the Dead Man’

s

Place , by follow ing his steps, who he assures them, is goneinto the Country of Souls (w hich they think lies a grea t w ayOff, in thisWorld , which the Sun visits, in h is ordinary Course )and tha t he will have the enjoyment of handsome young \Vomen , great Store of Deer to hunt , never Meet with Hunger,Cold or Fatigue, but every thing to answ er his Expecta tion and

Desire. This is the Hea ven they propose to themselves ; buton the contra ry, for those Indians that are la z y , th ievishamongst themselves, bad Hunters and no W arriours, nor ofmuch use to the Nat ion, to such they a llot in the nex t World,

JOHN LAWSON 31 1 1

Hunger, Cold, Troubles, Ugly old Women for their Companions, with snakes and al l sorts of Nasty V ictuals to feedon . Thus is marked out their Heaven and Hell . After a l lthis Harangue, he diverts the People with some of theirTraditions, as when there w as a violent hot Summer or a veryhard Winter ; when any notable D istempers raged amongstthem ; when they w ere a t W a r w ith such and such Nations ;how victorious they were, and what were the Names of theirW ar- Capta ins. To prove the times more exactly, he produces the Records of the Country, which are a Pa rcel ofReeds of different lengths, with severa l distinct marks knownto none but themselves ; but which they seem to guess, veryexactly, a t Accidents that happened many yea rs ago ; nay tw oor three Ages or more . The reason I have to believe whatthey tell me, on this Account, is because I have been a t the

meetings of severa l Indian Na tions ; and they agree in relatingthe same Circumstances, as to Time, very exactly ; as, forexample they say , there w as so ha rd a winter in Carolina 1 05years ago, that the grea t Sound w as froz en over and the Wildgeese came into the Woods to ea t Acorns and they were so

tame (I suppose through Want ) that they were killed abundautly in t he Woods by knocking them on the Head withSticks.

But , to return to the dead Man . When this Long Tale isended by him tha t spoke fi rst ; perhaps a second begins anotherlong Story ; so a third and fourt h i f there be so many Doctors present ; which a l l tell one and t he same thing. At lastthe Corps is brought away from the Hurdies to the Grave, byfour young Men , attended by the Relations, the King, Old Menand a l l the Nation . When they come to the Sepulchre, whichis about six foot deep, and eight foot long, having a t eachend, (tha t is, a t the Head and Foot ) a L ight -Wood or PitchPine Fork driven close down the sides of t he Grave, fi rmlyinto the Ground ; (these two forks are to conta in a R idgePole, as you shall understand presently ) be fore they lay theCorps into t he Grave they cover the bottom tw o or three timesover w ith Ba rk of Trees

,then they let dow n the Corps with

tw o Belts, that the Indians carry thei r Burdens witha l ) veryleisurely upon t he sa id Barks ; then they l ay over a Pole of theSameWood, in the two Forks, and having a great many Pieces


Oi Pitch - Pine logs, about tw o foot and a ha l f long, they stickthem in t he sides of the Grave down each end , and near thetop thereof, w here t he other Ends l ie on t he R idge - Pole, SO tha tthey are declin ing like t he roof of a House . These being verythick - placed they cover them (many times double ) w ith Bark ;then they throw the Ea rth thereon , tha t came out of the Grave,and bea t it dow n very fi rm,

by this means the Dead Body liesin a vault , nothing touching him ; so tha t w hen I saw this w ayof buria l, I w as mightily pleased w ith it , esteeming it verypleasant and decent , as having seen a great many Christiansburied without the tenth pa rt of tha t Ceremony and Decency.

Now when the Flesh is rotten and Moul der’d from the Bones

they take up the Carcass and clean t he Bones, and join themtogether ; a fter wa rds, they dress them up in pure white dressedDeer - Skins, and lay them amongst thei r Grandees and Kings inthe Quiogoz on , w hich is the ir roya l Tomb or Buria l - Place oftheir Kings and W ar- Capta ins. This is a very large Magnifi

cent Cabin, (according to their Building ) w h ich is ra ised a t thePublick Charge of t he Nation

,and ma inta ined in a grea t dea l

of form and Nea tness. About seven foot high is a Floor orLoft made , on w hich l ie a l l their Princes and grea t Men ,

tha thave died for severa l hundred yea rs, a l l at t ired in t he dress Ihavebefore told you of . NO person is to have h is bones l ie hereand be thus dressed

, unless he gives a round sum of the irMoney to the Rulers, for Admittance . I f they remove neverso far, to live in a Foreign Country, they never fa i l to takea l l these dead Bones w ith them, tho

’the Ted iousness of their

short da ily Ma rches keeps them never so long on the ir Journey . They reverence and adore this Quiogoz on ,

w ith a l l t he

Venera tion and Respect tha t is possible for such a People todischa rge ,

and had rather lose a l l than have any V iolenceor Injury offor’d thereto . These Savages d i ffer some sma llmatter in their Buria l s ; some burying right upw ards, and otherw ise , as you are acqua inted w itha l from my Journa l fromSouth to Nort h Carolina . Yet they a l l agree in thei r Mouming, which is to appea r every n ight a t the Sepulchre, and how !and w eep in a very disma l manner, having their Faces daw b

’d

over w ith L ight -Wood Soot , (which is the same as LampBlack ) and Bear’s Oi l. This renders them as black as it ispossible to make themselves, so tha t theirs very much resem



they know him to be a good Hunter, and tha t he can ra isethe Sum,

agreed for, in some few Moons, or any little time,they agree, she sha ll go a long w ith him as betroth

’d . Yet

t he Women are quite contrary, and those Indian Girls tha thave convers

’d with the English and other Europeans never

ca re for the conversa tion of their Countrymen a fterwa rds.

The Indian men are not so vigorous and impa tient in theirLove as w e are . They never marry so nea r as a first Cousinand a lthough there is nothing more coveted amongst them thanto marry a Woman of their ow n Na tion, yet when the Na

t ion consists of a very few People (as nowadays it oftenhappens, so that they are a l l of them related to one another )then they look out for Husbands and Wives amongst strangers. An Indian is a llow ed to ma rry t w o Sisters, or h is

Brother’s Wife . The Marriages of these Indians are no

fart her binding than t he Man and Woman agree together .E ither of them has L iberty to leave the other upon any i rivolous excuse they can make, yet whoever takes the Woman tha tw as another Man

’s before, and bought by him, as they a l l

are, must certa inly pay to her former Husband, wha tsoeverhe gave for her. Nay , i f she be a Widow and her Husbanddied in debt,w hoever takes her to Wi fe, pays a l l herHusband

’

s

Obligations, tho’never so many ; yet the Woman is not re

quired to pay anything (unless she is w illing ) that w as ow ingfrom her Husband, so long as She keeps single. You may see

Men selling their Wives as Men do horses in a Fa ir,a Man

being a l low’d not only to change as often as he pleases, but

likewise to have a s Many Wives a s he is able to Ma inta in .

I have very often seen very Old Indian Men (that have beenGrandees in their Ow n Nation ) have three or four very likelyyoung Indian Wives, which I have much w ondered a t . Theyare never to boast of their Intrigues w ith the Women . Thisproceeds not on the score of Reputation ,

for there is no suchthing known amongst them ; yet they reta in and possess a

Modesty which requires those passions never to be D ivulged .

The Indians say , that the Woman is a weak creature,and easily drawn aw ay by the Man

’s Persuasions ; for w hich

reason they lay no blame upon her, but t he Man (w ho oughtto be the master of h is Passion ) for persuading her to it.They are of a very ha le Constitution, their brea ths are as

JOHN LAWSON 31 1 5

sweet as the a ir they breathe in, yet thei r love is never of thatForce and Continuance that any of them ever runs Mad or

makes away with themselves on that score . They never lovebeyond retrieving their fi rst indifferences and when slightedare as ready to untie the knot a t one end as you are a t the

other. Yet I knew an European man w ho a fter living withone of these Ind ian Women married a Christian, and whenhe went to visit his Indian Mistress she made answ er that shethen had forgot she ever knew him, so fell a crying and wentout of the Cabin (away from him ) in great disorder.



house, w hich w as surrounded by a“ botan ica l garden ,

” famousthroughout t he South for the ex t en t , vari ety, and bea uty of i t sproducts and i t s intell igent arrangement for purposes of study. The

w oods and sw amps abounded in game ; the streams in fi sh ; and the

m i ld Southern climate a fforded an indulgence throughout the yearin the hea lth ful plantat ion Sports of rid ing and sw imming, hunt ingand fish ing. Am id these surroundings, idea l for development of thesound mind in sound body, an accompl i shed and a ffectiona te fatherw as chief tutor to t he young LeCont es and director and compan ionin their sports.

Of systematic, elementary schooling Joseph had but l ittle. He

a ttended, occa siona lly and irregularly, the “old- held schools” of

the neighborhood. Among his teachers—and the only one, i t seems,w ho impressed h im seriously—w as Alex ander H . Stephens, the famous Georgia statesman . Prepared for college by his father, heentered t he Un iversi ty of Georgia in January, 1 838, and w as gradua ted, A.B In August, 1 841 . After an ex tended and interesting vi s it,w i th other members of the fami ly, to Wa sh ington ,

New York, and

Boston , the tw o follow ing years w ere spen t ma inly on t he plan tation, w i th a few months given to the nomina l study of medicineunder Dr. Charles West of Macon , and an elder brother, Dr. JohnLeCont e, in Savannah . In t he autumn of 1 843 he entered the Col

lege of_

Phy sicians and Surgeons of New York and w as graduatedM.D .,

in May , 1 845. The summer vacation of 1 844 had been spen tin a long and interesting journey w i th a cousin through t he regi onof the Grea t Lakes, return ing by the then th inly - settled States oft he Northw est, an ex perience w hich had a marked influence uponh is future career.

Return ing to t he le i surely l i fe of the planta tion ,on January 1 4,

1 846, he married M iss Carol ine E l i z abeth Ni sbet,of Macon

,to

w h ich ci ty he removed tw o years la ter, in Janua ry , 1 848, and beganthe practice of medic ine. The l i fe of t he genera l pract i tioner w as

ex tremely d istasteful to him ; the ca ll of the schola r and invest igatorw a s in the blood ; so, in August, 1 850, he abandoned t he professionand entered Aga ssi z ’s labora tory a t Harvard a s a Spec ia l studentand w as graduated B S. from the Sheffi eld Scient ific School inJune, 1 85 1 . H is a ssoc iat ion w i th Aga ssi z w a s ex tremely int imate,and in January, 1 85 1 , he a ccompan ied him on a famous z oologi ca lex pedi tion to the reefs of Florida . Return ing to Georgia ,

in No

vember, 1 85 1 , he w as appointed professor of natura l science in

Oglethorpe Un iversi ty a t Midw ay, Georgia . In D ecember,1 852,

h is Alma Mater, the Un iversi ty of Georgia , ca lled h im to the cha irof geology and na tura l h istory, w h ich he held unt i l D ecember, 1 856,

resign ing to accept the professorsh ip of chemistry and geology in

JOSEPH LE CONTE 31 19

t he South Carol ina College a t Columbia , South Carol ina , w hich posthe held unt i l the di sbandment of t he college by stress of w ar in

June,1 862. During the w ar he engaged in techn ica l chemica l w ork

for the Con federacy in connection w ith the manu facture of medica land ordnance suppl ies. At t he close of the w a r t he college w as re

organ i z ed as the Un iversi ty of South Carol ina , and LeCon t e resumedhis cha ir unti l the a troc i ties of t he Recon struction made furtherconnection w i t h the inst itut ion intolerable . In August, 1 869, therefore, he accepted the professorsh ip of geology and natura l hi story int he new ly - est abl ished Un iversi ty of Ca l i forn ia , w hich post he heldunti l h is dea th .

I n appearance LeCon t e w a s of medium height, rather slender, butsturdy and w ell - favored. D evoted to out - door sports, he ex celledpart icularly in sw imming. On a v is it to Ta llulah Fa lls in NorthGeorgia , in 1 845 , he made a da i ly practice of ba th ing in the dan

gerons Haw thorn Pool , shunned by the ordinary ex pert, and, a t theage of seventy- seven he w as st i ll da ring and proficient in the art .

He w as kindly and am iable in disposi tion ; keen ly apprecia t ive ofhumor ; sensi tive in matters of honor and a ffection . Hi s domest icrelat ions w ere of t he happ iest character throughout his li fe and hisfriends w ere many and S incere. H e w a s a lw ays most popular amongt he studen t s and t he best beloved professor in the severa l facultiesof w h ich he formed a pa rt . H i s l i fe ran smooth ly from start tofin ish , unbroken by ca l am i ty save the inevi table deaths of near and

dea r rela t ives and t he horrors—o i w hich he w itnessed a full sharevis ited upon h i s peop l e by t he grea t w a r.

Wi th the comb ined inheri tance of Puri t an and Huguenot, inma t t ers of re l igion he w a s, in ea rly l i fe , a s he himsel f ex presses i t ,“orthodox of t he orthodox .

” “La ter, as though t germ ina ted and

grew apace , I adopt ed a l ibera l interpret ation of orthodoxy ; thengradua l ly I became unorthodox ; then in deep sympathy w ith the

most l ibera l movement of Chri st ian thought ; and fina lly to someex ten t a leader in that movement.” H is father

, a lthough “ in t he t ru

est sense rel igious, w a s no church member,but a ttended regularly,

w i th h i s W i fe , t he Puri tan - Congrega t iona l ist Church a t M i dw ay, ofw h ich she w a s a devout member. Whi l e a student a t Athens, L eConte , a t t he age of seventeen , un ited h imsel f w ith the PresbyterianChurch—the “

nearest in fa i th” in the commun ity to tha t a ttendedby h i s parents. He w a s never active, how ever, in church w ork,a lthough deeply re l igious ; and throughout h is l i fe he cared “ l ittlefor denomina t iona l di ff erences.

” A rare comb ina t ion of breadthand tolerance of Spirit w i th strong rel igi ous conviction i s man i festedin the tone of a l l h is ph i losoph ica l w ri tings and adds greatly to

their pow er and charm .

The circmna am s of IE Cont e’s l i fe w ere such tha t hc g

-

ave an

m a l nmnhcr of yw s t o prepa ra t ion for hi s ul t ima t e serious work.

In a rly manhood his a reer and choice of a profession w ere long

undecided. fi c efi het i c and art ist ic irnpulses inhesi t ed from hi s

mot her ind ined him st rongty to some form of l i t era ry pursui t as a

fie ld for ex pression of the ideal ist ic t hought to w hich he fel t himsel fmoved. For a bri e f momen t he con t empla t ed en t ering t he m ini st ry

as aflording opport un i t y to becom e a grea t prea cher. L i t era ture asa pursui t w as then pract ica l l y unknow n in t he Sout h ; pub l i ca t ion ofl i t erary effort s w as ra re, and faci l i t ies for pub l ica t ion w ere even

more scan t than now . Had he l ived in New England hc might have

become an imagina t ive w ri t er of grm meri t or perhaps a fa ir poct .

On the ot her hand, he shared his fa ther’s en thusia sm for scien t ific

resea rch, to w hich , indeed, the imagina t i ve faculty”

5 essent ia l , and

this w as st imula t ed by the educa t ion of hi s boyhood a t hi s fa t her’s

hands m thc gres g wfld ph nmfi om w i t h i t s const an t d ose commun ion

w i th Na ture, it s bot a n ica l ga rden , and i t s chemica l labora tory . Ten

ta t ive ly he adopt ed the profession of medicine, w i th no tast e or

love for the actua l pract i ce of the hea l i ng art ; but as furn ish ing a t

the time the fi t t es t opport un i ty for sc ien ti fic invest iga t ion. He fi rst

rea l ly found h imsel f w hen, a t tw en ty - seven,

he came under the

influen ce of Agassi z and caught insp ira t ion and di rect ion from in t i

ma te associ a t ion w i th tha t w onderful gen ius and tea cher. Thencefort h h i s l in e of intellectua l endea vor w as cl ea rl y ma rked out , and w as

follow ed bri ll iantly and w i thout devia t ion to t he end.

Geology—in many respects the grea t est of t he n a tura l sc iences,making app l i ca t ion ,

on a cosm i c sca l e,of a l l the others, and em

bra cing t he st udy and interpret a tion of t he grand ph enomen a con

cerned w i th the forma tion and developmen t of t he ea rt h—a ffordedan appropri ate and congen ia l field for t he ex erc ise of hi s pecul ia rand grea t intellect ua l pow ers. To th is bra nch of sci en ce

,therefore,

stimul a ted by the advice and example of Agassi z , be devoted himse l f w ith a rdor and enthus iasm as st uden t

,invest iga tor

, and tea cher.

H is crea tive w ork began w h i le he w as st i ll connect ed w i th t he col

l eges of the South . I t rea ched ful l frui t ion ,how ever

,onl y a fter

h is transfer to Ca l i forn ia ,w here a lesser burden of rout ine duti es

gave grea ter lei sure for investigative w ork , a nd th e magn ificent mounta ins and va lleys of the geologica lly- young Pa cific Coa st a ffordedrare Opportun i ty for fi rst - hand observation of t he phenomena in

w h ich he w as particula rly interested. I t w a s during h is res iden cein Ca li forn ia tha t h is ch ie f scien t ific w ork w as done and h i s mostimporta nt publi ca t ion s w ere made. A typ ica l product of t he “

antebel lum” South , Leconte rang true to his birth and breed ing. Th inking h igh thoughts, musing upon things beaut i ful , frequently reaching,



papers on techn ica l sc ientific subj ects may be read w i th del ight byun techni ca l readers ; h is grea t tex t - book on the ‘

E lements of Geology’

is virtua lly sel f- teaching by reason of the charm and simpl ici ty ofi t s style ; and his adm irable li ttle book on ‘

Evolut ion in i t s Rela tionto Chri stian Thought’ ha s probably been more w idely read and has

received a larger mea sure of genera l apprecia tion than any othersingle contribution to the profoundly interesting subj ect w ith w h ichi t dea ls.During his l i fe Leconte w as the rec ip ient, a t home and abroad,

of many honors and scholarly apprecia tions of h i s w ork. He becamea member of the Georgia Medica l Society in 1 849 ; member of theAmerican Assoc ia tion for the Advancement of Science in 1 850,

Counci llor and Genera l Secretary in 1 86 1 and President in 1 89 1 ;

first v ice- president of t he American Comm i ttee and presid ing ofli cerof t he Interna tiona l Geologica l Congress in 1 89 1 ; member of t heCa l i forn ia Academy of Science in 1 870; of the Na tiona l Academyof Science in 1 875 ; of the Ameri can Geologica l Society in 1 882, and

i ts presiden t in 1 895 ; of the Nationa l Educat iona l Associat ion in

1 892 ; of t he American In sti tute of M in ing Engineers in 1 894; w as

given the honorary degree of Doctor of Law s by Princeton Un iversi ty on the occa sion of t he sesquicen tenn ia l celebra t ion in 1 896 ;

and w a s a member of numerous m inor sc ient ific,l iterary, and ph i l

OSOph ica l soc iet ies.He d ied in a manner and am id surroundings befitt ing h is l i fe and

w ork, a t an advanced age ; in full possess ion of h is faculties ; sudden ly and w ithout pa in ; surrounded by a ffectiona te members of h isfami ly and devot ed , adm iring friends ; in the Open , among the mounta ins he dea rly loved a nd int ima tely knew ; on a camp ing trip in t he

grand Va lley of the Yosemi te.

JOSEPH LE CONTE 3123

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Rel igion and Science. New York, D . Appleton and Company , 1 873.

E lements of Geology. New York, D . Appleton and Company, 1 878.

S ight . I nterna t iona l Scientific Seri es, Vol. ! ! ! I . New York,D . Appleton and Company, 1 880.

The Compara tive Physiology and Morphology of Anima ls. New

York,D . Appleton and Company, 1 882.

Compend of Geology. New York,D . Appleton and Company,

1 884.

Evolut ion and I t s Rela t ion to Rel igious Thought. New York, D .

Appleton and Company, 1 888.

Autobiography. (Ed ited by W . D . Armes, published New

York , D . Appleton and Company, 1 900.

REFERENCES

Joseph LeCont e. By Josiah Royce ; I nternat ional Monthly, Vol .IV : 1 901 : pp' 324

-

334°

Joseph LeCon t e. Popul ar Sci ence Monthly , Vol . ! I I , January,1 878, pp . 358

-

361 .

Joseph LeCon te in the S ierra s. S i erra Club Bul l et in, Ca l i fornia,January, 1 902.

Proceedings of the American Associat ion for the Advancementof Science, 1 902.

(Ex cellent ma teria l for ga in ing a correct estimate of the man,prepared by h im shortly before his dea th and published a few months

therea fter. )


PERSONAL ITY OF DEITY

1 7 1 5 1 ! youmm m once for a IL t ha t I st a nd on t hc

same pla t form as everv one of y ou : t ha t I d o not appea r

before y ou as one ha ving aut hori t y to t ea ch you upon t hese

high subject s : I do 1 101: come ha ving a cormm'

ss ion in mv

hand , cxcept such a commission as evcry on e holds to ex ert

a l l his influence on the side of t rut h and vi rt nc. I simply

present here t he thought s of on e w ho has t hought in t ense ly ,

i f not profoundly , and fe l t st i l l more int ense ly , upon subject s

w hich must st ir t he heart of every one in th is aud icnce—subject s of such vit a l irnport a nce tha t . in compari son, a l l others

sink into insignifi cance ; t he t hought s of one w ho ha s a l l his

l i fe sought w i th passiona t e ardor t he trut h revea led in t he

one book but w ho cl ings no les s passiona t el v to the hopes

reve led in t he ot her.

Perhaps w mc of you t h ink tha t t his very posi t ion put s me

in a condi t ion of prejud ice ; tha t a cond i t ion of in t el l ect ua l

ind ifl'

erencv is absolut e ly necessa ry for sound and fa i r judgmen t . I know ma ny t h ink so . On t he con t ra ry . I assert t ha tint ense interest and love of t he trut hs reves led in both booksis t he on ly cond i t ion of a ra t iona l view of the i r mut ua l

Not many Sundays ago I heard an eloquen t mini st er,stand ing in th is p la ce ,

sa y ,

“

I t is impossib le to know a man

unl ess you firs t love h im .

” There is a profound trut h in t h isrema rk. You ca nnot be a w ise phi lant hropist unl ess you deeply sympa t h iz e w i t h human na ture , un less you love your fellowmen . You ca nnot understand t he charact er of chi ldren un less

you deeply sympa thi z e w i th t hem and love t hem. You cannotunderst and your friend unless you first love h im . I nd i fferencyshuts t he door Of t he mind as w e l l as Of the hea rt . Ha tenot onl y shuts but double - locks i t , and t hrow s aw av t he key .

Onl y Love ca n Open it . Now . w ha t is t rue of persons is no

les s true of subjects. I t is impossible to judge fa irlv of anytheory, of any phi losophy, of any subject . unless you are

deeply interested, unless you deep ly sympa thiz e w i th and lovei ts spi rit. This is true even in the low er depa rt ments of



muses cannot preclude the idea of the existence of God . I f,in tracing the cha in of causes upw a rd ,

w e stop a t any cause,or force , or principle , tha t force or principle becomes for usGod , since it is the effi cient agent controlling the phenomenaof t he un iverse . Thus, Theism is necessa ry, intuit ive , and

there fore , un iversa l . W e cannot get rid of i t i f w e w ould .

Push it out , as ma ny do, a t t he front - door,and it comes in

aga in , perhaps unrecogn iz ed, a t the back - door. Turn it outin i t s nobl er forms as revea led in Scripture , and it comes inaga in in i t s ignobl e forms, it may be as magnet ism

, e lect ricity,or gravity, or some other supposed effi cient agent controllingNa ture . In some form , noble or ignoble , it w i ll become a

guest in the human heart . I there fore repeat, Theism nei ther

requires nor admi ts of proof.

But in these la tter times there is a strong tendency forTheism to take the form of Pan theism

,and thereby religious

belie f is robbed of al l i t s power over the human hea rt . Itbecomes necessary, there fore , for me to a ttempt to show

,not

t he existence, indeed , but the personal i ty of D ei ty . I f I werelecturing to an un lettered audience , this w ould not be meces

sary, for the mind natura lly conce ives of God a s a person .

But , among a cert a in class of cultivated minds, and especia llyamong scientific men ,

there is a grow ing sentiment, sometimes

Open ly expressed, sometimes only vaguely felt, tha t w ha t w eca ll God is on ly a un iversa l , a l l pervading principle an ima tingNature—a genera l principle of evolution—an unconscious,impersona l li fe - force under w hich the w hole cosmos slow lydevelops. Now ,

this form of Theism may possibly sa tisfy thedemands of a purely specula tive philosophy, but cannot sa tisfythe cravings of the human hea rt . For practica l religion—fora religion which connects itsel f w ith mora l ity, and influenceshuman li fe, which sha ll make us better men and w omen ,

w h ichsha ll be the agent of human progress—w e must have morethan this, w e must have a persona l De ity ; not indeed a materia lform

, but a persona l Wi ll and Intelligence, a Fa ther of ourspirits, one to whom w e come in our ignorance and da rknessfor guidance and light, in our w eakness for help , in our hun

gerings a fter spiritua l food for da ily bread ; into w hose imageby da ily commun ion w e may be more and more t ransfigured ;


by stead fast upwa rd ga z ing into whose face w e may be drawnhigher and higher .

Now , it is precisely such a persona l Being, which as you a l l

know is revea led in Scripture, underlying in fact every line ofi t s language ; it is such a persona l De ity which , as I am con

vinced, is revea led in Nature a lso, and underlies a l l her

language.

The a rgument for the persona lity of Deity is derived fromt he evidences of inte l ligent contrivance and design in Na ture ;or the adjustment of parts for a defin ite and an intelligible pur

pose . I t is usua l ly ca l led “

the argumen t from des ign . The

force of this a rgument is felt a t once intuitively by a l l minds,and i t s effect is irresist ible and overw helming to every pla in ,

honest mind , unplagued by metaphysica l subtleties. Even inminds thus troubled the effect is sti l l intuitive and irresistiblein a l l cases ex cept in a w ork of Na ture, that is, of God .

But some w ill say ,“

The very object of science is to destroypopula r intuitions.

” There cannot be a greater mistake .

There are tw o grea t functions of science . One is the discoveryof new truth ; the other and far the more characteristic is togive clea r a nd perfect form to old truth—to give ra tiona l formto the vague intuit ions of t he popula r mind—to w innow out

t he cha fi’ from the gra in

,sepa ra te the dross from t he gold .

Th is i t does by means of i t s admirable methods. As is the eye

among t he sense - organs, so is science among t he means of acquiring know ledge : as t he vague perceptions of t he externa lw orld received through t he other senses are changed into clea r,dist inct, defin ite know ledge only through the delica tely- ad

justed mechan ism of the eye ; even so the vague intuitions ofthe popula r mind a nd even of philosophic gen ius take clea r,distinct, and permanent form only through t he ex quisitelydelica te methods and processes of science . This

,I repea t, is

t he more cha racteristic function of science . The discovery ofnew truth does not seem to come by any characteristic method.

When a grea t truth is discovered by scientific gen ius, it seemst o come suddenly, l ike a revelation . It seems to be by thesame fa culty of intuition which is common to a l l minds, butw hich in i t s highest form s w e ca ll genius . But the characterist ic w ork of science is the subsequent verifica t ion of tha t truth,and t he putting it into clea r, exact, permanen t shape . I n other


words, intui t ion quarries the blocks—huge, shapeless massesunfi t for bui lding-

purposes ; science hews and shapes them in

proper forms and fi ts them into t he ed ifice . Th is is the cha ract erist ic work of science—thi s construct ive mason - work

,by

which knowledge is gradual ly built up into a beauti ful ed ifice .

Now , in these la tter times, there has been so much of thisstone - cutting, the clink of the scientific hammer and chise l sodea fens our cars, tha t the funct ion of the qua rrier is in danger of being underrated , i f not entirely overlooked . Fewapprecia te how many of the grea test blocks of truth have beenqua rried by popula r and philosophic intuitions. Let us, then ,

lea rn to respect popula r intuitions. The intui tions of the

human hea rt and the human mind, when strong and un iversa l,are a lways true, a lthough the form of truth may be vagueand crude. The funct ion of science is not to destroy these,but to shape them.

Thus much I have thought it necessa ry to say concerningthe na ture of the a rgument from design, because it has beenthe fashion to speak of it with contempt as

“

the ca rpenter’stheory of the un iverse .

”

But you will ask me : Do you then, reject the doctrineof evolution ? Do you accept the crea tion of species d irect lyand without seconda ry agencies and processes ?” I answer,No ! Science knows nothing of phenomena w hich do not takeplace by seconda ry causes and processes. She does not denysuch occurrence , for true Science is not dogmatic ; and she

knows full w ell tha t,t racing up phenomena from cause to

cause , w e must reach somewhere the most direct agency of aFirst Cause . But a phenomenon re ferred to direct agency(if t he Fi rst Cause is immediately put beyond the doma in of

Science . The doma in of Science is seconda ry causes and processes—is a l l tha t lies betw een the phenomenon , the object ofsense, and the First Cause , t he object of fa i th . Science passesfrom sensible phenomena to immediate causes, from these toother higher causes ; and thus by a continuous cha in she riseshigher and sti ll higher until she approaches t he Grea t FirstCause , until she stands be fore the very throne of God Himsel f.But there she doffs her robes, she lays down her sceptre, andveils her face.

It is evident , there fore, tha t, how ever species w ere intro



a l l the rea l evidence which w e have is in favor Of paroxysma lchange. It may be meagre, but it is a l l w e have.

Most natura lists seem to think tha t sudden change is inconsistent with the evolution. I t may , indeed, be inconsistentwith any theory now be fore the scientific world ; but this On lyshows that w e have not yet a true theory Of evolution . But

others say the constancy Of Na ture’s laws necessitates change

by insensible grada tions.

“Na ture,

” they say ,

“never goes by

leaps.

”On the contrary, a lthough laws and forces are con

stant, phenomena almost a lways change by leaps. Meteorologica l phenomena , such as storms and lightn ing—geologica lphenomena , such as ea rthquakes and volcanoes, are paroxysma l . Even embryonic development , the very type Of a l l evolut ion, is paroxysma l a lw ays in some Of i t s steps and in manyanima l s in severa l Of i ts steps. I s it , then ,

inconceivable orcontrary to the known ana logies of Nature that the evolutionOf the organi c kingdom should a lso have i t s periods Of par

oxysma l change ? On the contra ry , it seems to me far moreprobable that in the evolution Of the organ ic kingdom, as in

the evolution Of the earth, in t he evolution Of society, in the

evolution Of the egg,in fact, as in a l l evolution, there have

been periods Of compa ra tive quiet and periods of rapid change .

How rapid these changes have been can only be determined byfurther Observations. Al l I w ish to insist on is, tha t t he mindshould not be closed aga inst sudden or paroxysma l change byany idea tha t such change is inconsistent w ith evolution byseconda ry causes.

Let me insist, how ever, that it can make no difference , SOfar as t he argument for design is concerned , w hether there beevolution or not ; or whether in case Of evolution ,

the evolu

t ionary change be paroxysma l or un i form . The ex istence Of

contrivance is one thing,‘

the mode by w h ich t he contrivance iseffected is quite another thing. The sudden appea rance Of

species, with a l l their admirable contrivances complete, m ightbe a relie f to our fi n ite minds—might strengt hen t he w avering fa ith Of some, but cannot affect the rea l argument in any

w ay .

Thus, then, you will Observe that skepticism takes i t s fi rstrefuge in the past eternity Of ex isting contrivances, or else, inthe case Of organ isms, in the etern ity Of the species. D riven


from this by geology, it takes i t s next re fuge in the eternityOf the organ ic kingdom. D riven aga in from this, it takes i t snex t re fuge in t he eternity Of the cosmos. Driven from thisa lso, as it has been ,

it takes i t s last refuge beyond the doma inOf Science, in the eternity Of matter and materia l forces. Thusin every case it seeks refuge in our ignorance—i t fl ies everbefore the light Of Science, and finds sa fety and rest onlybeyond her doma in.

W HAT IS EVOLUTION ?From ‘ Evolut ion and I ts R e la t ion t o R e l igious Thought .’ Copyright , D . Appleton

and Company, and used here by permiss ion of t he publishers.

W E have shown continuously progressive change in or

gan ie forms during the whole geologic history Of the ea rth,similar in a genera l w ay to tha t Observed in embryonic development . W e wish now to Show that t he l aw s of cha nge aresimilar in the two cases. What , then, are the law s Of succession Of forms in geologic times ? I have been accustomed toformula te them thus : The l aw Of differentiation ; The law Ofprogress Of the w hole ; The l aw Of cycl ica l movement . W e

w i ll take up these and expla in them successively, and then ,

a fterw a rds, Show tha t they are a lso the law s Of embryon ic developmen t , and therefore the law s Of evolution .

It is a most sign ificant fact, to w hich attent ion w as fi rststrongly d irected by Louis Agassi z , tha t the ea rliest repre

sen t a t ives Of any group, whether class, order, or family, werenot w hat w e would now ca ll typica l representa tives Of tha tgroup ; but , on the contrary, they were, in a wonderful degree

,connecting links ; that is, tha t a long with their distinctive

classic, ordina l , or family characters they possessed a lso othercha racters w hich connected them closely with other classes,orders, or families, now widely d istinct , without connectinglinks or intermed iate forms. For ex ample : The ea rliest vert ebra t es w ere fishes, but not typica l fishes. On the contra ry,they w ere fishes SO closely connected by many characters withamphibian reptiles, tha t w e ha rdly know whether to ca l l someOf them rept i l ian fishes, or fi sh - l ike reptiles. From these, asfrom a common vertebrate stem,

were a fterwards separa ted ,by slow changes from generation to generation, in tw o dirce

t ions, the typiea l fi shes and the true rept i les . So, al so, to take

anot her examp le , the fi rst birds w ere far difi erent from typ ical

bi rds as w e now know them. They w ere, on the con tra ry , b irds

so rept il ian in charact er, tha t there is st i l l some doubt w het her

bi rd cha ract ers or rept ilian cha ract ers predomina t e in the

mi x ture, and there fore w hether they ought to be ca l l ed repti lian birds or bi rd - l ike reptiles From this common st em, the

more special iz ed modern repti les branched OE in one di rect ionand typ ica l birds in another, and intermedia te forms bea n ie

ex t inct ; unti l now ,the tw o classes st and widel y apa rt , wi thout

apparent genet i c connect ion . This subject w i l l be more fullyt reated herea fter, and other examples given . These tw o w i llbe sufi cient now to mak e the idea cl ear.

Such ea rly forms combin ing t he cha racters Of two or moregroups, now w idely sepa ra ted, w ere ca lled by Agassiz con

nect iny types, combin ing types, sy nthe t ic types, and somet imesprophe t ic types ; by Dana, comprehens ive types ; and by Huxley , general i z ed types. They are most usua lly know n now as

genera l i z ed types, and the ir w idely- sepa ra ted outcomes spe

cial iz ed types. Thus , in genera l, w e may say tha t the w idelysepara ted groups Of the present day , w hen traced ba ck ingeologi ca l times, approach one another more and more untilthey fina lly uni te to form common stems, and these in theirturn un ite to form a cormnon trunk . From such a commontrunk, by successive branch ing and rebranch ing, ea ch branchtaking a different direct ion ,

and a l l grow ing w ider and widerapa rt (different ia tion ) , have been gradua lly gene ra ted a l l

the diversified forms w h ich w e see a t t he present day . The lastlea fy ram ifi ca t ions—flow er- bea ring and fruit - bea ring—O f thistree Of l i fe ,

a re t he fauna and flora Of t he presen t epoch . The

law might be ca lled a l aw Of ramifica tion , Of specia l iz a t ion ofthe pa rts, a nd d iversifica t ion Of the w hole .

Many imagine tha t progress is the one l aw Of evolution infact , tha t evolution and progress are coex t ensive and convertible terms. They imagine tha t in evolut ion t he movementmust be upw a rd and onward in a l l pa rts ; tha t degenera tion isthe opposite Of evolution . This is far from t he truth . Thereis doubtless, in evolution , progress to higher and higher planes ;but not a long every line , nor in every pa rt ; for this would becontra ry to the law Of differentiat ion . It is onl y progress Of


h istory af t l le m ls. They are t hu '

e i ore non'

, not on lv un

impossib ih y Of the deriva t ion Of life from non - l i fe sour,is

bopela sness of a w orm ever becrmring a vert ebra t e m,

aga imt t be derivat ive origin of vert ebra t es . Doubtargumentb s rf l i fe w ere now en inguished from the face oi the a rt h .

i t could not aga in be rd sind led by any m tura l proca s km w n

to us ; but the sarne is probablv true of every st ep of cvolut ion .

i t could not be re - formed from any ot ber class now l ivi ng. I t

w ould be necss sary to go back to the t ime and condit ions of

the separa t ion of this class from the rept i l ian st em . There

fore , t he falseness Of the doctrine Of abiogenes is , so fa r from

being any a rgument aga inst evolution ,is exa ct ly w ha t a true

concept ion Of evolut ion and h ow ledge Of i t s law s w ould lea dus to expect .

The movemen t Of evolution has ever been onw a rd and up

w a rd ,it is true , but not a t uni form ra te in t he w hole , and es

pecia l ly in t he pa rts . On the cont rary, it has pla i n ly moved insuccessive cycles . The t ide Of evolution rose ever h igher andhigher, without ebb , but it nevert he less came in successivew aves, each higher than t he preceding and overborne by t hesucceeding. These successive cycles are t he dynasties or reignsOf Agassi z , and Of Dana ; the re ign Of mollusks, the reign Of

fishes, Of rept iles, Of mamma ls, and fina l ly Of man . Duringthe ea rly Pa le oz oic times (Cambrian and Silurian ) there w ereno vert ebra tes. But never in the history Of t he ea rth w eremollusks Of grea ter si z e , number and va riety Of form thant hen. They w ere truly the rulers Of these ea rly seas . In the

absence Of competition Of sti ll higher an ima ls, they had thingsal l thei r ow n w ay ,

and therefore grew into a great monopolyOf power. I n the la ter Pa laeo z oic (Devon ian ) fishes w ere int roduced. They increased rapidly in Si z e , number, and va riety ;and being Of higher organ i z ation they quickly usurped the

M pire Of the seas, w hile the mollusca dw indled in Si z e and


importance, and sought sa fety in a less conspicuous position .

In the Mesoz oic t imes, repti les, introduced a little earlierfind ing congen ia l conditions and an unoccupied place above ,rapidly increased in number, variety, and S i z e , until sea and

land seem to have sw a rmed w ith them. Never before or sincehave reptiles ex isted in such numbers, in such va riety or form ,

or assumed such huge proportions ; nor have they ever Sincebeen SO highly organ i z ed as then . They quickly became rulersin every rea lm Of Nature—rulers Of the sea , sw imming rep

tiles ; rulers Of the land, w a lking rept i les ; and rulers Of the a ir,flying reptiles. I n t he unequa l contest , fishes there fore soughtsa fety in subord ina tion . Meanw hile mamma ls were introduced in t he Mesoz oic, but sma ll in Si z e

,low in type (marsu

p ia ls ) , and by no means able to contest the empire w ith thegrea t repti les. But in the Cenoz oic (Tertiary ) , t he conditionsappa rently becoming favorable for their development , theyrapidly increased in number, si z e , va riety, and grade Of organ i z a t ion , and quickly overpow ered the grea t reptiles, w hicha lmost immed ia tely sank into the subord inate position in w hichw e now fi nd them, and thus found compara tive sa fety. Fina lly ,in the Quaterna ry, appea red man , contending doubtful ly for

a w hile w ith t he grea t mamma ls but soon (in Psychoz oic ) acquiring mastery through superior intell igence . The huge and

dangerous mamma ls w ere destroyed and are sti l l be ing destroyed ; the useful an ima ls and plants w ere preserved and

made subservient to h is wants ; and a l l th ings 011 t he face Of

t he ea rth are be ing readjusted to the requiremen t s Of h is rule .

I n a l l ca ses it w ill be Observed that the rulers w ere such because, by reason O i strength

,organi z a t ion

, and intelligence,they w ere fittest to rule . There is a lw ays room a t the top .

TO i l lustra t e aga in by a grow ing tree : This successive cul

mina tion Of higher and higher classes may be compared to theflow ering and fruit ing Of successively h igher and higherbranches. Each uppermost branch , under the genial hea t andlight Of direct sunsh ine , received in abundance by reason Of

position ,grew rapidly, flow ered , and fruited ; but quickly

dw indled w hen overshadow ed by st i l l h igher branches, which,in the ir turn ,

monopoli z ed for a time the precious sunshine.

But Observe, furt hermore : w hen each ruling class declinedin importance, it d id not perish, but continued in a subordi

na te posi t ion . Thus t he w hd e organ ic k ingdom became not

mfly higl ier and higber in i ts higbs t form lnn al so more and

more comp lex in it s st ructure and in the in t era ct ion of i t s cor

In reproduct ion the new individual appears : As a germcel l—a single microscopic l iving cel l . Then. by grow t h and

mul t ipl ica tion Of cel l s, i t becomes an egg. Th is may be cha ract eri z ed as an aggrega t e Of sim il a r ce l ls . and t here fore is not

yet d ifferent ia t ed in to t issues and orga ns . I n other w ords, i tis not yet visibly orga ni z ed ; for Orga ni z a t ion ma y be defi nedas the posses sion Of di fferent pa rt s , performing d i fferent funct ions, and a l l coOpera t ing for one given end , vi z . , the l i fe and

w el l - being Of t he Organism. Then commences the real ly charact erist ic process of development , vi z . , difi erent ia t ion or diversifi ca t ion . The cells are a t fi rst a l l a like in form and funct ion,

for a l l are globula r in form, and each performs a l l t he funct ions necessar

v for l i fe . From this common point now com

mences development in difi erent d irect ions , w hich may be compa red to a branch ing and rebranching

,w i t h more and more

complex result s, accord ing as t he animal is h igher in t he scal e

Of organ iz a t ion and advances t ow a rd a st a te Of ma turi t y .

First , t he cell - aggrega t e (egg ) sepa ra t es in t o three d ist inct

layers Of cell s, ca l led ect O- blast , endo- blast , and meso- blast .These by furt her di fferen t ia t ion form t he t hree fundamen t a lgroups of orga ns and funct ions, vi z .

,t he nervous svstem,

the

nutri t ive sys t em,and t he blood svs tem : the first pres id ing Over

t he ex change Of force or influence , by act ion and rea ct ion w i t ht he envi ronment , and betw een the d ifi eren t part s Of t he or

ganism ; t he second presid ing over t he excha nge of ma t terw i th t he environment , by absorp t ion and el imina t ion ; the third

presi d ing Over ex changes Of ma t ter bet w een d ifferent pa rt sOf the organism . The first system Of funct ions and orga nsmay be compa red to a sy stem Of telegraphy , foreign and do

mest ic ; the second to fore ign commerce ; t he t h ird to an in t erna l ca rry ing - trade . Fol l ow ing out any One Of these groupsin higher an ima ls, sav the nervous sy st em ,

i t quickly di fferent ia tes aga in in t o t w o sub - svst ems

,vi z . , cerebro- sp ina l and

ganglionic, ea ch having i t s ow n dist inct ive funct ions w h ich w ecannot stop to expla in . Then t he cerebro- spinal aga in d ifferent ia tes into volun tary and reflex systems. Al l Of these have



change by gradua l transmuta t ion of one species into anotherthrough successive generations and by na tural process, theother as change by subst i tut ion of one species for another bydirect supernatura l crea t ive act . Both admit the gradual developmen t of t he organic kingdom as a whole through stagessimilar to those of embryonic development ; but the one re

gards the w hole process as natura l, and therefore strictly comparable to embryonic development, the other as requiring frequent specia l interference of crea tive energy, and thereforecomparable rather to the development of a building under thehand - and according to the preconceived plan of an architecta plan in this case conceived in etern ity and carried out consisten t ly through infin ite time. It is seen tha t the essentia lpoint of difference is this : The one asserts the variabilityof species (i f conditions favor, and time enough is given )without limit ; the other asserts the permanency of specificforms, or their variability only within narrow limits. The

one assert s the origin of species by“

descen t w i th modificat ions,

”the other, the origin of species by “

specia l act of cre

a t ion . The one assert s the l aw of continuity (tha t is, thateach stage is the natura l outcome of the immediately preceding stage ) in this, as in every other department of Nature ;t he other asserts tha t the law of continuity (tha t is, of causeand effect ) does not hold in this department ; that the linksof the cha in of changes are discontinuous, t he connection between them being intellectua l, not physica l .


ORIG IN AND STRUCTURE OF MOUNTAINSFrom ‘ Elemen te of Geology.’ Copyright , D . Appleton and Company , and need here

by permission of the publishers.

MOUNTAINS are the glory of our earth, the culminat ingpoints of scen ic beauty and grandeur. They are so becausethey are a lso the culminating points, the theatres of the greatest activity , oi a l l geologica l agencies. The study of mounta in - cha ins, therefore, must ever be of absorbing interest, notonly to the pa inter and the poet, but al so to the geologist . A

thorough knowledge of their structure, origin , and mode of

formation,w ould undoubtedly furn ish a key to the solution

of many problems which now puz z le us ; but their structure isas yet little know n

,and the ir origin still less so.

The genera l cause of mounta in - cha ins (as in fact of al ligneous phenomena ) is the “ reaction of the earth’s hot int erior upon i t s cooler crust . Mounta in - cha ins seem to be

produced by the secula r cooling, and therefore contract ion, ofthe ea rth, grea t er in the in terior tha n the ex terior; in conse

quence of which , the face of the old earth is become wrinkled.

Or, to express it a little more fully, by the grea ter interior contraction , the exterior crust is subjected to enormous latera lpressure, which crushes it together, and swells it upwa rd a longcerta in lines, the stra ta , by the pressure , be ing a t the sametime thrown into more or less complex foldings. These linesof upsw elled and folded strata are mounta in - cha ins. The firstgrand forms thus produced are a fterwa rds chiseled down and

sculptured to thei r present diversified condition by means ofaqueous agency. Thus much it w as necessary to say of the

origin of cha ins, in order to make the account of their strueture intelligible. The theory of their origin will be given morefully herea fter .A mounta in - cha in consists of a great plateau or bulge of

the ea rth’s surface, often hundreds of miles wide and thousands of miles long. This pla teau or bulge, which is the cha in,is usua lly more or less distinctly divided by grea t longitudina lva lleys into pa ra llel ranges ; and these ranges are aga in oftensepa rated into ridges by sma ller longitudina l va lleys ; and theseridges, aga in serrated a long their crests, or divided into peaks,by t ransverse va lley s.

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

Thus the Appa lachian cha in is a grea t pla teau or bulge,1 00mi les wide, miles long, and feet high . It isd ivided into three ranges, the Blue, t he Alleghany , and the

Cumberland, sepa rated by grea t va lleys, such as t he Va lley ofV irgin ia and t he Va lley of East Tennessee . These rangesare aga in in some places quite d istinctly divided into para llelridges, which are serrated into peaks. The American Cor

di l leras consist of an enormous bulge runn ing cont inuouslythrough the whole of South and North America , nea rly t enthousand miles long, and from five hundred to one thousandmiles wide. This great cha in is divided into pa ra llel ranges.

In North America , there are a t least three of these veryconspicuous, the Rocky Mounta in , t he Sierra Nevada , and theCoast Range, sepa ra ted by the Great Sa lt L ake Va lley and theVa lley of Cen tra l Ca l i fornia , respectively. Each of theseranges is sepa ra ted more or less perfectly into ridges and peaks,as a lready expla ined. These terms

,cha in

,range, and ridge,

are often used interchangeably. I have a ttempted to give a

more definite mean ing.

Cha ins are evidently a lways produced solely by the bulgingof the crust by la tera l pressure . Ranges are usua lly producedin a similar manner, that is, by greater crushing together, andtherefore greater bulging a long para llel lines, w ithin the widerbulge ; this is the mode of format ion of the ranges of theNorth American Cordi l leras. In such cases, they have beenprobably consecut ively formed . The ranges of the Appa l achian cha in , how ever, have been formed a lmost entirely byerosion . The ridges and intervening longitudina l valleys are

usual ly , and the peaks, w ith t heir intervening transverse va l

leys, are a lw ays, produced by erosion .

Such is t he simplest idea l of the form of a mounta incha in ; but in most cases this idea l is far from rea li z ed . In

many cases the cha in is a grea t plateau, composed of an inext ricab le tangle of ridges and va lleys of erosion ,

runn ing in a l l

directions. In a l l cases, how ever, the erosion has been immense . Mounta in - cha ins are t he great thea tres of erosion

,

as they are of igneous action . As a genera l fact,a l l that w e

see, when w e stand on a mounta in - cha in—e very peak and va lley , every ridge and canon ,

a l l tha t constitutes scenery—iswholly due to erosion .



those now in operation may be ca rried too far. For instance,there is a strong tendency among the best geologists to mak evolcanoes or crater- eruptions (the only form of eruption now

going on ) the type of a l l igneous eruptions in a l l times. But

the a ttentive study of the mode of occurrence of eruptive rockswill show tha t by far t he la rger quantity have come throughfissures, as expla ined above, and not through cra ters.

No one who has examined the eruptive rocks of the Pacifi c coast ca n for a moment believe tha t these immense floodsof la va have issued from cra ters. The lava -flood of the Sierraand Cascade ranges is certa in ly among the most ext raordina ryin the world . Commencing in Middle Ca li forn ia as separa te llava - streams (which, however, cannot be traced in any caseto cra ters) , in Northern Ca li forn ia it becomes an a lmostcontinuous sheet

,severa l hundred feet thick ; and in Oregon

an overwhelm ingflood, a t least two thousand feet thick. In jappa rently undimini shed thickness it then stretches throughWashingt on Territory to the borders of British Columbia .

An area e ight hundred mi les long and one hundred miles wideis appa rently covered with a un iversa l lava -flood, which, in thethickest pa rt, where it is cut through by the Columbia R iver,is certa in ly not less than three thousand feet thick . Over thisenormous a rea there are sca ttered about a doz en ext inct volcanoes—mere p imples on i t s face . It is incredible that a l lthis flood should have issued from these craters . There is no

proportion between the cause and the effect . W e thereforeunhesita tingly adopt the view of R ichthofen , tha t these immense floods of lava , so often associa ted with mounta in - cha insand often forming, as in this case, the great mass of the cha initsel f, have issued, not from cra ters, but from fissures ; and

tha t volcanoes or crater- eruptions are seconda ry phenomena ,

a rising from the access of water to the hot interior portionsof grea t fi ssure - eruptions. Thus, as monticules are parasiteson volcanoes, so are volcanoes pa rasites on fi ssure - eruptions,and fi ssure - eruptions themselves parasites on an interior fluidmass. This interior fluid mass, however, accord ing to R ichthofen , is the supposed universal l iquid i n terior; while, according to our view ,

it is the sub- moun ta in reservoir, local ly

formed, as above expla ined .

By this theory it is necessa ry to suppose that there have


been , in the history of t he ea rth, periods of compara t ive quiet ,during which the forces of change were gathering strength ;and periods of revolut ionary change

—periods of gradua llyincreasing hori z onta l pressure, and periods of yielding and

consequent mounta in - formation . These la tter would a lso be

periods of grea t fi ssure - e ruptions, and would be followedduring t he period of compara tive quiet by volcanoes gradua llydecreasing in activity. The last of these grea t fi ssure—cruption periods in the Un ited States occurred in the la ter Tert iary . S ince then w e have been in a crater—eruption period ,w hich has been steadily decreasing in activity, until only geysers and hot springs rema in to tell us of the still hot interiormasses of the great fi ssure - erupted lavas. The periods of

revolution sepa ra te the great eras and ages of geologica l history, and are ma rked by unconformi ty , because the sea~marginsedimen ts

, upon which the sediments of the next period are

necessarily deposited, are crumpl ed up ; and a lso by change ofspecies, because changes of physica l geography determinechanges of climate , and there fore en forced migra tion of

species.

The theory here presented accounts for a l l t he principa lfacts associated in mounta in - cha ins. This is the t rue test ofi t s general truth . It expla ins sat isfa ctorily the followingfacts : I . The most usua l position of mounta in - cha ins on the

borders of continents. 2 . When there a re severa l ranges belonging to one system

,these have been formed successively

coast - ward . 3. Mounta in - cha ins are masses of immenselythick sediments. 4. The strata of which mounta in - cha ins arecomposed, are strongly folded, and, where the materia ls are

suitable, are affected with slaty cleavage ; both the fold and

the cleavage be ing usual ly para llel to the cha in . 5 . The stra taof mounta in - cha ins are usua lly a ffected with metamorphism,

which is great in proportion to the height of t he cha in and

the complex ity of the fold ings. 6. Grea t fi ssure - eruptions andvolcanoes are usua lly associa ted with mounta in - cha ins. 7 .

Many other minor phenomena , such as fissures, slips, and

earthquakes, it equal ly accounts for.

The Reverend 0. Fisher and Capta in Dutton have objectedto the above view , that a t t he ca lculable rate a t which the ea rthis now cooling, t he amount of contraction is wholly inadequate


to produce the supposed effect . But even i f this be true, theobject ion does not touch the fact of contraction which is cer

ta in , but on ly the cause of contraction , that is, by cooling.

Other causes of contraction are conceivable, for ex ample , lossof interior vapors and gases, according to Fisher’s theoryof volcanoes.




to, or from the standpoint of, l iterary effect . But l et us first speak a

w ord concern ing the qua l it ies of t he man .

A consp icuous characterist ic of Genera l Lee , w h ich deserves a

larger empha si s than i t has h itherto received, w as h i s remarkable gi ftin the mastery of deta i ls. Th i s qua l ity he exh ibited, of course, inplann ing h is mi l itary campa ign s. I t w as l ikew i se ex h ib ited in h i s

w ork as college president. He had that k ind of gen ius w h ich Goethedefines as “

an infin ite capa ci ty for taking pa in s. He w as in constanttouch w i th everybody, no matter how humble, and w i th everyt hing, noma tter how minute . Noth ing seemed ever to escape h is notice . H is

letters a t times a lmost startle t he reader by their deta i led statementof fact s and inc idents.A qua l i ty in the character of Genera l Lee, far more genera lly

recogn i z ed, w as h is rare persona l influence w ith men , young and fullgrow n. He understood men . He did not need to use the w h ip ofcompulsion in dea l ing w i th them. His ma sterful persona l i ty w as ofi tsel f enough to draw men to h im. H is appea l w as a lw ays addressedto t he reason and to the con science of men , never to their emotions.He had fa i th in men. I f he happened to come a cross one counterfei tdollar, he did not stra ightw ay, for tha t rea son, lose fa i th in a l l money .

He never indulged in flattery, but no one w as quicker than he in

giving to the other man w hat he justly deserved. He notably ex hibi t ed th i s virtue w hen the message announcing the morta l agony ofStonew a ll Jackson w as conveyed to h im “ Jackson has lost his leftarm,

” he ex cla imed,

“but I have lost my righ t arm.

Another characteristic of Genera l L ee w as t he grea t and overpow ering devotion to duty that sw ayed h im. Much has been sa idconcern ing h is consecration of purpose. Consecra tion ,

how ever,w as not to h im a pen a l servi tude . I t w as freedom to rea l i z e a grea tpurpose, an unselfish idea l. Much has a lso been sa id concern ing hi sconcentration of purpose. Concentrat ion , how ever, w as not , in h is

view , a mere w aste - heap for t he sacrifice of physica l , men t a l , or mora lenergy. I t w as freedom to devote h imsel f to essent ia ls, to look a t l i few i th clear and steady eyes, and to do a grea t, ma j estic w ork.Undoubtedly, t he most va lued qua l ity in the charact er of Genera l

Lee, in the popular view , w as tha t qua l ity w h ich ex pressed i t sel f int he remarkable priva te v irtues of the man . H i s l i fe taught many lessons that men need to learn . First of a l l , i t taught the lesson of simpl ici ty . He took refuge in the primary sources of l i fe. He used tosi t in h is house and “

rest h is eyes on the roll ing fields of grass andgra in ,

bounded by the ever- changing mounta ins.” He found a ton icstrengt h in campus and playground. He w ould w ander out to t he

h i ll - t0ps to enj oy the sw eet confidence of nature and i t s s i lent pea ce.He would w ri te to h is daughter : Preserve your simple tastes and

ROBERT EDWARD LEE 3147

manners. You w i ll bear '

ia m ind that i t w i ll not be becomingin a Virgin ia girl now to be fi ne and fa shionable, and that gent i li ty,as w ell as sel f- respect, requires moderat ion in dress and ga iety.

”

Genera l Lee’s l i fe further taught the futi li ty of va in regret ; thathuman v irtue i s superior to human ca lam ity.

“The mi ll w i ll nevergrind w ith the w a ter that is past.” I f h is l i fe w ere shadow ed by thememory of an ind iv idua l injury tha t could not be repa ired, his pol icyw as to name a l l mank ind as the lega tee to rece ive the benefit of theresti tution tha t must be made. I f he felt regret for any adversaryhe had sla in ,

his remedy w as to place t he entire country on h is pension l ist. He never put on exh ib ition the catacombs of h i s l i fe. He

never passed h is cup of sorrow to others. I f he had regrets and sor

row s, instead of forming a syndica te, he organ i z ed a trust, reta in ingfor h imsel f every share of the stock .

Genera l Lee’s l i fe a lso taught the va lue and the dign ity of submission to authori ty, of tolerance, and of chari ty. To the board of trustees of Wash ingt on College, on coming to Lex ingt on , he sa id : I t is

particularly incumbent upon those charged w i th the instruction of theyoung to set them an example of submi ss ion to authori ty.

”He w as

not the man to st ir the ashes of a spent quarrel . He w as t he champ ion of rea son ra ther than of pa ssion. He pleaded for si lence andpat ience” as the true antidote to “ ex citement and passion .

” He knewtha t hate could thrive only on ignorance. I f anyone a ttempted tosmirch his name , he w as b ig enough to cover the attempt w ith the

cloak of chari ty.There are many other qua l i ti es in t he character of Genera l Lee

tha t deserve a fuller sta tement . W e m ight Speak concern ing h i spromptness in a l l th ings, w i th the one ex ception , tha t he never performed an act today w h ich w ould make to- morrow ashamed ; concern ing h i s perseverance, ex cept in doing a w rong thing ; concern ingh is ca lmness, ex cept in the presence of decei t. But h istory has ex

hansted these phases of h is character. W e do w ish to refer to tw ocharacteri stics w hich he ex empl ified in a conspicuously notable w ay .

The first i s t he w onderful modesty of the man, and the second, thestrength and t he cathol ici ty of his rel igious fa ith. Notori ety and ap

p l ause w ere not only di sta steful, but even pa in ful to h im. The Na

pol eon ic cloak of egoti sm w a s never w rapped about the great figureof Genera l L ee. Nor must w e omit to say concern ing him tha t, inevery relation of l i fe, he set the ex ample of a man w ho w as devoutlyreligious. I f he w as interested in l itera ture and science, he w as a lsointerested in rel igion. I f he w as not a fra id to Open his eyes in the

presence of nature, he w as a lso not a shamed to close them in the

presence of God. He w as l ibera l and ca thol ic in his creed. He w as


devout as Stonew a ll Jackson, w i th an added note of sw eetness andl ight.”This cursory review of the character of Genera l L ee is given here

w i th no purpose of undertak ing to ex a lt the man . That w ould be ana ltogether superfluous ta sk. I t i s given solely for the reason that w e

w ould emphasi z e the fact tha t the cha racter of the man i s the bestindex to the character of h is w ri t ings.

Genera l Lee’s letters, ofli cia l papers, m i l i tary orders, and the biography of his fa ther, printed a s an introduction to t he latter’s ‘Memoirs of the W ar of constitute t he li terary ma teria l by w hich heis ch iefly know n as a w ri ter. H is reports as college pres ident, w h i leless w idely know n, a lso const i tute va luable l i terary ma teria l. He w as

not merely a grea t college president in ma tters of interna l admin istration and deta i l. He w a s a lso a grea t educa t iona l prophet. Fortyyears ago he w as recommend ing to t he trustees of Wa sh ington College pol icies of expan sion tha t have on ly in recent years been adoptedby the foremost un iversi ties of t he country. Un fortunately, no inst itut ion in the South has had the income necessa ry to adopt them.

There i s no finer defin ition of truth than tha t w hich w as acceptedby Genera l Lee : “Truth is the Shortest d i stance betw een a fact andthe ex press ion of i t .” We cite th i s defin it ion because i t furn i shes anex act and d i scrim ina ting descript ion of Genera l L ee

’s gen era l style

of ex pression . The dom inant characteri st ic of h is style i s i t s Sim

pl ici t y and i t s directness. He a lw ays sa id ex actly w ha t he mean t .Thi s qua l i ty of S impl e, direct, stra ightforw ard sta t emen t is characteri st ic of a l l h is w ri t ings, from h is ce lebra t ed offhand descri ption of“Traveller” to h is most important and d ign ified ofli cia l papers.Genera l L ee’s w ri t ings w ere characteri z ed by t he utmost modera

tion in t he use of w ords and the u tmost propriety in t he choice ofexpressions. H e rarely employed the superla tive degree of comparison . He w as scrupulously ca re ful in t he use and in t he sel ect ion of

adj ect ives a nd adverbs. The w ri t er has be fore h im an origina l document w ri t t en by an adm irer of Genera l L ee and subm i t ted to h im for

cri t icism and correct ion . Throughout the entire documen t w e fi nd

Genera l L ee el im ina t ing superfluous language, modera t ing appa rentex aggera t ions of st a t emen t , turn ing phra ses from a persona l to a gen

era l cha ract er, t empering t he form a nd style of ex pression . a nd a lw a y s

adding S impl ici ty and force to the origina l . Throug hout Genera lLee’s w ri t ings, inc lud ing h is in t ima t e l et t ers, many of them w ri ttenunder diffi cul t ies and frequent ly in ha st e

,w i th no t hough t tha t any one

of them w ould ever become publ ic property, w e fi nd t he same tempera te use of language, and t he same regard for accura te and modera t e stat ement. N0man has ever w ritten letters tha t surpass those of



the w ar, are fine Specimens of his w onderfully lucid thought and wonderful ly accura te method of expression. The follow ing passage froma letter to Genera l Pendleton, w ri tten just before the surrender, is

typica l : “ I have never believed tha t w e could, aga inst t he giganticcombina tion for our subjugation, make good, in t he long run , our inde

pendence, unless foreign pow ers, directly or indirectly, assisted us.

”

Fina lly, Genera l Lee’s w ri tings w ere marked by a h igh mora land rel igious tone, his expressions a t times passing into eth i ca l maxims. There are few nobler passages in l itera ture than severa lw h ich are incorporated in his celebrated “Chambersburg order”“The dut i es ex acted of us by civi l i z ation and Chri stian i ty are not lessobl igatory in the country of the enemy than in our ow n. W e

make w ar only upon armed men , and cannot take vengeance for thew rongs our people have suffered w i thout offending aga inst H im tow hom vengeance belongeth , w ithout w hose favor and support ourefforts must a l l prove in va in .

” There can be no finer expressionsof sent iment than these of Genera l Lee in a letter to h is son , Custis“Frankness is the ch i ld of honesty and courage. Never do a

w rong to make a friend or to keep one. Duty is the subl imestw ord in our language. Do your duty in al l things. You cannot domore ; you should never do less.

”

ROBERT EDWARD LEE 31 5 1

RESIGNATION FROM UNITED STATES ARMY

ARL INGTON,V IRGINIA

,April 20, 1 86 1 .

GENERAL—Since my interview with you, on the 1 81h in

stant , I have felt tha t I ought not longer reta in my commissionin t he a rmy. I therefore tender my resignation,

which I request you w ill recommend for acceptance. It would have beenpresented a t once but for the struggle it has cost me to sepa rate mysel f from a service to w hich I have devoted a l l the

best years of my li fe, and a l l the ability I possessed .

During the whole of tha t time—more than a qua rter ofa century—I have experienced nothing but kindness from mysuperiors, and the most cordia l friendship from my comrades.

To no one, general , have I been as much indebted as to yoursel f for uni form kindness and considera tion, and it has a lwaysbeen my a rdent desire to merit your approba tion . I Sha llcarry to the grave the most gra teful recollections of your k indconsidera tion, and your name and fame -will always be deartome .

Save in defence of my na tive Sta te, I never desire aga into draw my sword . Be pleased to accept my most earnestwishes for the continuance of your happiness and prosperity,and believe me, most truly yours, R . E . LEE .

L ieutenant -Genera l Winfield Scott,Commanding Un i ted S ta tes Army .

LETTER TO G . W . CUSTIS LEE

You must study to be frank with t he world ; frankness1 5 the child of honesty and courage . Say just what you meanto do on every occasion, and take it for granted you mean todo right . I f a friend asks a favor, you should grant it, i f itis reasonable ; i f not , tell him pla inly w hy you cannot : you willwrong him and wrong yoursel f by equivocation of any kind .

Never do a wrong thing to make a friend or keep one ; theman w ho requires you to do so,

is dearly purchased a t a sacrifi ce . Dea l kindly , but fi rmly, w ith a l l your classmates ; you willfi nd it t he policy which wears best . Above a l l , do not appea rto others wha t you are not . I f you have any fault to fi nd with


any one , tell him,not others, of what you compla in ; there is no

more dangerous experiment than tha t of undertaking to be onething before a man’

s face and another behind h is ba ck. W e

Should live, act , and say , noth ing to the injury of any one .

It is not only best as a matter of principle, but it is the pathto peace and honor.

In regard to duty, let me, in conclusion of this hasty letter,inform you tha t, nea rly a hundred years ago, there w as a dayof remarkable gloom and darkness—sti l l known as

“

the da rkday

”—a day when the light of t he sun w as Slowly extinguished ,as i f by eclipse . The Legislature of Connecticut w as in ses

sion, and, as the members saw the unexpected and unaccount

able da rkness coming on ,they shared in the genera l aw e and

terror. It w as supposed by many tha t t he last day—t he dayof judgment—had come . Some one , in t he consterna tion ofthe hour, moved an adjournment . Then there arose an oldPuritan legislator, Davenport , of Stamford, and sa id tha t , i fthe last day had come, he desired to be found a t h is placedoing his duty, and, therefore, moved that candles be broughtin

, so that the House could proceed w ith i t s duty. There w as

quietness in that man’s mind, t he quietness of heavenly w is

dom and inflex ible w i l lingness to obey present duty. Duty,then

,is t he sublimest w ord in our language . Do your duty in

a l l th ings, like the old Puritan . You cannot do more, you

should never wish to do less. Never let me and your motherwear one gray ha ir for any lack of duty on your part .

A CHRISTMAS LETT ER TO H IS W IFE

December 25 , 1 86 1 .

I CANNOT l et this day of grateful rejoicing pass w ithoutsome commun ion w ith you. I am thankful for t he manyamong the past that I have passed w ith you, and the remembrance of them fills me with pleasure . AS to our old home, i fnot destroyed it will be d iffi cult ever to be recogn i z ed . Eveni f the enemy had wished to preserve it , it would a lmost havebeen impossible . With the number of troops encamped aroundit

, the change of offi cers, the w ant of fuel , Shelter, et c., and a l l

the dire necessities of w ar, it is va in to th ink of i t s be ing in a

habitable condition . I fear, too, the books, furniture, and rel ies


nmdy prot est aga irs t this outmge rnade by the vem rable and

i l lust rious Ma ry larrders—to w hom in bet t er da y s no ci t i z en

tempt . The government of your ch ief ci ty has been usurped

by arrned st ra ngers ; y our L egisla ture has been dissolved hy the

un law ful arrest of i ts members ; freedom of the pres s and of

speech ha ve been suppressed ; w ords have been decla red oi

fences by an arbi t ra ry desi re of t he Federa l Execut ive , andci t iz ens ordered to be t ried by mi l i ta ry commission for w ha tt hey may da re to spea k .

Believing tha t the peop le of Ma ryland possessed a sp iri t toolofty to subm it to such a government, t he people of t he Sout hhave long w ished to a id you in t hrow ing 06 thi s foreign yoke,to enable you aga in to en joy the ina lienable rights of freemen,

and rest ore independence and sovere ignt y to y our Sta te.

In obedience to this w ish, our army has come among you,

and is prepa red to assist you,w i th t he pow er of i t s arms, in re

ga ining the right s of w hich you have been despoiled . This, ci t iz ens of Ma ryland, is our mission so far as you are concerned.

No constra int upon your free w ill is intended—no int imida tionw i ll be a llow ed. \Vi th in the limits of this army, a t lea st, Marylanders sha ll once more enjoy their ancient freedom of t houghtand speech. \Ve know no enemies among you, and w il l proteet a l l of every Opinion . It is for you to decide your destiny,freely, and w ithout constra int . ~This a rmy w ill respect yourchoice, wha tever it may be ; and ,

w hile the Southern peoplew i ll rejoice to w elcome you to your natura l posi tion amongthem, they will only welcome you w hen you come of your ow nfree w ill.

R . E . LEE, General Commanding.

ROBERT EDWARD LEE 31 55

CHAMBERSBURG ORDER

Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia,CHAMBERSBURG, PA.

,June 27, 1 863.

TH E commanding genera l has observed with much sat isfact ion the conduct of the troops on the march, and confi dent lyanticipa tes results commensurate with the high spirit they haveman i fested. NO troops could have displayed greater fortitude,or better performed the arduous ma rches of the past t en days.

Their conduct in other respects has, with few exceptions, beenin keeping with their character as soldiers, and entitles them to

approbation and pra ise .

There have, however, been instances of forget fulness, onthe pa rt of some, that they have in keeping the yet unsulliedreputa tion of t he army, and tha t the duties exact ed of us bycivili z a tion and Christianity are not less Obligatory in the count ry Of the enemy than in our ow n .

The commanding genera l considers that no greater disgrace could befa ll t he a rmy, and, through it, our whole peoplethan t he perpetration of the barbarous outrages on the innocent and defenceless, and the wanton destruct ion of privateproperty, that have marked the course of the enemy in our ow ncountry. Such proceedings not only disgrace the perpetrators,and a l l connected with them

, but are subversive of the discipline and effi ciency of the army, and destructive of the endsof our present movements. It must be remembered that w emake w ar only upon a rmed men, and tha t w e cannot take vengeance for t he wrongs our people have suffered without lowering ourselves in t he eyes of a l l whose abhorrence has beenexcited by the a trocities of our enemy, without offendingaga inst Him to whom vengeance belongeth, without whose i avor and support our efforts must a l l prove in va in .

The commanding genera l, there fore, ea rnestly exhorts thetroops to absta in ,

with most scrupulous ca re, from unneces

sary or wanton injury to priva te property ; and he enjoinsupon a l l officers to arrest and bring to summa ry punishmenta l l who sha ll in any w ay offend aga inst the orders on thissubject .

R . E . LEE, General .


FINAL ADDRESS TO OLD SOLD I ERS

H eadquarters Army Northern Virginia ,April 1 0, 1 865 .

AFTER four years of arduous service , ma rked by unsur

passed courage and fortitude, the Army of Northern V i rgin iahas been compelled to yield to overw helming numbers and

resources.

I need not tell the survivors of SO many ha rd - fought ba ttles,w ho have rema ined steadfast to the last

,that I have con

sented to this result from no distrust of them ; but , feeling tha tva lor and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the loss that w ould have attended t he continua tionof the contest , I have determined to avoid the useless sacrificeof those w hose past services have endea red them to theircountrymen .

By the terms of agreement , officers and men can returnto their homes and rema in there until ex changed .

You will take with you the satisfact ion that proceeds fromthe consciousness of duty fa ithfully performed ; and I earnest lypray tha t a merci ful God will ex tend to you H is blessing a nd

protection .

With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your country, and a gra te ful remembrance of your kindand generous consideration of mysel f, I b id you an a ffect iona t efa rewell. R . E . LEE, General .

ACCEPTING COLLEGE PRESI DENCY

POWHATAN COUNTY, August 24,1 865 .

GENTLEMEN—I have delayed for some days replying toyour letter of the 5 th inst . , in form ing me of my elect ion byt he boa rd of trustees to the presidency of W a shington College , from a desire to give t he subject due considerat ion . Ful

ly impressed w ith the responsibilities of the Ofli ce , I have fearedthat I Should be unable to d ischarge i t s dut ies to the sa t isfac

tion of the trustees or to the benefit of the country. The propereducation of youth requires not only grea t ability, but I fea rmore strengt h than I now possess, for I do not feel able to


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

LETTER TO H . C. SAUNDERS

From Recollect ions and Let t ers of General Lee.

’Copyri ght , Doubleday . Page and

pony, and used here by permi ssion of t he publishers.

LE ! INGTON, VIRGINIA, August 22, 1 866.

Mr. HERBERT C. SAUNDERS,3 Bolton Ga rdens,South Kensingt on, London, England.

My DEAR MR . SAUNDERS—I received today your letterof the 3I st ul t . Wha t I stated to you in conversation , duringthe visit w hich you did me the honour to pay me in Novemberlast, w as entirely for your ow n informa tion, and w as in no

w ay intended for publication. My only object w as to grati fythe interest which you appa rently evinced on t he severa l topicswhich were introduced, and to point to facts which you mightinvestigate, i f you so desired, in your ow n w ay . I have an oh

ject ion to the publication of my private conversations, whichare never intended but for those to whom they are addressed.

I cannot, therefore, without an entire disregard of the rulewhich I have followed in other cases, and in violat ion of myow n sense of propriety, assent to what you propose . I hope,therefore , you will ex cuse me. Wha t you may think properto publish I hope w i ll be the result of your ow n Observa tionsand convictions, and not on my authority. In the hasty perusa l which I have been obliged to give the manuscript enclosedto me, I perceive many inaccuracies, resulting as much, perhaps, from my imperfect na rration as from misapprehensionon your pa rt . Though fully appreciating your kind wish tocorrect certa in erroneous statements as rega rds mysel f, I prefer rema ining silent to doing anything tha t might ex cite angrydiscussion a t this time, when strong efforts are being madeby conservative men,

North and South, to susta in PresidentJohnson in his policy, which , I think, offers the only means ofhea ling the lamentable division of the country

,and w hich the

result of the late convention a t Philadelphia gives great promise of doing. Thanking you for the Opportun ity afforded meof expressing my Opin ion before executing your purpose, Iam, et c.,

R . E . LEE .


LETTER TO GOVERNOR LETCHER

NEAR CARTERSVILLE, V IRGINIA, August 28, 1 865 .

HON . JOHN LETCHER, Lex ingt on, Va .

My DEAR SIR—I w as much pleased to hear of your returnto your home and to learn by your letter of t he 2d of the

kindness and consideration with which you w ere treated during your arrest, and of t he sympathy ex tended to you by yourformer congressiona l associates and friends in Washingt on .

The conci l iatory manner in w hich President Johnson Spoke ofthe South must have been particularly agreeable to one who hasthe interest s of i t s people so much a t hea rt a s yoursel f . I wishtha t Sp irit could become more genera l . It would go far topromote confidence and to calm feelings which have too longex isted . The questions w h ich for years w ere in d ispute betw een the Sta te and Genera l Governments, and which unhappily w ere not decided by the dicta tes of reason, but referred tothe decision of w ar, having been decided aga inst us, it is thepa rt of w isdom to acquiesce in the result, and of candor torecogn i z e the fact .The interests of t he Sta te are therefore the same as those

of the Un i t ed States. I t s prosperity w ill rise or fa ll with thew el fare of the country . The duty of i t s citi z ens, then , appearsto me too p l a in to admi t of doubt . Al l should un ite in honeste ffort s to ob l i t era te t he effect s of w ar, and to restore the blessings of pea ce . They Should rema in i f possible in the countrypromot e harmony and good feeling ; qua li fy themselves to

vot e. and el ect to the State and genera l legislatures wise and

pa t riot ic men , w ho w ill devote their abil it ies to the interests oft he country and the hea l ing of a l l dissensions. I have luvariab ly recommended th is course Since the cessa tion of hostil ities,a nd have endeavoured to practice it mysel f . I am much obligedto you for the int erest you have expressed in my acceptanceof the presidency of Wa sh ington College . I f I believed I couldbe of advan t age to t he yout h of the country ,

I Should not hesita te . I have st ated to the commit tee of trustees the Object ions w h ich ex ist in my opin ion to my filling t he posit ion, and

w ill yield to the ir judgment . Pleas e present me toMrs. Letcher and your children, and believe me

Most truly yours, R . E . LEE.


LETTER TO CAPTAIN TATNALL

NEAR CARTERSVILLE , V IRGINIA, 7th September, 1 865 .

CAPTAIN JOSIAH TATNALL , Savannah, Ga .

SI R—I have received your letter of the 23d ul t . , and in

reply w i ll sta te the course I have pursued under circumstancesSimila r to your ow n

, and w i ll leave you to judge of i t s propriety . L ike yoursel f I have Since t he cessation of hosti lit iesadvised a l l w ith w hom I have conversed on the subject w hocome within the terms of the President’s proclamation to takethe oath of a llegiance and accept in good fa ith the amnestyoffered . But I have gone farther and have recommended tothose w ho were ex cluded from the i r benefits to make appl i

cation under the proviso of the proclamat ion of the 29th ofMay to be embraced in i t s provisions. Both classes in orderto be restored to their former rights and privileges were re

quired to perform a certa in act , and I do not see that an ac

know ledgmen t of fault is expressed in one more than the

other. The w ar be ing a t an end, the Southern States havingla id dow n thei r arms and the questions a t issue betw een themand the Nort hern Sta t es hav ing been decided , I believe it to bethe duty of every one to un it e in the restoration of the countryand the reestablishment of peace and harmony. These con

siderat ions governed me in the counsels I gave to others and

induced me on the 1 3th of June to make application to be included in the terms of t he amnesty proclamation . I have not

received an answ er and cannot in form you wha t has been the

decision of the President . But w hatever tha t may be, I donot see how the course I have recommended and practiced can

prove detrimenta l to t he former President of the Con federa teSta t es. It appears to me that the a llayment of passion ,

the

dissipa t ion of prejud ice, and t he restoration of reason w i lla lone enable the people of t he country to acquire a true know ledge and form a correct judgment of t he events of the pastfour years. It w ill I th ink be admitted that Mr. Davis hasdone noth ing more than a l l ci t i z ens of the Southern St ates,and Should not be held accountable for acts performed bythem in t he ex ercise of w hat had been considered by them an

unquestionable right . I have too ex a lted an opin ion of the



course capable of shielding you from such charges : the effec

tual prevent ion of a l l such occurrences in the future.

R . E . L EE,

President Washington Col lege.

LETTER TO W . H. F. LEE

From ‘ Reeol lect ions and Let t ers of Genera l Lee .

’Copyright , Doubleday, Page and

Company, and used here by permi ssion of t he publishers.

LE ! INGTON, VIRGIN IA, February 26, 1 867.

MY DEAR FITZ HUGH—Youmust not think because I writeso seldom that you are absent from my thoughts. I think of

you constantly, and am ever revolving in my mind a l l thatconcerns you. I have an ardent desire to see you re - establishedat your home and enjoying the pleasure of prosperity around

you. I know this cannot be accomplished a t once, but mustcome from continuous labour, economy and industry, and bethe result of years of good management . W e have now nothing to do but to attend to our materia l interests which collect ively w ill advance the interests of the State, and to aw a itevents. The dominant party cannot reign forever, and truthand justice will a t last preva il . I hope I shall be able to getdown to see you and Rob during the next vacation . I Sha ll thenhave a more correct apprehension of existing circumstances,and can follow your progress more satisfactorily. I w as

very much obliged to you for the n ice eye - glasses you Sent meXmas, and asked your mother and the gi rls to thank you forthem

,which I hope they did . I fea r they are too n ice for my

present circumstances, and do not think you ought to Spendanything except on your fa rm, until you get that in a prosperons condition . W e have a l l , now , to confine ourselvesstrictly to our necessities. While you are your ow n man

ager you can ca rry on cultiva tion on a la rge sca le w ith compa ra tively less expense than on a sma ll sca le, and your profitswill of course be grea ter. I would commence a system of pro

gressive improvement which w ould improve your land and add

steadily to your income. I have received, lately, from FitzLee a narrative of the opera tions of h is division of cava lry.

I requested Custis to write to you for a report of your opera

ROBERT EDWARD LEE 3163

t ions during the winter of 1 863-

4 down to April 1 8, 1 865 .

How are you progressing with it ? I know the difficulties ofmaking such a na rra tive a t this time ; still, by correspondencew ith your Officers, and by exerting your ow n memory, muchcan be done, and it will help me greatly in my undertaking.

Make it as full as you can , embracing a l l circumstances bea ring on the campa igns affecting your Operations and i llustratingthe conduct of your division . I hOpe you will be able to getup to see us this spring or summer. Select the time when

you can best absent yoursel f, that you may feel the freer andenjoy yoursel f the more . I wish I were nearer to you a l l .

Your mother is about the same, busy with her needl e andher pen, and as cheerful as ever .

Affectiona tely your father,Genera l Wm. H . F. Lee. R . E . LEE .

LETTER TO GENERAL LONGSTREET

From ‘ Recol lect ions and Let t ers of Genera l Lee .

’Copyri ght , Doubleday. Page and

Compa ny, and used here by permi ssion of the publi shers.

LE ! INGTON,V IRGINIA

,October 29, 1 867.

GENERAL J . LONGSTREET,2 1 Carondelet Street

,New Orleans, La .

MY DEAR GENERAL —When I received your letter of the8th of June, I had just returned from a Short trip to BedfordCounty, and w as prepa ring for a more ex tended visit to theWhite Sulpher Springs for the benefit of Mrs. Lee

’s hea lth.

As I could not write such a letter as you desired, and as you

sta ted that you would leave New Orleans for Mex ico in a

week from the time you wrote, to be absent some months, Idetermined to delay my reply till my return . Although Ihave been here more than a month, I have been so occupied bynecessary business, and so incommoded by the effects of an

a ttack of illness, from which I have not yet recovered, that thisis the first day that I have been able to write to you. I haveavoided a l l discussion of politica l questions Since the cessationof hostilities, and have, in my ow n conduct , and in my recommenda t ions to others, endeavoured to con form to existing circumst ances. I consider this the part of wisdom, as well as of


duty ; but , while I think w e Should act under the l aw and ac

cording to the law imposed upon us, I ca nnot think that thecourse pursued by the dominant polit ica l party the best forthe interests of the country, and therefore cannot say so or

give it my approva l . This is t he reason w hy I could not comply w ith the request in your letter. I am of t he Opin ion thata l l w ho can should vote for the most intelligent, honest , andconscientious men eligible to offi ce, irrespect ive of former party Opin ions, who will endeavour to make the new const itutionsand the laws passed under them as beneficia l as possible to thetrue interests, prosperity, and liberty of a l l classes and conditions of the people . With my best wishes for your health andhappiness, and my kindest regards to Mrs. Longstreet and

your children ,I am,

with grea t regard, and very truly and sin

cerely yours, R . E . LEE .

LETTER TO FITZ HUGH LEE

From ‘Recollect ion s and Let t ers of Genera l Lee .


ompan y , and used here by perm i ssion of t he publ i shers.

LE ! INGTON,V IRGINIA

,December 2 1 , 1 867 .

MY DEAR FITZ HUGH—I w as very glad last n ight to re

ce ive your letter of the 1 8th announcing your return to R ichmond . I did not like my daughter to be so far aw ay. I amglad, however, that you had so pleasant a visit , w h ich has no

doubt prepa red you for t he enjoyments of home, and w i llmake the repose of Xmas w eek in Petersburg doubly agreeable .

I had a very pleasant v isit to Brandon a fter parting w i th you,

w hich Custis and Robert seemed equa l ly to enjoy, and I haveregretted tha t I could only Spend one n ight . I passed Shirleyboth going and return ing w ith regret, from my inabi l ity tostop ; but Custis and I Spent a day a t H ickory H i ll on our

w ay up very agreeably . My visit to Petersburg w a s ex tremelypleasant . Besides t he pleasure of seeing my daugh ter and being w ith you,

w h ich w as very grea t , I w as gra tified in seeingmany friends. I n addition when our armies w ere in front ofPetersburg I suffered so much in body and mind on accountof the good townspeople, especia lly on tha t gloomy night w henI w as forced to abandon them,

that I have a lw ays reverted to



LETTER TO GENERAL EARLY

From Recollect ions and Let t ers of General Lee .

’Copyright . Doubleday . Page and

Company, and used here by permi ssion of t he publishers.

March 1 6, 1 866.

MY DEAR GENERAL—I am very much obliged to you forthe cop ies of my letters, forwarded with yours of Janua ry2sth . I hope you will be able to send me reports of the operat ions of your commands in the campa ign, from t he Wildernessto Richmond, at Lynchburg, in the Va lley, Maryland, etc. ;

al l sta tist ics as regards numbers, destruction of private property by the Federa l troops, etc.

, I should like to have, as I wishmy memory strengt hened on these points. It will be difficultto get the world to understand the odds aga inst which w e

fought, and the destruction or loss of a l l returns of the a rmyembarrass me very much . I read your letter from Havana tothe New York Times

,and w as pleased with the temper in

which it w as written . I have Since received the paper conta ining it, published in the City of Mexico, and a lso your letterin reference to Mr. Davis. I understand and apprecia te t hemotives w hich prompted both letters, and think they will be ofservice in the w ay you intended . I have been much pa ined toSee t he attempts made to cast od ium upon Mr. Davis, but donot think they will be successful w ith the reflecting or in

formed portion oi the country . The accusations aga inst mysel f I have not thought proper to notice, or even to correctmisrepresenta tions of my words and acts. We sha l l have to

be pa t ien t and suffer for a while a t least ; and a l l controversy,I think

,will onl y serve to prolong angry and bitter feeling,

and postpone t he period when reason and cha rity may resumethei r sway. At present the public mind is not prepared to re

ceive the truth . The feelings which influenced you to leave thecountry were natura l, and, I presume, were uppermost in the

breasts of many. It w as a ma tter which each one had to decide for himsel f, as he only could know the reasons whichgoverned him. I w as pa rticularly anxious on your account , asI had the same apprehensions to which you refer. I am trulyglad tha t you are beyond the reach of annoyance, and hope youmay be able to employ yoursel f profitably and usefully. Mex


ico is a beauti ful country , ferti le, of vast resources ; an d , witha stabl e government and virtuous popul ation,

wi ll rise to greatneSS . I do not think tha t your letters can be construed by yourformer associates as reflect ing upon them, and I have neverhea rd the least blame cast by those who have rema ined uponthose w ho thought it best to leave the country . I think I st ated in a former letter t he reasons which governed me, and w illnot therefore repea t them . I hope, in time, peace w i ll be re

stored to the country, and that the South may enjoy somemeasure of prosperity. I fear

,how ever, much suffering is in

store for her, and that her peopl e must be prepared to ex ercisefortitude and forbearance . I must beg you to present my kindregards to the gentl emen w ith you, and, with my best wishesfor yoursel f and undimin ished esteem, I am,

Most truly yours,R . E . LEE .

DESCRIPTION OF TRAVELLER

From ‘Recollect ions and Le t t ers of Genera l Lee .


Company, and used here by perm i ssion of t he publi shers.

I F I were an a rtist l ike you I would draw a true pictureof

“Traveller”—representing his fi ne proport ions, muscula r fi gure , deep chest and short back, strong haunches, fla t legs, sma l lhead, broad forehead, delica te ea rs, quick eye, sma ll feet, andblack mane and ta il . Such a p icture would inspire a poet ,whose gen ius could then depict h is w orth and describe h is en

durance of toil, hunger, thirst, hea t , cold ,and the dangers and

sufferings through w hich he passed . H e could dila te uponh is sagacity and a ffection , and h is inva riable response to everywish of h is rider. H e might even imagi ne h is thoughts,through t he long n ight ma rches and days of battl e throughwhich he has passed . But I am no a rtist ; I can only say he is aCon federate gray. I purchased him in t he mounta ins of V ir~gin ia in the autumn of 1 86 1 , and he has been my pa tient follow er ever Since—to Georgia , the Carol inas, and back to V ir~ginia . H e ca rried me through the Seven Days’ battle aroundR ichmond, t he second Manassas, a t Sharpsburg , Fredericksburg, the last days a t Chancellorsville , to Pennsylvan ia ,

a t Get

tysburg, and back to the Rappahannock . From t he commence


ment of the campa ign in 1 864 at Orange, till i ts close aroundPetersburg, t he saddle w as scarcely off h is back as he passed

through the fi re of t he Wilderness, Spot t sy lvama , Cold H ar

bour, and across the James R iver. H e w as a lmost in da i lyrequisition in t he winter of 1 864

- 65 on the long l ine of de

fenses from Chickahominy, north of R ichmond , to Hatcher’s

Run ,south of the Appomattox. In the campa ign of 1 865 , he

bore me from Petersburg to the fina l days a t Appoma ttoxCourt House. You must know the comfort he is to me in mypresent retirement . He is well supplied with equipments. Twosets have been sent to him from England , one from the ladiesof Ba ltimore

, and one w as made for him in R ichmond ; but Ithink his favourite is the American saddle from St . Louis.

Of a l l his compan ions in toil ,“R ichmond,

” “ Brown Roan ,

”

“Ajax, and quiet “

Lucy Long,”he is the on ly one tha t re

t a ined his vigour . The first tw o expired under their onerousburden , and the last tw o fa i led . You can ,

I am sure, fromwha t I have sa id, pa int h is portra it .



w ith friends in Charleston , w hich throw a flood of l ight on the

questions then agitating the publ ic mind of America.

Return ing to the Un i ted Sta tes in 1 836, Legaré w as elected to

Congress as a Un ion D emocra t, but, ch i efly because of h is Opposi tionto Van Buren’s financ ia l pol icies, he w as defea ted in the autumnelections of 1 838. He supported Harri son in the campa ign of 1 841 ,and a fter the President’s dea th , Apri l 4, 1 841 , and Tyler

’s succession ,

Legaré w as appointed Attorney - genera l. Meanw hi le, on Webster’sresigna tion ,

Legaré w as asked to act as Secretary of Sta te ad in t erim,

a w ork he performed in addi tion to that w h ich a lready devolved uponhim. Wh i le serving in th i s capa city Legaré w ent to Boston in Jun e,1 843, to join the President and the rest of the Cab inet offi cers in t he

unvei l ing of the Bunker H i ll Monument, and died there June tw ent ieth , a fter a brief i llness .Legaré

’s activi ty in l i terature w as ma inly in connect ion w i th the

Southern R evi ew , w h ich he and Stephen E ll iott founded in 1 827.

On the death of Cra fts, L egaré took his place in the field of lettersa t Cha rleston, but i t can scarcely be sa id that he possessed the geniusor origina l ity of Cra fts.The first number of the R evi ew appeared in February, 1 828.

Modeled a fter the Engl i sh periodica ls, and designed to combat thea lleged cen tra l i z ing tendencies on the part of the genera l Government, the j ourna l w ent through e ight volumes, and exp ired w henL egaré cea sed w ri t ing for i t .Whi le L egare

’s fame is ch iefly tha t of a scholar in pol itics , hew as a frequent contributor to the new spapers and period ica ls of h isday , and he displayed rare ta lent as w ell a s unusua l pow er of research . H is know ledge of history and pol it ica l economy i s a lsoeveryw here apparent. Of h is essays, the best are probably those on“The Democracy of Athens,” “Demosthenes,” and “ Roman Legislation .

” I n the last named he show s a mastery of the c iv i l l aw , and,w i th the ex ception of Edw a rd L iv ingston

, he probably knew moreabout the subj ect than any of h i s contemporaries. And

,w h i le Legaré

left no volume beh ind h im,he seems to have been engaged in trans

lating H e ineccius into Engl ish a t the t ime of h is dea th. On the

w hole , therefore, one cannot escape the conv iction tha t, had he devoted h imsel f ex clus ively to l i tera ture, he w ould have contribut edsometh ing of perma nent va lue to the w orld of lett ers. But even as

i t w as, he held before the v ision of h is countrymen t he idea ls of apure, h igh - m inded statesman , a un i ted country governed by a freeand educa ted people . H is v iew s on finance, civ il serv ice, the tari ff,and the del ica te quest ions arising in the field of d iplomacy w ere suchas render them st ill valuable both to the student and the man of

HUGH SWINTON LEGARE

afi airs. A graceful , finished speaker—an art he cult ivated w i th

ex traordinary perseverance—he scarcely had h is superior as an

ora tor among the men of his day , unless one has Edw ard Everett inmind. Legaré a lw ays knew w hat he w anted to say , and sa id i t

earnestly, eloquently, w i thout a ff ecta tion or bombast. His temperament, how ever, and t he circumstances of h is l i fe w ere not ca lcula tedto make him a great leader in poli t ics. Hence, in spi te of hi s cul

ture, h is sense of honor, his versat i li ty and charm of manner, hisunw earying di ligence, Legaré w as l i ttle adapted e ither by na ture oreduca tion to head a movement or buffet the storm of active li fe.H is career on t he w hole is w ell deserv ing of careful study be

cause i t i llustra tes in a striking manner the gradua l implica tion ofthe tari ff w ith the slavery controversy, driving Legaré, as i t did

many others, into paths l itt le cal cul ated to develop w ha t w as bestin him.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Wri tings of Hugh Sw inton L egaré. Ed i ted by h is sister, Mrs.

Mary Bullen ; 2 vols. Charleston, 1 846.

Eulogy on Legaré. By Ex - Senator W. C. Preston, a ft erw ardPresident of t he South Carol ina College. Charleston , 1 843.

Hugh Sw inton Legaré. Sew anee R evi ew , January and Apri l ,I 2.90

Unpubl ished CorreSpondence. (Mr. Ya tes Snow den, of Columbia , S .C has in h is possession a number of unpubl ished let t ers ofLega ré and h is contemporaries. )


LORD BYRON’

S CHARACTER AND W RITINGS

Al l select ions from ‘L i fe and Wri tings.’

LORD BYRON’S li fe w as not a litera ry, or cloistered and

scholast ic li fe . H e had lived genera lly in t he w orld , and a l

ways and entirely for the world . The ama t nemus et fugi turbes, which has been predicated of the whole tune ful tribe ,w as only in a qua lified sense a characteristic of h is. I f hesought seclusion ,

it w as not for t he retired leisure or the sweetand innocent tranqui llity of a country li fe. H is retreats w ererather like that of Tiberius a t Caprea - the gloomy solitude ofmisanthropy and remorse , hiding i t s despa ir in da rkness, orseeking to stupefy and drow n it in vice and debauchery . But ,

even w hen he fled from the sight of men , it w as on ly that hemight be sought a fter the more, and

,in the depth of h is

hiding places, as w as long ago remarked of Timon of Athens,he could not live w ithout vomi ting forth t he ga ll of h is bitterness, and send ing abroad most elabora te curses in good verseto be admired of the very wretches w hom he affected to

despise . H e lived in the w orld , and for the w orld—nor is i t

often tha t a career so brief a ffords to biography so much impressive incident, or that the folly of an und isc iplined and

reckless sp irit has assumed such a motley wea r, and played Off ,

before God and man , so ma ny ex travagant and fantastica lantics.

On the other hand , there w as,amidst a l l i t s irregula rities,

someth ing strangely interesting, something, occasiona lly ,even

grand and imposing in Lord Byron’

s character and mode ofli fe . H is w hole being w a s, indeed , to a rema rkable degree,ex traordina ry, fanci ful, and fascinating. Al l that drew uponhim t he eyes of men ,

w hether for good or evil—h is passionsand h is gen ius, h is enthusiasm and h is w oe , his triumphs, andh is dow n fa ll—sprang from t he same source , a feverish t em

perament , a burn ing, distempered , insatiable imagina tion ; andthese, in their turn , acted most pow erfully upon the imagination and the sensibility of others. W e w ell remember a time—i t is not more than tw o lustres ago

—w hen w e could neverthink of him ourselves but as an idea l being—a crea ture, touse h is ow n words,

“

of loneliness and mystery”—moving



had the same advantage . H is muse, like Horace’s image of

Care, mounted with him the steed and the gondola , the postcha ise and the packet - ship. H is poems are, in a manner, t hejourna ls and common -

place books of the wandering Childe.

Thus, it is sta ted or hinted that a horrible incident , like tha tupon which t he Giaour turns, had nearly taken place with inByron’s ow n Observa tion while in the East . H is sketches of

the sublime and beauti ful in nature, seem to be mere images,or so to express it, shadows throw n down upon h is pages fromthe objects, which he visited, on ly colored and i llumined withsuch feelings, reflections and associations as they natura llyawaken in contemplative and susceptible minds. H is ea rlyvisit to Greece, and the hea rt felt enthusiasm with which hedwelt upon her loveliness even

“in her age of w oe

”—upon theglory which once adorned, and tha t which might sti ll awa i t her—have identified him with her name, in a manner which subsequent events have made quite remarkable. His poetry, whenw e read it over aga in, seems to breathe Of “

the sanctifi edphren z y of prophecy and inspiration .

”He now appea rs to

have been the hera ld Of her resuscitation . The voice of lament a t ion , which he sent forth over Christendom,

w as as i f it hadissued from a l l her caves, fraught with t he w o and the w rongsof ages, and the deep vengeance w hich a t length aw oke—and

not in va in ! In expressing ourselves as w e have done uponthis subject , it is to us a melancholy reflection tha t our language is far more suitable to w hat w e have felt, than to wha tw e now feel, in reference to the li fe and cha racter of LordByron .

The last years of tha t li fe—t he wanton , gross, and Oftendull and feeble ribal dry of some of h is la test productionsbroke the spell which he had la id upon our souls ; and w e are

by no means sure that w e have not since yielded too much tothe disgust and aversion which follow disenchantment like i tsshadow.

The literary reputation Of Lord Byron has been establishedbeyond a l l possibility of change or decay. W e do not bel ieve—notwithstanding some apparent exceptions—that the opinions of contemporaries, in regard to the w orks of men of

gen ius, have ever materia l ly differed from those of posterity.

But this is especial ly true Of those writers w ho have addressed

HUGH SWINTON LEGARE 31 75

themselves more to the feelings Of mankind, than to the im

agina t ion . Milton ,a lthough h is works were far more justly

appreciated by h is ow n age, than is common ly thought, certa in ly did not hold exactly as high a rank in genera l estimationthen as has been conceded to him since. But—besides the

charact er of that wretched age—Milton’s poetry is addressed

to the learned . It bears, upon every line of it, t he impress

of vast erudition and consumma te art . It is true he is the

grea test master Of t he sublime that any language has to boastof—greater than Shakspeare

—greater than Dante—greaterthan Homer. But it requires study and reflection , objects Ofcompa rison and a competent familiarity with litera ture, toperceive the ama z ing magn itude of this glorious orb . A vul

gar eye might glance over him a thousand times, and still mistake this “ ocean of flame” for a star of an in ferior class. Thisis a grea t obstacle to h is popularity—and it is one not less formidab le , that he is deficient in pathos, and in topics Of generalinterest . Byron wrote because he felt, and as he felt. It maybe sa id most justly of h is genius—furor arma min istra t . In

stead Of“ lisping in numbers,

”as Pope did, he sighed and

groaned and cursed in them. H e spoke to the hea rt s of men,and, however the Spirit of most Of his productions is to be censured , h is voice, whether for good or for evil, has seldomfa iled to fi nd an echo there .

I t may in genera l be remarked of his poetry, as Of most Ofthat of the present age, that it is not sufli cient ly elabora ted.

Many feeble, prosa ic, and even unmean ing lines abound everywhere in his finest compositions. English cri ticism is less fast idious in this respect, than that of any other language, andt hings are pardoned or passed over by it which would endangerthe success of a work in France or Ita ly, and would have destroyed it a t Athens. But i t is impossible to read any Of Byron’

s masterp ieces a long with the best passages Of our classica l poetry, without being struck with t he genera l in feriorityand carelessness Of his diction , as well as with the great inequa lity of h is style . Compare for instance, anything that hehas done, (except, of course, some highly wrought passages )in the Spenserian stan z a , with Spenser himsel f, or with thefirst pa rt Of Thomson

’s

“

Castle Of Indolence.

” Whatever maybe thought Of their relative merits in other respects, w e fancy


everybody, w ho has either ear or taste , must agree that, as faras mere language goes, there is a richness, ha rmony and uni

form fin ish in the works of those masters, which are sadlywanting in Byron . So in sa tire , he has produced nothing to beta lked of in compa rison to D ryden

’s vigorous and bold pen , or

the condensed and sentent ious elegance of Pope . Nothing canbe more powerful and pa thetic than h is poetry in h is loftier vein—but the same object ion lies here to the w ant of tha t l imel abor, w hich ent itles a work of genius to be classed amongperfect specimens of art . Lord Byron threw off some

, probably most of h is compositions, with a lmost as much rapidity asa hackneyed w riter for t he da ily press. Byron does notstrike us as a poe t of very ferti le invent ion . H e composed,it is true, w ith considerable facility, but there is no va rietyeither in h is subjects or h is style . W e doubt

,for this reason,

whether he could have become distinguished as a dramat icpoet , in the modern sense of t he term .

Besides this, h is compositions are rather short sketchesof notable objects, or occasiona l medifa t ions upon them, thancomplete and w ell combined works. Still it is hard to say w ha tt he author of “Manfred” might not have done . One thingseems probable—that had he been born a t Athens, a t the rightt ime, he might have riva l led E schy lus and Sophocles, in tragedy d Ia Grecque . Tw o or three heroic drama t is persome, a

simple plot , beauti ful or pow erful na rrat ive and d ia logue, int err upted by passiona te ejaculation and chora l ode—such a

task w ould have been Byron’

s element .Upon the w hole , ex cepting t he tw o first places in our l iter

a ture—a nd Pope and D ryden ,w ho are w riters of quite an

other stamp—w e do not know w ho is to be placed , a l l th ingsconsidered, above Byron . W e doubt between h im and Spen

ser—but no other name is prominent enough to present itsel fto us in such a competition . H is greatest riva l , however, w ash imsel f . W e throw dow n h is book d issatisfied . Every pagerevea ls powers w hich m ight have done so much more forart—for glory—and for virtue.



me. For a couple of days a fterwards, I felt precisely as onedoes a fter taking a dose Of laudanum . The fi rst day my appctite w as voracious, though quite hea l thy, the second and thirdi t w as still great, but morbid, attended with an occasiona lfeeling Of disgust . I am now quite restored, and am in mostex cellent condition . I am sa tisfied that, with a l l necessa ry prudence in taking them, their effi ca cy must be very grea t ; andI shal l cert a inly pass some weeks there next summer. Therecan be no doubt , however, that the effects of the water are w onderful ly increased by the manner Of living a t Spa

—brea thingthe a ir of the mounta ins a t six O’clock in the morn ing, wa l ki ng,riding, and driving many miles a day , ban ishing a l l ca re, goingto bed early, etc. , etc. How strange it is to meet people therewhom one has seen in the midst of Courts and capita l s, with a l ltheir trumpery and constra int, negligently dressed, mounted ondonkeys, ta lki ng with t he first comer, without distinction of

persons, and acknow ledging themselves happier and hea lthier,both in body and mind

,than those envied (but not enviable )

ci rcles where it is the silly ambition of mankind to shine ! W a t

ering- places are a sort Of confessiona ls or shrines, set apa rtby na ture, to which pi lgrims of a l l nations resort to renounce,for a moment , t he lying van ities of t he w orld ,

and get abso

lut ion for sins and errors they are sure to return to as soon as

Opportun ity presents. Of these pi lgrims by far t he greaterportion (a t least, of any one nation ) are English . It is inconceivable wha t multitudes of them are swa rming over thewhole face of th is country , paying twice and thrice as muchas they ought for everything they stand in need Of

H . S. L .

HUGH SWINTON LEGARE 31 79

DEMOSTHENES

LET any one, w ho has considered the sta te of manners at

Athens just a t the moment Of h is appea rance upon the stageof public li fe, imagine what an impression such a phenomenonmust have made upon a people so lost in profligacy and sensu

a lity of a l l sorts. What wonder that t he unprincipled thoughgi fted, Demades, the very person ifica tion of the witty and reckless libertin ism Of the age, should deride and scoff a t thisstrange man, living as nobody el se l ived, think ing as nobodyelse thought ; a prophet , crying from h is solitude of greattroubles a t hand ; the apostle Of t he past, the preacher of animpossible restoration ; the witness to his contemporaries tha ttheir degeneracy w as incorrigible and thei r doom hopeless,and that another sea l in the book w as broken, and a new era

of ca lamity and down fa ll opened in the history of nations.

W e have sa id that the cha racter Of Demosthenes might bedivined from h is eloquence ; and so the character of his elo

quence w as a mere emana tion of h is ow n . It w as the li fe and

soul of the man, the pa triot , the statesman.

“I t s h ighest a t

tribute of a l l ,”says D ionysius, is the spirit of li fe—To 1 1m m—tha t pervades it .” H is very language dictates to a reader

how it is to be uttered , and I should think it impossible (it is the same critic who speak s ) tha t one with the sense

of a brute, nay , of a stock or stone, could pronounce histext w ithout distinguishing t he various mean ing, and kindlingwith the changing passions of the master. This is t he firstand great characteristic of Demosthenes, the orator. You see

absolutely nothing of the artist ; nay , you forget the speakera ltogether : it is the statesman , or the man only, that is be fore

you. To him, eloquence, wonderful as his w as considered asmere rhetoric, is but an instrument , not , as in Cicero, a thingto boast of and display. This fea ture of his character hasbeen w ell sei z ed and portrayed by the author Of a declama toryencomium on Demosthenes, ascribed to Lucian and printedamong h is works. Gesner and Becker a fter him will not consent to give it up ; a l l w e can say is that, i f it is the work ofthe Volta ire Of antiquity, Lucian w as not Lucian when he

wrote it. But , though too high -flow n and exaggerated for


i t s supposed author, it is a striking instance of the admira tionin which the great ora tor w as held by the Greeks in a l l ages .

It is from him w e borrow t he phrase the Homer of Prose,”

which describes so w el l t he admi t ted perfections of Demosthenes as a wri ter. But it is not h is style only that is extolledthere . H e admires h is li fe , his admin istra tion ,

h is truly touching and sublime death . He puts into the mouth of Antipa tera supposed conversation in reference to this last event , inwhich t he la tter does justice to his great adversary in a magnan imous spiri t, and regrets that he chose rather to die freeand by h is ow n hand

,than survive a courtier for the favor,

or a dependent upon the mercy of t he conqueror. It cousecrates forever that tragica l scene a t Ca lauria , and leaves theimage of t he mighty ora tor upon t he mind w ith the grea testpictures of fict ion or history—w ith CEdipus a t Colonus or

Marius sitting upon t he ruins of Ca rt hage. W e cannot joinwith the author in his blasphemy aga inst heaven for t he tria lsto which the greatest men have almost a l w ays been subjected ,and none more than Demosthenes. W e know that sorrow isknow ledge ; that , i f in much wisdom there is much grief, thereverse is a lso true ; and that adversity is t he only school inwhich gen ius and virtue are permitted to take the ir highestdegrees.

The second remarkable fea ture of the eloquence of De

most henes is a consequence of the first : i t s ama z ing flexibi lityand va riety. As he th inks only of the subject

,so he a lw ays

speaks like h is subject . W e have endeavored to illustra te th isthrough t he w hole course of th is paper. W e w anted to eradica te the fa lse and pern icious idea that D emosthen ia n is syn

onymous w ith ran t ing. At times,no doubt , on extraord inary

and ex citing occasions, he forgot himsel f in a transport ofpassion , and raged on t he Bema ,

a s Plutarch has it , like a

Bacchante . But w e w i l l venture to affi rm ,that w hen he d id

so, h is audience w as a s little conscious of i t as h imself , partaking fully w ith him in the phrenz y of t he moment . In genera l ,be a ims a t noth ing but the true and the natura l . H ence , everything is perfectly appropriate and fitting, and , in t he a lmostinfinite range Of h is speaking, from a specia l plea in bar or inabatement to t he sublime and ravish ing enthusiasm of the immortal defence of the Crown ,

every thing is every where just



and answering his ow n questions—as wishing to be taken in a

sense t he Opposit eo f what he seems to say—as doubting wha tor how he should speak—as dividing into pa rts, omitting andneglecting some points and fortifying others in advance—ascasting the blame upon h is adversary of t he very things forwhich he is himsel f censured—as often deliberating with thosewho hear him, sometimes even with his adversary—as describing the manners and language of men—as making mute thingsSpeak (that is rare in Demosthenes )—as drawing Off the mindsOf the audience from t he true quest ion before them—as ant icipat ing objections which he foresees w ill be made—as compa ring ana logous cases—as citing examples—as putting dow n

interruptions—as pretending to suppress or reserve something,

or to say less than he knows—as wa rn ing those he addressesto be on their guard—as venturing a t times on some boldproposit ion—as being angry, and even so far as to chide and

ra i l—as depreca ting, supplica ting,conciliating—as uttering

wishes or execra tions, and using somet imes a certa in familia rity with h is hearers. He will

,he continues, a im at other times,

a t other virtues of style - as brevity, i f the occasion ca ll for i t .H e w i l l bring the Object Often be fore their very eyes, etc.

, et c.

It is, indeed, in such ornaments of speech as these that thegrand excellence of Demosthenes consists—i t is by these tha tit becomes a thing of li fe, and power, and persuasion—a meansOf business—a motive of action—but there is never the leastprettiness or rhetoric—nothing fi ne, or show y, or theatrica lnothing in short , that can be spared , nothing that can be loppedOff w ithout mutilating and weaken ing the body as w ell as deforming it .And this leads us to consider a fourth characteristic of elo

quenco—i t s condensation and perfect logica l un ity. It is not

easy, perhaps, without ex tending these remarks farther thanwould be proper here, to make ourselves quite intelligible uponthis subject to the genera l reader. But every one that hasstudied Greek literature and art , will a t once perceivetha t w e refer to that un ity of design , that closeness of t exture and mutua l dependence of the parts—that ha rmony of

composition and exact fitness and proportion—in short , tha tGw yn ) 1 07m as Plato expresses it, w hich makes of everyproduction of genius a sort of organ i z ed body with nothing

HUGH SWINTON LEGARE’

3183

superfluous, nothing defective in it , but every thing necessa i'yto constitute a complete whole, answ ering perfect ly the endsof i t s being, whatever those may be . What Cicero says of t heStoica l philosophy may be applied to t he orat ions of Demosthemes. What is there in the w orks of na ture where such a

perfect arrangement and symmetry preva i ls, or in those ofman, so w ell put together, so compact, so intimately un ited ?Wha t consequent does not agree w ith i t s antecedent ? Wha tfollow s that does not answ er to tha t w hich goes before ?Wha t is there tha t is not so kn it together with t he rest, that,i f a single letter be removed , t he w hole structure w ould totter ?But , in truth, nothing can be removed, etc. W e d iffer, therefore , entirely, w ith Lord Brougham, w hen, in one of the pas

sages cited above , he speaks of this marvellous un ity and con

densa tion as a thing as much within t he reach of mediocrity asof gen ius. I t is, on t he contrary, the perfection of Greek art ,

and the orat ions of Demosthenes are in th is,as in every other

respect, the most exquisite model of it .Another excel lence, tha t has been mentioned repeatedly in

the course of t he preceding remarks, rema ins to be particularlynoticed . Not on ly do the ora tions of Demosthenes resemblet he great w orks of na ture in this, tha t their beauty and sublimity are inseparable from utility, or more properly speaking,tha t utility is t he ca rdina l principle of a l l their beauties, butthere is st i l l another ana logy betw een them . It is, tha t thegrandeur of t he whole result is not more remarkable than theelaborate and exquisite fin ish of the most minute deta i ls. D i

onysius, in t he essay so often referred to, a ims to show tha tthe orator w as by far the greatest master of composit ion the

w orld had ever seen . This critic may be relied on for such a

purpose . H is fault is,that he ex acts in a l l things rather a

pedantic precision and accuracy. I n short , he is hypercritica l,and is too little d isposed to make a llow ance for sma ll blemishes,even w hen they are redeemed by high virtues, or to approveand rel ish t he non ingra ta negl igen t ia

—the careless grace of

gen ius. But in Demosthenes, w hose eloquence makes himperfectly ecstat ica l in i t s pra ise , he sea rches in va in for a spot,how ever minute . H e takes h is ex amples a t random, and findsevery thing perfect every where . Certa inly, in the critica lcomparisons which he institutes between him and Plato and


Isocrates, it is impossible not to admit the soundness of h isjudgments. This prodigious perfection of style he affi rms tohave been a crea tion of t he orator’s. H e had studied, he thinks,a l l the masters who had gone be fore him, and , selecting fromeach w hat he excelled in,

made up a composit ion far superiorto any of i t s ingredients. Thucydides gave him h is force and

pregnancy, Lysias, his clea rness, ease,and na ture , Isocrates ,

h is occasiona l splendor and brilliancy, and Plato, h is ma jesty ,eleva tion, and abundance . That Demosthenes studied, and

studied profoundly, a l l these models w e have no doubt . Of

Thucydides, especia lly, the tradition represents him to havebeen a devoted admirer. But eclect icism

,imita tion , w as out

of the question w ith him . Undoubtedly he w as indebted tothem for having done so much to perfect the instrument hew as to use—the Greek language ; and their beauties and de

fect s were hints to him in the tra in ing of his ow n mighty andorigina l gen ius. But tha t is a l l : had they never written , h is

works would not , probably, have been so unblemished in t he

execution, but they would infa llibly have formed an era in

li terature, and displayed very much t he same excellences tha tnow distinguish them . The instrument , of which w e havejust spoken, must not be lost sight of in appreciating the Greekmasters, and especia lly Demosthenes.

When one reads the rhetorica l works of Cicero and Dionysins, one cannot but perce ive that t he ancient languages, fromtheir complica ted and highly artificia l structure, admitted o fcerta in graces that cannot be a imed a t , to any th ing like thesame degree, by any modern composition. One of these isharmony and rhythm . The effect , w h ich a pol ished and musica l period (in the right place ) had on the ears of an Attic,and even of a Roman assembly, is sca rcely intelligible any

where but in southern Europe . But there w as immense d i ffi cul ty in avoiding a vicious ex treme in t he use of this art . I fit were not directed by the most exquisite taste and judgment ,it became very offensive

,and gave to a business Speech the

a ir of a mere panegyrica l or scholast ic declamation . Not onlyso, but nothing w as harder to avoid than the uttering of acomplete verse, and nothing w as reckoned more vicious. I n

this, as in every other respect, Demosthenes is pronounced byD ionysius a perfect model Of judgment and excellence. With



wife, by permission , but he sha ll not be capable of hold ingproperty to ma inta in her ; he may beget chi ldren, but theysha ll be bondmen born of h is ow n lord . As for the slave

, he

may be cut up to feed t he fi sh in h is ponds, and both he and

t he child, i f they commit any trespass, may be abandoned to

the arbitra ry discretion of the injured pa rty, in order to re

lease their ow ner from liabi l ity. The fate of t he poor debtorw e have just read, in tha t horrendum carmen

, as it w as w el lca l led . Th is relation (as money has been a t the bottom of

most revolutions ) gave rise to unceasing contests betw een t he

ruling cas te and the pl ebs. The patriarchs obstinately, and ,

for centuries together, successfully ma inta ined t he principle a ndpract ice of the nexus . The house of ourPa ter Roma nus is notonly h is ow n castle , it is the dungeon of enslaved debtors toi ling under the lash . L ivy

’

s w ords are quoted by Nieb uhr,whose commentary is pow erfully w ritten , and presents a frightful picture of oppression . The eloquent Roman in forms us,that men

“

adjudged according to their ‘bond’ to slavery, wereseen da ily, by t roops, dragged from the forum to their orgastuIa ; tha t the houses of the nobles w ere filled w ith debtors incha ins, and tha t w herever a pa trician dw elt , there w as a pri

vate prison .

Tow ards t he foreigner,he is a ltogether w ithout sympathy .

Stranger and enemy are the same , in h is old language. \Viththe consciousness or the inst inct s of h is h igh destin ies, he considers every means consecra ted by such an end as t he aggra n

d i z ement of Rome : and w o to those w ho stand in the w ay

of it . H e pleads, w hen made a prisoner in ba tt le , and releasedto procure a peace , tha t he mav be sent back to certa in tortureor servitude—i f he have saved an a rmy under h is command ,

by an unaut hori z ed t rea ty ,he begs to a tone for h is ofli ciousness

w ith his l i fe—he puts his son to dea th,i f he ga in a victory

a t t he expense of d iscipline—how sha l l he feel for enemies ,crea ted, predestined to become h is sl aves ? Accordingly, hedestroys without compunct ion—ravages w hole tracts of country

,sacks and burns c ities, fi l l s h is camp w i th plunder , and

sells (w here it is not more pol itic to spare and colon i z e ) intobondage, to traffi ckers w ho fol low h is bloody footsteps likevultures, a l l—man ,

w oman , and ch i ld—w hom t he sw ord ha snot cut off . The bravest and finest of h is captives sha ll one

HUGH SWINTON LEGARE 3187

day be reserved for the nameless horrors of the amphitheatre,the only pastime tha t rea lly interests him—a pastime fit for ahorde of canniba ls such as a demon of hell might invent forthe amusement of fiends.

Our Pa ter Romanus, however, does not always oppressthe poor and weak ; he sometimes, na y , frequently, servesthem from motives of policy especia lly . H is ow n client s andreta iners are under h is gua rdian ca re, of course ; it is thecondition and the rewa rd of their fea lty. But he emancipa tesh is slave readi ly, and so makes him one of his ow n gens or

lineage, bearing a pa trician name , and enti t led to a l l the privi leges of a citi z en . H e sits in the forum, upon a sort ofthrone, or wa lks up and dow n among the people, glad to givelegal advice gratis to whoever will ask for it. Even h is mostdestructive conquests are made in the spirit of civili z ation , and

d irected to perpetua l possession, regular administration, and

unity of government—and hence h is admirable colon ia l system—by which subjugated nations are adopted as h is subjects,rather than ex tirpated as enemies ; and his laws and h is lan

guage are diffused over the whole earth.

Every thing inspires him with ideas of superiori ty ; and h issel f - esteem is immense, but ca lm,

en lightened, and majestic.H e is a fata list ; but h is fa ta lism too, as a lways happens, issel f - conce i t in disguise . H e never dreams of be ing van

gh he frequently is a t t he beginningof a w ar, and hears it with perfect composure . H e has no fa ithin impulses ; he works by system, and relies on genera l lawsin every thing—in w ar especia l ly—he has “ orga ni z ed victory,

”

as they sa id of Ca rnot, and is delibera tely brave by ca lculation.

I f he will deliver up h is ow n consuls to an enemy, stripped and

pinioned for a sacrifice, wha t will he not do with their grea tmen ? H e will expose them in h is cruel triumphs to the

“rab

ble’s curse” and scoffs, and then murder them ; he will makethe title of king a jest ; they sha ll be h is vassa ls one of themsha ll put a liberty - cap upon h is shorn head, and glory in beingh is freedman another he will scourge and cruci fy like a

bond - slave.

In priva te li fe, he is grave and austere, simple, sober, industrious, pa tient of toil, ha rdship , and pa in. H is conjuga llove is none of the most rapturous, and his ma rriage is there

w


fore of t he kind ca lled good, not delicious,—yet he isperfectly satisfied w ith i t—for this w hole period of five cen

turies passes away w ithout a single change of wives. Yet he

would a lmost as willingly adopt a child as have one of h is

ow n, and does not like too many of them on any terms. H e

looks with contempt on a l l a rts, trades, and professions, whichhe abandons to h is freedmen ,

reserving to himsel f w ar an d

agriculture a lone ; but he is very fruga l . and decidedly ava r icious—though as yet his avarice takes the shape ra ther Of pa rsimony than rapacity ; but the day is coming when he sha l lbe as insatiable as the grave

, and a l ieni appetens sni profusa sw i ll be the device of h is degenera te order. He is deeply re

l igious, in h is ow n w ay ,controlled even in the weightiest ma t

ters by the most grovelling superstition—fa ithful to oa ths andto promises, made in proper form, and profoundly impressedwith reverence for the law , which he is seldom persuaded tobreak, a l though he is apt to evade it by fraudulent interpret a t ion. So, i f ever he violates the fa ith of trea ties it is bysophist ry and not by force ; Specia l plead ing is the grea t instrument of h is policy ; and he thinks the gods satisfied , i f

men are on ly argued out of thei r rights with decent plausibility .

H is w hole history shows tha t h is courage is equa lled by hisconduct, and h is strengt h by h is cunning.

In politics, he is strenuously conservative ; he adheres toestablished institutions as long as they hold together and w orkwell ; but he is not a bigot , and abandons them as soon as he

perceives that the time is rea lly come ; neither does he scrupleto adopt from h is enemies w eapons and methods which experi

ence has Show n him to be better than h is ow n . One t hing ismost remarkable in h is history ; he never seeks a trea ty, noreven comes to terms, w ith a foreigner successful in arms, andstill threa tening w ar or resist anceb he a lways does so with hisplebeian brethren ,

w ho drive h im from post to post until hefa irly opens the door of the city to them a l l . H e loves powerby the instinct of h is na ture, and for i t s ow n sake—not for thepomps and van ities tha t surround i t—th is simplicity distin

guishes him from the kings of the barbarians.

Long protected by an appea l to the people , h is person is a tlength rendered inviolable by the Port ian and Sempronian laws.

But it is not himsel f only tha t is sacred ; he consecrates t he


JAMES MATTH EW LEGARE

[ 1 823—1 859]

LUDW IG LEW I SOHN

IF the ex t ern a l fact s of t he l i fe and the persona l memorials of

James Matthew Legaré of South Carol ina w ere not , as they ap

paren t ly a re , irretrievably obscured, one could imagine some futureAmerican Ma tthew Arnold delineating h is delica t e and reti cent soulin such charm ing pages as the Engl ish cri tic devoted to Maurice orEugen ie Guérin . But w e know nex t to nothing of the persona li tyof thi s “ quiet s inger” ; the Duyck inks knew nothing ; and persona linquiries in Charleston fa i l to elici t any memory that has a specificflavor, a persona l no t e: Legaré follow ed the law , reluctan tly w e

may be sure, publ ished a s ingle sl im volume of verse : ‘

Orta - Undisand Other Poems,’ a t the age of tw enty- five, contributed sparinglyto severa l of Simms’s innumerable j ourna l istic ventures, and died,never having “

Spoken out,” in h is th irty - six th year. There rema insof h im,

then , no memoria l , save those few verses. But by virtue ofthem his place in American letters w i ll , in time, be perfectly secure .I n any study of the m inor figures of our older l iterature i t is an

un fort una t e fact tha t nega tive cri ticism must predom inate. Therew a s, so Often , t he impa ssioned effort to crea te l i t erature, but theeffort w a s nea rly a lw ays lack ing in know ledge, in restra int, and

rendered nuga tory in a di shearten ing number of ca ses by the essentia l fa l la cy of a pseudo- religious, pseudo- eth ica l didacticism. Hencei t is w i th unspeakable refreshment that one comes Upon w ork sucha s Legare

’s—w ork that has sinceri ty,tha t has cha rm

,tha t is a lw ays

right in a im and in a few instances, a t lea st, ach ieves i t s a im.

’

Only a pret ty thorough reading of L egare’s Carolin ian contemporaries can serve to revea l the ful l measure of h is d ifference fromthem. Pol i t ics eth ics, other sem i and quasi - poet ica l interests fill thei rverse . Legare stands w i th Timrod (t he tw o men seem never tohave met ) as a poet, an art i st ; and as such he felt, Of course, theimmense preoccupat ion of form , w hich further di fferentiates h imfrom the w ri ters of his pla ce and hour. The besett ing sin of a l l these(w i th t he constant ex ceptions of Timrod and Hayne ) w as utterartistic helplessness. They had a tanta l i z ing w ay of choosing as the

veh icle of thei r usual ly t hin idea s just those forms w h ich i t is mostdifli cul t to handle w i th any dist inct ion. In thei r hands such forms

31 91


genera lly degenerated into mere doggerel. I t is the surpri sing meri t

of Legaré to have used these simple lyric meters w i th firmness and

di stinction ,to have developed an occasiona l origina l ity of form , and

to have made these forms, old and new , carry adequately an obser

va tion and a spiri tua l in terpretation of nature, a lert, pa in stak ing , and

true. A fine vein of pure lyri c inspiration , w h ich not even such nu

fortunate models as Schi l ler and Longfellow could obl i tera te, runs

through h is best verse.Al l these qua l i ties—a fi rm and del ica te trea tment of Simple l yri c

forms and a quiet charm in the handl ing of subjects draw n fromnature - w i ll be fully i llustrated in t he ex tracts a t the end o f thisnote. In regard to such a poem as

“Haw - Blossoms” one may dropa t lea st the careful use of the w ord “ verse” and say Open ly tha t hereis poetry—not rich or elabora te or lofty, but unm i stakable in i ts

soft undertone of melody, in i t s accurate and restra ined vision . And

that last w ord brings one to consider another of Legaré’s most cha rm

ing tra i ts . He had the poet’s eye ; he turned an imaginative sight

upon t he simple appearances that attracted him and w as then ab leto present in brief compass pictures of na ture that take the mind a t

once w i th their delicacy and truth . And a lw ays he is severe lys imple, charming w i th a reluctant charm, pla in and clear, as in thi s

stanz a“A bird w i th scarlet on h is w ings

Dow n in the meadow si ts and sings

Benea th h is w eightThe long corn - tassels undulate.”

Or in th1s

“The solemn brotherhood of pines,L ike monks slow chanting in a choir,

Nos miserere : Cypress nunsIn sad attire.

But i t w ould be unjust to create the impression that Legaré can

not , a t t imes, strike a deeper note . Thi s he usua lly does w hen h e

a t t a ins that origina l ity of techn ique w h ich he a lone possesses Of a l l

t he m inor Carol in ian w riters of verse. Thus,his stanz a s on t h e

Ta l lulah Fa l ls a re vigorous and imagina tive ; so are the verses “To

Anne” ° but more especia lly the poem “Flow ers in Ashes.” Here

L egare s techn ique seems a lmost modern , and in such l ines as

Betw een the arches dimly in the early daw n described,”

I saw a sha llop i ssue from the shadow Of the shore,



And I too, walking through t he wasteAnd wintry hours of t he past,Have in the furrow s made by griefsThe seeds of future harvests cast.

Rewarded well, i f when the w orldGrows dimmer in the ebbing light,

And a l l the va lley lies in shade ,But sunset glimmers on t he height.

Down in the meadows of the heartThe birds sing out a last re fra in,

And ready garnered for t he ma rtI see t he ripe and golden gra in.

TO A L ILY

Go bow thy head in gentle spite,Thou li ly white,For she who Sp ies thee waving here,With thee in beauty can compareAs day w ith n ight .

Soft are thy leaves and white : H er a rmsBoast w hiter charms.

Thy stem prone bent with lovelinessO f ma iden grace possesseth lessTherein she cha rms.

Thou in thy lake dost seeThysel f : So she

Beholds her image in her eyesReflected . Thus did Venus riseFrom out the sea .

Inconsolate, bloom not aga inThou riva l va inOf her whose charms have thine outdoneWhose purity might spot the sun ,

And make thy lea f a sta in.

JAMES MATTHEW LEGARE

TALLULAH!

Recol lect thou,in thunder

How Ta llulah spoke to thee ,When thy little face with wonderL i fted upwa rds, rocks asunderR iven

,shattered,

Black and battered,Thou aloft d idst see ?

Downward sta lking through TEMPESTA

D id a giant shape appear.Al l the wa ters leaping a fterHound - like, with thei r thunder- laughterShook the valleyTeoca lli ,Hill - top bleak and bare.

Vast and ponderous, of granite,Cloud enwrapt h is features were.

I n h is grea t ca lm eyes emotionGlimmered none ; and like an oceanBillowy, tangled,Foam bespangledBackward streamed his ha i r.

On his brow like dandelionsNodded pines : the solid floorRocked and reeled beneath h is treading,Black on high a tempest spreading,Pregnan t, passive,As with massivePortal, closed the corridor.

Frighted, sobbing, clinging to meIn an agony of dread,Sawest thou this form tremendousStriding down the steep stupendous

“A wat erfall in North Georgia , raging down granite st eps of a barrm a nearly a

t housand feet deep.

3l %

Then my hea rt d issembl ing courage,Tha t t h ine ow n so loudly bea t .

Com fort thee , I sa i d. poor tremblerProvidence is no d issembler.

Higher pow erGua rds & ch flow erB looming a t t hy feet .

Flushed and tea rful from my bosomThem t thou d idst li ft thy face.

Blue and w ide thy eyes resplendent ,

Turned upon the phantom pendent ,Whose huge shadowOvershadowed

Back revolving into granite,Foam and fa l l and nodding pine,Sank t he phantom. Slantwise drivenThrough the storm - c loud rent and riven,Sunshine glitteredAnd there twitteredBirds in every vine.

Then sonorous from the chasmPea led a voice distinct and loud“ Innocence and God - relianceSet a l l evil a t defiance.

Ma iden , by these,(As by snow, trees, )Evil heads are bowed.



TO ANNE

D isconsolate and ill at easeThe heart that is, a future sees

Affording naught to cheer or please.

But she tha t owns a quiet mindTo good or evil fate resigned,N0great unhappiness can fi nd

In any lot . A child in years,Already have ma turer caresOppressed thee, and thy eyes to tea rs

No strangers are. Fa ir,fresh, and young,

Thrice bitterly thy heart w as wrung.

For what had they to do with thee,In thy spring days, despondency,Or any woful mysteries?

Yet when thy eyes w ere no more blindWith weeping, sel f - possessed, resigned,Preéminent a rose thy mind .

And resolute in doing well ,D idst henceforth teach thy breast to swellWith naught that ma iden w ill could quel l.

Thou sawest how man breathes a dayBe fore re - mingling with his clayHow feeble in Almighty kenThe most omnipotent of menAppea rs : And how the longest li feI s one short struggle in the stri fe

That rocks t he world from age to age.

What worthy hand may write the pageWhose Alex andrine words unbindThy upwa rdly direct ed mind ?

3199

shore.

With practised ease t he boatman stood,And dipped his paddle in the floodAnd so t he open space w as ga ined, and left behind the wood.

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

The dripping blade, with measured stroke,I n ripples soft t he surface brokeAs once Apollo, kissing oft, the nymph Cyrene w oke.

And fast pursuing in h is wake,I hea rd the dimpling eddies breakIn murmurs faint, as i f they sa id—Herefrom example t ake .

Unruffled as this river, liesThe stream of li fe to youthful eyesOn either bank a wood and ma rt, and overhead God

’s

Behind the slopes the pleasant shore,The tumult of the town before,And thou, who standest in the stern, hast in thy hand an oa r.

Oh son of toil, whose poet’s heart

Grieves from thy quiet woods to pa rt,And yet whose birt hright high it is, to labor in the mart .

To thee, a child, the bloom w as sweet ;But manhood loves the crow ded street

,

And where in closes, loud and clea r, the forging hammers bea t .

But even there may bloom for theeThe blossoms childhood loved to see ;

And in the cinders of thy toil, God’s fa irest flowers be.

HAW - BLOSSOMS

While yestereven ing, through t he va leDescending from my cottage doorI strayed , how cool and fresh a lookAl l nature wore.

The ca lmias and golden - rods,And tender blossoms of t he haw ,

L ike ma idens seated in t he w oods,Demure, I saw .



In clusters pa le and delica teBut waxing heavier each day ,

Until the many - colored leavesD ri ft from t he spray.

Then pendulous, like amethystsAnd rubies, purple, ripe and red,Wherew ith God’s feathered pensionersIn flocks are fed .

Therefore, sweet reader of this rhyme,Be unto thee ex amples high

Not ca lmi as and golden - rodsThat scentless die :

But the meek blossoms of the haw ,

That fragrant are wherever windThe forest paths, and perishingLeave fruits behind .

AHAB- MAHOMMED

A peasant stood before a king and sa id,“My children starve , I come to thee for bread .

On cushions soft and si lken sa t enthronedThe king, and looked on h im that prayed and moaned .

Who cried aga in for bread I come to thee .

”

For grief , like w ine, the tongue will render free.

Then sa id t he prince w ith simple truth,“ Behold

I si t on cushions silken - soft , of goldAnd w rought w ith skill t he vessels w hich they bringTo fi t ly grace t he banquet of a king.

But a t my gate the Mede triumphant beats,And die for food my people in t he streets.

Yet no good father hea rs h is child compla inAnd gives him stones for bread, for a lms disda in.

Come, thou and I w i ll sup together—come .

The wondering courtiers saw—saw , and were dumbThen followed with their eyes w here Ahab ledWith grace the humble guest, ama z ed, to share h is bread .

JAMES MATTHEW LEGARE 3203

Him ha l f - abashed t he roya l,host withdrew

Into a room, the curta ined doorway through.

Silent behind the folds of purple closed,In ma rble li fe t he statues stood disposedFrom the high ceiling, perfume brea thing, hungLamps ri ch, pomegrana te - shaped, and golden - swung.

Gorgeous the board with massive meta l shone,Gorgeous with gems a rose in front a throne :These through the Orient lattice saw the sun .

I f gold there w as, of mea t and bread w as noneSave one sma ll loa f ; this stretched his hand and tookAhab - Mahommed, prayed to God , and brokeOne ha l f his yearning nature bid him craveThe other gladly to his guest he gave.

I have no more to give—he cheerly sa id ;With thee I share my onl y loa f of bread.

Humbly the stranger took the offered crumbYet a t e not of it, standing meek and dumbThen li fts his eyes—t he wondering Ahab saw

H is rags fa ll from him as t he snow in thaw .

Resplendent, blue, those orbs upon him turnedAl l Ahab’s soul within him throbbed and burned.

Ahab - Mahommed, spoke the vision then ;From this thou sha lt be blessed among men .

Go forth—thy gates the Mede bewildered flees,And Allah thank thy people on their knees.

He w ho gives somewhat does a worthy deed,Of him the recording angel sha ll take heed .

But he that ha lves a l l tha t his house doth hold,His deeds are more to God, yea more than finest



gave him a t once a reputation throughout the Sta te . He rema ined

in Petersburg ti ll 1 8 1 5 , a t w hich time he removed to R ichmond,w here he spent the rest Of h is l i fe. By 1 8 1 9 h is posi tion a t the Ba r

w as so w ell recogn i z ed tha t he w as selected to compi le the Code of

Virgin ia. For such w ork he w as admirably fitted, for he w a s a thorough ma ster of deta i l. Accuracy w as the habi t of hi s mind, and thereadiness for w h i ch he became noted, w hether the ca l l came in the

court room,in

.

commi ttee or on the floor Of t he Un i ted States Sena te ,w as due to t he fact tha t he made i t his a im to ma ster every sub

jcet he touched. He l ived in the day w hen the l aw w as a sci en ceand not a trade, and the study of the l aw w as the passion of h i sl i fe. Tha t he m ight fi nd i llustrations of i t s principles, and the sourceOf i t s beginn ings, he studied the w orks Of the Roman jurists . LikeGeorge Ma son , w hose memory he ever held in reverence as the

w isest of Americans, he recogn i z ed the va lue of the w orks of thegreat Greek historians, for in them w ere the records of phi losophytranslated into l i fe. He studied t he French and Engli sh mastersOf fiction and the drama ; but the l aw w as t he j ea lous mistress Of

h is a ffections. To her he brought a l l t he rich gleanings Of an ex

cursive mind. One w hose reputa tion as a law yer enti tl ed h is Opin ionto respect declared tha t t he highest court Of the Sta te profited byLeigh’s presence there, and tha t from the Bar he taught the Bench.

Tha t he m ight be ma ster of the Engl i sh Speech he studied Hooker,Sherlock, and Ti llotson. The s i lvery notes of Jeremy Taylor’sEngli sh charmed h im l ike the song of some forest Singer. In the

early years of his practice he w as under the influence Of Burke,w hose resonant notes and rolling periods w ere for a long time t heconscious model Of h is ow n publ ic utterance. Ever the stern cri ticof h imsel f, he felt tha t the interests of his cl ients must take precedence over every other considera tion . H is speech must make for ef

fi ciency . Jeremy Taylor had taught h im the charm of graceful utterance.‘ The organ tones Of Burke w ere his to command, but charm and

grandeur w ere a ch i evements of w hi ch he h imsel f reaped the rew ardsin the admira tion of his l isteners. He del ibera tely held these h ighpow ers of the Speaker m abeyance, and determ ined to qua l i fy h imsel ffor a form of utterance that w ould carry conviction to the l i stener. He

found t he instrument he sought in stra ight Sax on Speech ; and not

as a ca sua l reader, but as a z ea lous and di scern ing pup i l , he stud iedunder D ean Sw i ft ti ll he w as himsel f master of t he fence Of w ords.The stra ight and tempered blade Of Sax on Speech became the w eaponOf his choice, and i t s cut and thrust left him v ictor on many a hard

fought field.

But i f the l aw w as h is m istress, Virgin ia w as h is sovereign .

Sprung Of a caval ier stock, loya lty to a sovereign li ege w as in

BENJAMIN WATKINS LEIGH 3207

w rought into his very being. H is ancestors had given to Engl i shk ings unquestion ing a llegiance ti ll a king himsel f had broken the

bond of tha t a llegi ance by demanding a servi ce no freemanx could

give. H is father had served the Church w i th w i se and loya l fidel i ty,but the Church had been caught and crushed under t he w heels Ofchange, and a llegiance to her w as hardly more than loya lty to a

gracious memory. But loya lty is the habi t Of the heart in the highestna tures, and must find express ion. Wi th Le igh , w i th John Randolph,and w i th a host of their contemporaries thi s loya lty found expressionin a passionate devotion to Virgin ia . NO service w as too grea t, nopra ise too h igh for the sovere ign of their love. They w ere bl ind toher faults or forgave them, as the cava l ier forgave the faults and

foibles of h is Prince.From 1 776 to 1 829 Virgin ia had l ived under a consti tution fur

n ished her in large pa rt by Mason . Th i s consti tution w as the firstw ri tten const itution of a free people in the history of t he w orld. I t

w as admirably su i ted to the cond ition and Sp iri t Of the people forw hom i t w as w ri tten ; but t he lapse Of fifty years had seen a grea tdevelopment of the w estern port ion of t he Sta te. Here the conditions of l i fe and society w ere w idely di fferent from those in Ea sternV irgin ia . The East w as w ea l thy, and the manua l labor w as largelydone by slaves. In the West property va lues w ere sma ll, and the

laboring class w ere, for the most part, w hite. The great fight int he Virgin ia Convention of 1 829-

’

3o, ca lled to prepare a new constitut ion

,w as on the West’s demand for a new ba s is of representa tion

and of tax at ion . I t w as a grea t gathering of grea t minds. Madison,

Marsha ll , Monroe, and John Randolph w ere among i ts members ; butby un iversa l consent of Opin ion Benj amin Wa tkins L e igh, w ho stoodforw ard a s the advocate of property rights and as the Opponen t ofthe ph i losophy of numbers and the theory tha t fighting men a lonemake a sta te, dom ina ted tha t a ssembly.He struggled aga inst the t ide Of those fierce democratic passions

tha t flooded the land for three qua rters of a century a fter the Revolut ion . He sna tched a part ia l victory even from the conqueringhour, and now tha t the t ide has turned, the student of governmenta lpol icy w i ll find the cha rt a lready prepared for him ; for Le igh’stheory of government is compact, sane, and thorough ly consistent.Leigh l ived for tw enty years a fter thi s convention . He filled h igh

posi tions of trust and influence, but the reports of t he Convent ion of1 829

-

’

3o furn ish a lmost the sole records of his eloquence and h i s

pol it ica l ph i losophy. H e represented Virgin ia before t he Ken tuckyLegislature in the bi tter controversy over the ti tle to land grants inKentucky. He w as the Sta te’s amba ssador to South Carol ina in the

peri lous days Of nul l ifica t ion ; and the Legi sla ture of that Sta te de


cl a red that he had ex ecuted his del icate mission w ith abi l i ty , t a per,

and a ffection. He w as chosen Un i ted States Sena tor, and actua tedby high sense Of duty he p i tted h imsel f aga inst Andrew Jackson ;but his poli ti ca l career w as broken aga inst the irresistible pow er Of

Jackson’s populari ty w i th the people.

Leigh had argued publicly for the right Of the Legisla ture to instruct i t s representa tive in the Un ited Sta tes Sena te ; but w hen he

w as instructed to vote for Benton’s Ex punging Resolutions he t e

fused, declaring tha t no man but a fool w ould Obey an order to

v iolate every d icta te Of san i ty, and none but a crimina l w ould obeyan order to commi t an actua l w rong. He ma inta ined h is independen cea t the cost of favor w i th the people .

He died February 2, 1 849. He w as a Virginian in tns at in cut e,

a fearless advoca te of w ha t he held to be true, and a blamel essgentleman.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Li fe and Publ ic Services of B. W. Le igh . By W. H . Macfarland.

Conven tion of 1 829-

’

3o. By H . B . Grigsby.

Sketches of Convention of 1 829-

’

3o. By H . R . Pleasants.Benj amin W. L eigh. By E . J . Smi th (Randolph - Macon Histori ca l

Papers,Seven Decades Of the Un ion . By Henry A. W ise.

The Tylers and the ir Kin . By L . G. Tyler.

Journa l of the Virgin ia Convention of 1 829—’3o.



or, the Senate may , without the concurrence of the President,

remove the ofli cer—expunge him from ofli ce . I f, on the con

t rary , in spite of our expunging t he confirma tion of his ap

pointment from our journal , he w ould still be entitled to h isOffi ce, then our act of expunging the entry of confirmationis unauthori z ed and void . But the consequences are yet moregla ring and enormous when w e come to consider t he possibleapplication of this expunging process to the journa l of ourjudicia l proceedings. A man is impeached before t he Sena teof high crimes and misdemeanors, tried and convicted, and sentence of incapacit ation for public offi ce solemnly pronouncedupon him ; the court is dissolved : the Sena te, a fterwards, becoming convinced of the injustice of the judgment and sen

tence orders the entry of them to be expunged from the journa l.I f the Sena te is rea lly competent to inva lidate the judgment byexpunging it , his sentence is in effect reversed, and his incapaci t y removed ; and, a t any rate, i f he sha ll be elected a member of the Sena te while the. cxpunging Senate is in power, hewill be permitted to take his sea t there. But suppose the ac

cused acquitted, and the Senate, a t a future day , honestlyimputing the acquitta l to partia l ity or corruption in the Sena tethat tried h is cause , should order t he judgment of acquitta lto be expunged from t he journa l , and then a new prosecutionShould be commenced aga inst him on t he same cha rges ; howcould he have the benefit of that inestimable principle of just ice so dear to the people of this land, that no man sha ll betwice brought in jeopardy for the same offence ? how couldhe plead h is former acquittal , and Show the record Of the fact ?I f the judgment should have been litera lly ex punged from the

journa l, it would be impossible for him to make good h is defence . And i f it should have been typical ly ex punged , and t herecord should be produced , with t he black lines drawn aroundit as the gentleman from Missouri says,

“black as

the and with the avenging” sentence of expunction written across it , h is doom,

I apprehend, would be equa llycerta in i f it should be his ha rd fate to be arra igned be fore t hesame Senate tha t had thus ex punged the former judgment ofacquitta l . Aga in I implore gentlemen to forbea r. I pray Godto put it in thei r hearts to pause, to reflect upon the conse

quences involved in the principle they are ma inta in ing, and to

BENJAMIN WATKINS LE IGH 321 1

spare our country t he establishment of a precedent that maybe a lleged herea fter as an example and authority for wrongsl ike these.

But , to a l l appea ls and a l l a rguments of this kind , my colleague has one genera l, compendious, a l l - suffi cing answer : tha tit is not fa ir to argue, from t he possible abuses of a power,aga inst the existence of t he power. D id he not perceive thatthat rema rk, as he applies it, would equal ly serve as an answerto a l l objections to an assumption of any power whatever,whi ch should be dangerous in itsel f

, as well as unconstitut iona l ?Or does he think that an unconst itutiona l power is less liableto abuse than a constitutiona l one ? Sir, the argument I amurgi ng aga inst t he proposition he has ma inta ined is, tha t itinvolves other principles pla in ly unconstitutiona l ; and I Showt he appl ica tion of which it is susceptible to other uses of thesame kind, in order to expose the inherent vice of the propositiou itsel f. I have not been a rguing from the abuses of thisexpunging process, but from t he uses w hich the principle, i fconstitutiona l and just, would as well justi fy as the use towhich it is now proposed to apply it . And no one, I shouldthink, ought to be more sensible than my honorable colleagueof t he extent to which the authority of precedents may bestra ined ; for he has given us a notable example of it himsel f,in t he applica tion he has made to his present purpose of thetwo instances of expunging tha t have been found in the proceedings of the Senate .

As to one of them, I have on ly to state it . Mr. Randolph,having received informa tion of t he death of Mr. Pinkney,announced it as a fact to the Senate ; and the Senate, to test i fy i ts respect for the memory of a man who had once beenso distinguished a member of i t s ow n body, immedia tely ad

journed—expressing, of course, the reason of the adjournment, which w as entered by t he Secretary on his minutes. Itturned out , however, tha t Mr. Pinkney w as not yet dead and,

t he next morn ing, when the journa l w as read, according to t herule,

“

to the end tha t any mistake might be corrected tha t hadbeen made in the entries, the Sena te ordered the entry sta tingthe fact of Mr. Pinkney

’s death to be expunged from t he

journa l . This w as not , indeed, as my colleague says, a correction of a mistake of the Secretary in making the entry ; but


it w as a correction of a mistake, in point of fact, into whichMr. Randolph had fa llen, and had misled the Senate. W het h

er the correction w as strictly within t he rule of the Sena teas to correcting mistaken entries in i t s journa l, no one thoughtOf inquiring a t t he time, and I Sha ll not now stop to inqui ret he correction w as intended to be made in con formity withtha t rule of the Sena te, for making up the journa l, whi ch t heconstitution requires t he Senate to keep .

The other instance of expunging by the Senate is hardlymore important in itsel f, but it ca lls for a more pa rticula rconsideration . On the z l st of April, 1 806, being the verylast day of the session, i t appea rs, by t he rough minutes, takena t the table , that Mr. Adams presented tw o petitions of S . G .

Ogden and W . Smith , and the first entry on t he minutes inrespect to them is

,

“

read, and to l ie then,

“motions be re

jected ; then, the words be rejected struck out with a pen, and,instead of them,

“ leave to withdraw” inserted . After this,there is an entry more in deta il—that Mr. Adams commun icat ed two memoria ls from S . G . Ogden and W. S . Smith ,stating tha t they are under a crimina l prosecution for certa inproceedings, into wh ich they were led by the circumstances tha tthei r purpose w as fully known to and approved by t he ex ecu

tive Government of the Un ited States,”

(the prosecution , w e

know ,w as for the pa rt the memoria l ists had taken in Mi

randa’s expedition , ) complai n ing of such ma ltreatment by t hed istrict judge of the Un ited Sta tes a t New York, that t hegrand jury had made a presentment aga inst the judge for it ,and praying relie f from Congress ; and then the entry is, on

motion ,ordered , tha t the memoria l ists have leave to w ithdraw

thei r memoria ls, respectively.

”Fina lly, t he last minute of t he

proceed ings of this last day of the session w as,“

on motiontha t every th ing in the journal relat ive to the memoria ls o fS . G . Ogden and W . S . Smith be expunged therefrom,

it passedin the afl‘i rma t ive, by yeas and nays, 1 3 to The adjoiningorder follow s immed iately. It has been sa id tha t a l l the republ icans voted for, and t he federa lists aga inst, t he motion. How

tha t is, I do not know . Now , the first remark that occurs is,tha t th is is man i festly an expunction from the minutes, not

from the journa l ; an order that , in making up the journa l , thoseentries on the minutes should not be inserted. The next con



most popula r Chief Magistrates tha t precedents dangerous toliberty are most to be apprehended, most to be deprecated, andmost ca reful ly to be avoided ; not on account of any design on

the ir pa rt, or of vicious design in any quarter, but simplybecause confidence in them not only serves to give authorityto their ex ample, but disarms the public mind of that wholesome jea lousy, tha t constant vigilance, which (as Mr. Jefferson has himsel f justly sa id ) is the eterna l price that men must

pay for l iberty. T0 do Mr. Jefferson justice , it must be re

marked tha t there is not the least reason to believe tha t heapproved, or even knew , of tha t expunging order of the Sena t e in April, 1 806, much more counselled or wished it . W hether t he present Chief Magistra te has taken any pa ins, or ex

pressed any wish, for t he accompl ishment of the expunctionnow proposed, I do not know ; though I could give a shrewdguess.

a: a: a: a: a: i t

Well w as it sa id the other day by the gentleman from SouthCa rolina (Mr. Ca lhoun ) tha t precedents appa rently trivi a l areoften of the utmost importance, because they may be applied ,stretched , or perverted, to cases never apprehended or foreseen ; and tha t precedents affecting constitutiona l questions arerarely resorted to as authority for the ex ercise of any but

doubtful pow ers, for the pla in reason tha t the authority o fprecedents is never necessa ry , un less the pow er they are w antedto susta in is doubtful . Witness the use now made of the tw oprecedents of expunging, found in the proceed ings of theSenate ! Sir, w e Sha ll fi nd it an eterna l truth, tha t

“ there isno other course to be taken in a settled sta te, than a steadyconstant resolution never to give w ay so far as to make t heleast breach in t he constitution ,

through w hich a million o fabuses and encroachments w ill certa in ly in time force the i rw ay .

” I quote the w ords of Sw i ft , a monarchist and tory tobe sure , yet they are the w ords of politica l prudence and w is

dom ; they imbody the lessons and the w arn ings of experience ,which t he republicans of this country w ill do w ell to hea rkento and remember.And now , sir, I think mysel f w ell w arranted in saying

,

that the expunging of the resolution of t he Sena te of the 28t h

of March, 1 834, from the journa l, litera lly or figuratively, i s

BENJAMIN WATKINS LEIGH 321 5

wholly irreconcilable with the constitution , upon any fa ir construction of i t s w ords ; and that no authori ty for such expunction can be found in any precedent whatever, a t a l l applicableto the purpose or entitled to t he least w eight . I think mysel fw a rranted in saying, too, that i f the Senate Sha ll adopt thisproposition , and ca rry it into ex ecution , it w ill set a precedentfraught w i th the most dangerous and pernicious consequences.

REPRESENTATION AND TA! ATION

Delivered a t t he Vi rgin ia S t a t e Conven t ion November 3, 1 829. From ‘Proceedingsand D eba t es of t he V irgin ia Sta t e Conven t ion .

’

GENTLEMEN from the West have exhorted us to disca rda l l care for loca l interests—they tell us, tha t, i f they knowtheir ow n hea rts, thei r opin ions and course are not influencedby any such pa ltry considerations. Without doubting the Sin

ceri ty of these professions, I doubt w hether they do knowthei r ow n hea rts—w ithout impiously setting up mysel f for asearcher of hearts, I doubt w hether they have searched theirhearts w ith sufl‘i cien t scrutiny—nay , w hether any scrutinyw ould have been successful . It is a d ivine truth, tha t the heartof man is treacherous to itsel f , and deceitful above a l l things .

This w e know w ith certa inty, but t he Op inions of the w estern

delega tion , on this question ,con form ex actly w ith the inter

ests of the ir constituents—they are perfectly unan imous—no

d ivision among them—none a t a l l . And there is the greatcounty of Loudoun—W hy (as Louis ! IV . sa id to h is grandson , when he depa rted to mount t he Throne of Spa in )—w hyare there no longer any Pyrenees —Why is the Blue R idgelevelled from the Potomac to Ashby’s Gap , though it sw ellsaga in to Alpine heights, as it proceeds thence southw a rd, tod ivide Fauquier from Frederick ? This miracle has not beenw orked by turnp ik ing t he roads. Look a t the census, and oh

serve tha t the w hite population of Loudoun is three - fold tha tof t he black ; look a t the Aud itor

’s reports, and mark the fact,

tha t Loudoun pays not ha l f as much t ax ,as some of the poorer

Slave - holding planting counties ; consider her common interestw ith a l l the upper Northern Neck in interna l improvement, andtheir common opin ions concern ing Sta te R ights : and then, i f


I mistake not , the question will be very easy of solution. The

votes from t he Orange, the Albemarle, the Campbell, the Pittsylvan ia , and the Norfolk districts, w hich (I know not why

, )are a l l counted on as securely, as i f they w ere a lready given ;these are, indeed , disinterested , and can only be attributed tomagnan imity. I presume not to enqui re into the motives ofgentlemen,

much less to censure their conduct . I admire, butI cannot imita te their ex ample . I have regard , especia l regard ,to t he loca l interests of my constituents. They sent me herefor t he very purpose, tha t I might w a tch over them, gua rd,defend , and secure them,

to the uttermost of my pow er. And ,

i f I Should d isregard them, either through design or indolence—i f I w ere even to profess to have no regard to them—i t werebetter for me, tha t I had never been born—the contempt o fsome, and the hate of others, w ould pursue me through li feand i f I Should fly for refuge to the remotest corners of t heearth, conscience w ould st i l l follow me with her whip of seorpions, and lash me to the grave .

Sir, I afli rm w ith the gentleman from Hanover (Mr. Morris ) that the contest w e are now engaged in ,

though not the

same in i t s circumstances w ith tha t betw een our ancestors a ndGreat Brita in,

is simi la r I n princip le . I have hea rd,and w on

dered to hea r, many persons ta lk“ of our having cast off t he

yoke of British slavery.

”The French min ister

, Genet , onceda red to address Genera l Washington in that same stra in ; a ndhe began h is answ er w ith those memorable w ords,—“

Born i n

a l and of freedom .

”Our fathers had no yoke of Slavery to

cast off—their merit and their glory consisted in resisting t hevery first a ttempt made to impose one . None but freemenw ould have perce ived t he danger ; none but freemen w ouldhave spurned the yoke t he moment they saw it prepared fo rthem, and be fore they fe l t i t s w eight . The humblest Slave ,

the basest felon ,t he very beasts, w i l l , w hen they can ,

cast offa yoke tha t ga lls them . At the peace of 1 763, t he Colon iesw ere w a rmly attached to England ; nor had George III . a moreloya l subject in h is dominions, than George Wash ington . The

quarrel origina ted in the attempt of the British Pa rliament t ot ax us ; and a l l the grievances w e a fterw ards compla ined o f ,were but t he effects of our determination not to submit to thetaxes it sought to impose, and of the efforts of Grea t Brita in



a pepper- corn from us, voting millions of thei r ow n ; ourbrethren of t he w est only ask pow er to take three dolla rs of

our money for every dollar they contribute of theirs. Let a

fa ir compa rison be made, and then determine w h ich cla im is

the more reasonable , or the more abhorrent from justice, sa fet y , and liberty. Our fathers stood justified before t he na tionsand be fore high H eaven too, in resisting the pretensions of

Grea t Brita in, by a l l the means that God and nature put'

in totheir hands.

And now ,Sir, let me be d ist inctly understood . Atta ch

ment to this, my native Sta te, to every foot of her soil , toevery interest of a l l her citi z ens, has been my ruling passionfrom my youth—so strong, tha t it is now (w ha t a l l a ttachments to be use ful to i t s objects, must be ) a prejud ice—Ihardly recol lect the reasons on w hich i t w as founded . None

tha t know me, w i ll doubt this. I foresaw, I foretold, th is

fearful , distracting conflict . I looked to it w ith terror fromt he first , and I look to i t s consequences w ith horror now . Ihave trembled—I have burned . I ra ised my Cassandra voice ,to w arn and to deprecate—i i I had t he strength to make i theard , I w anted w eight of character to make it heeded . Neve rti l l then had I fel t the w an t of pol itica l influence, or lamentedthat I had d isda ined the ordina ry methods of acquiring it inmy ea rl ier yea rs, though probably no efforts w ould have beensuccessful . My feelings, my reason ,

my prejudices, my principles, a l l assure me , tha t the dismemberment of the Sta temust be fraught w ith cruel evils to us of the east and st i llmore cruel evi ls t o our brethren of the w est . Y et , Sir—a n d

t he blood curdles in my veins w h ile I make the avow a l—Isha ll avow , that the preservat ion of the Commonw ea lth in i t sintegrity, is only the second w ish of my hea rt : the first i s ,that i t may be preserved ent ire under a fa ir, equa l , reg ular , republican Government, founded in the grea t interests t ha t a recommon to us a l l , and on a just bal ance of those interestst hat are confl icting.

Sir, t he resolution reported by the L egislative Committee ,

in effect , proposes to divorce pow er from property—to ba serepresentation on numbers a lone, though numbers do not

quadra te w ith property—though mount a ins rise betw een them—to transfer,in the course of a very few years, the weight of

BENJAMIN WATKINS LEIGH 3219

pow er over t axation and property to the w est, though it beadmitted , on a l l hands that the far greater mass of propertyis now , and must still be held in the east . Power and propertymay be separated for a time, by force or fraud—but divorced,never. For, so soon as the pang of separation is felt—i f therebe truth in history

,i f there be any certa inty in the experience

of ages, i f a l l pretensions to know ledge of the human heartbe not van ity and folly—property will purchase power, orpower w ill take property. And either w ay there must be an

end of free government . I f property buy power, the veryprocess is corruption . I f pow er ravish property, the Swordmust be draw n—so essentia l is property to the very being ofcivili z ed society

,and so certa in tha t civili z ed man w ill never

consent to return to a savage state . Corruption and violencea like termina te in milita ry despotism. Al l the Republics inthe world have died this death . In the pursuit of w ild impract icable liberty, the people have first become d isgustedw ith a l l regula r Government , then violated t he securi ty of

property w hich regula r Government a lone can defend, and

been glad a t last to fi nd a master . L icense is not liberty, butthe bane of liberty. There is a book—but the author w as a

tory, an English tory, and he wrote before the AmericanRevolution

, so that I am a lmost a fra id to refer to i t—yetI w ill—there is an Essay of Swift on the dissent ions of Athens and Rome, in w hich the dow n fa ll of those Republics, isclearly traced to the same fata l error of placing power overproperty in different hands from those that held the property . The manner of doing the mischie f there, w as the vesting of a l l the pow er of judicature in the people ; but no ma tt er how the manner may be varied, the principle is the same.

There has been no change in the natura l feelings, passions, andappet ites of men , any more than in their outward form, fromthe days of Solon to those of George Washington . L ike politica l or mora l causes put in action ,

have ever produced, and

must forever produce, every where, like effects—in Athens,in Rome, in France, in America .



She Spoke three languages, and w as Often sent for to translate foreign dispa tches in her fa ther

’s Offi ce.” When La Fayette t e- visi ted

America , Mrs. George Wa lton, too infirm to grant h im the interviewhe desired w i th her, sent l ittle Octavia to represent her. She sa t

upon the grea t man’s knee and conversed in pure and fluent French ,

to his ex treme del ight.Colonel Wa lton w as at th is time residen t in Pensacola , w here h e

w as Territoria l Secretary and Acting Governor under Genera l Jackson . Here, as Octavia grew to w omanhood, her natura l taste forsocia l l i fe w as fostered by finding hersel f the adm ired center of a

cosmopol i tan circle of nava l Ofli cers, w hose sh ips ha i led from a l l overthe w orld. An early and devoted friend w as t he Old Sem inole Ch i e fw ho ca lled her the “Wh ite dove of peace,” and w ho w as del ightedw hen she chri stened t he new capita l “Ta llaha ssee,” w h ich, being int erpreted, means in Seminole “Beauti ful Land.

”

In 1 833 w hen she w as about tw enty- three years of age, hersocia l hori z on w as w idened by a tour of the Un i ted Sta tes, w here ,in ci ty or a t w a tering-

place, she rece ived equa l ovat ion and fa irl yearned the title everyw here enthusiastica lly accorded her of “

th e

belle of the Un ion.

” Pol i tics interested her no less than society. On

a vi si t to Wash ington the charm ing M iss Wa lton w ould si t each da yin the ga l lery l i sten ing brea thlessly to the impa ssioned Speeches of

such deba ters a s Clay, Ca lhoun , and Webster, and tak ing notes i nher journa l w ith such accuracy that each of these men w a s glad t o

refresh h is memory of his ow n utterances from i t s pages.In 1 835 Colonel Wa lton moved to Mobi le, w here he Spent th e

rest of his l i fe . I n Mobi le, then , t he“ belle of t he Un ion ,

” her laure lsfresh upon her brow , met, w h i le nursing t he s ick in t he poor quarte rof the ci ty, a handsome young surgeon of di st ingu i shed birth , t o

w hom she w as marri ed in 1 836.

Dr. Henry Strachey Le Vert w as the son of Dr. Claude Le Vert ,w ho came to America w ith La Fayette and, as fleet surgeon to Rochambeau, w as a t the battle Of Yorktow n . Rema in ing in America , h ema rried ,

in V irgin ia , M iss Metca l f, a n iece of tha t Adm ira l Vernonunder w hom Law rence Wash ingt on served a t the ba ttle of Cart hagena and in w hose honor he later named Mount Vernon . Afte rDr. Le Vert’s dea th his w idow , w i th tw o sons, moved from Virgin i ato Alabama .

Some one has sa id of Madame Le Vert that “ her remarkab leexperi ence w as to w ear the crow n of beauty and gen ius w ithout athorn and there could be no more striking proof of th i s determ inedfavor1 t 1 sm of fortune tow ard her than that a w oman of her pa rt icul ar ta lents, temperament, and charm , should have chanced upon

SO idea l ly suitable a husband as Dr. Le Vert proved to be. The ir

OCTAVIA WALTON LE VERT 3223

l i fe together w as one of mutua l devot ion and perfect accord. Freeto an unusua l degree of j ea lousy, e i ther individua l or genera l, Dr.

Le Vert Shared in the social pleasures of hi s w i fe, rejoicing in hertriumphs and a fford ing her every Opportun ity for their enhancement. The nearest approach to a sa lon w h ich America has know nw as a fforded by Madame Le Vert’s “Mondays.” On these daysduring t he sea son , her large and elegant home on Government Streetw as crow ded from eleven in t he morn ing un ti l eleven a t n ight, w i thnot only the él ite of Mobi le and of t he South, but the elect Of everycl ime . Among t he many di st ingu i shed persons w ho del ighted in

the hosp ita l ity of Madame Le Vert w a s Lady Emeline Stuart Wortley

, daughter of the Duke of Rutland.

In 1 853 Madame Le Vert , accompan ied by her father, her youngdaughter Octavia , and her fa ith ful colored servant, Betsey, vi si tedEngland, w here d istingu i shed friends a t court secured for her entréeto the most ex clusive circles. The Queen sent to Madame Le Vert,by roya l messenger, a card to a sta te ba ll w i thout the forma l i ty of aprevious presenta tion . SO unusua l an honor w as an

“Open sesame,”

w hich the fa ir Octavia so w ell improved, that she soon became the“ toa st of t he tow n .

”

Madame Le Vert a second time crossed the ocean, going by w ay

of Cuba , and th is time vi si ting only the Continent . Her travel ingcompan ions w ere Octav ia and Dr. Le Vert (w hom She stylesTh is journey w as undertaken tha t they m ight a ttend the great exposi tiou in Pari s, to w h ich Madame Le Vert w ent as an offi cia lly ac

credited representa t ive from Alabama .

I t is doubtful i f anyone in the Sta te besides th is remarkably acuteand far- seeing w oman w as a l ive a t tha t early date to the sign ificanceof such interna t ional rela tions. “When the products of Alabamaare a sked for,

” says she,“ I can but point to Octav ia .

” On th isj ourney w ere met such interest ing people a s the Brow n ings, NapoleonI I I and the Empress Eugen i e, the Countess de Monti jo, the Countand Countess of Alba , Pope Pius I ! , w i th w hom the party had priva te aud ience ; besides Pow ers, Buchanan Read, Craw ford, I ves,Gibson , and Harriet Hosmer among arti sts and l i ttéra teurs. Everyone of note in d iplomatic l i fe did them honor, and a l l Americans ofcharm and pos it ion ga thered around them. So many persons, indeed,from every nation made their party a center tha t a w i t describedMadame Le Vert’s sa lon in Pa ri s as the “Tow er of Babel .On a vi sit to Lamart ine he sa id to her : “You have i t in your

pow er to fill w i th plea sure the hearts of your nation. Promi se meto w rite a few souven irs Of European travel .” Such w as the inSpi

ration , and thence the name of ‘

Souven irs Of Travel,’ w hich is

made up entirely of t he j ourna l and letters of these tw o j ourneys.

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

W e have a lready sa id tha t the greatest va lue of the ‘

Souvenirs of

Travel’ is tha t i t is a veritable “human document.” Had w e no

other record of Madame Le Vert, i t w ould be ea sy to reconstructher from i t s pages as a w oman of grea t and un iversa l social charm ,

tact, and adaptabi li ty, of intellectual grasp and bri ll iancy, unt iring indust ry , indefa tigable energy, boundless enthusiasm

, spontanei ty, kindness, tenderness, j oyousness, much menta l hospi ta l i ty, freedom froma l l bi tterness, large socia l constructiveness and w ith a ca tholic bread thof v iew w h ich enabled her to be religious w i thout intolerance, and

pa trioti c w i thout prejudi ce . The record of her l i fe amfly mak esgood th i s paragon - like array of qua l ities.Adam Badeau sa id : “ In conversa tion she never flags, nor ever

utters a commonplace.

”

A Ca thol ic edi tor w rote I defy anybody to spend an hour in

her company w i thout rising up a w i ser and better man , hav ing a

sense of musica l joyance in h is heart because Of her w ords.Aga in Badeau said : “NO human being has ever been pa ined by

an unkind w ord or an ungenerous act of hers.

”

Once, w hen someone commented upon the beauty of her fee t ,H enry Clay, w ho loved

O

her dearly, sa id : “ She has a tongue th a t

never spoke an evi l w ord of anyone.

” Of tha t ca thol ic tolerancew h ich so d istingu ished her he sa id She w as made up w i thoutant ipa th ies, and in place of them has large adapta t ion and tolerance .

”

Of her appearance w as sa id : “Her forehead i s the very finest Iever saw , w h ite and smooth ,

h igh, and as transparent as ma rble .

Her eyes a re large, w i th an express ion pecul iar to themselves, l ik etha t of a dove descending from heaven in some of Guido’s or CarloDolce’s p ictures. They tell of the same ineffable softness, the same

fragrant puri ty, the same unchangeable peace.” The true secret ofher charm is perhaps summed up by Henry Bellow s, w ho sa id : “Yoursocia l success is due to that sympathetic pow er w hich enables you t ofl ing yoursel f into everybody’s place or feel ings. We may ta lk of

presence of m ind, but there is a st i ll rarer qua l i ty, presence of

heart .” Th i s qua l i ty drew around her through l i fe l iterally hundreds of admirers, both men and w omen . To know her seemed inev itably to love her. I n an unusua l degree she possessed t he capaci tyof a ttaching to her many men in close persona l friendsh ip w ithoutt he rela t ion taking on a w armer or more dangerous a spect. Besidemany lesser l ights t he most d ist ingu ished Of these friends w ere Wa shington I rv ing, M i llard Fi llmore , Edw in Booth ,

Henry W. Longfe l

low,Henry Clay, N. P. W i ll i s , Jefferson Dav is, General Beauregard ,

Robert Toombs, Alex ander H . Stephens, Edw ard Everett, John C .

Ca lhoun ,and Dan iel Webster.

Tha t the tw o other books w ritten by Madame Le Vert w ere not


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

BI BL IOGRAPHY

Souven irs of Travel. Tw o volumes. (Revi ew ed in Brow nson’sQuart erly R evi ew , Vol. ! I V , October, 1 857, pp. 528 New York,D erby and Jackson , 1 859.

The L iving Writers of the South. By James Wood Dav idson .

New York, Carleton, 1 869.

Queens of American Society. By E l i z abeth F. L . E llet. New

York, 1 867.

Women of the South D istingu i shed in L itera ture. By Mary Forrest. New York, 1 861 .

A H istory of Southern Li terature . By Carl Holl iday. New Y orkand Washington ,

Nea le Publ ish ing Company, 1 906.

Appleton’s Cyclopaedia of American B iography.

The South in H istory and L i tera ture. By Mi ldred L . Rutherford. Atlanta , Georgia , The Frankl in Turner Company, 1 907.

The Living Fema le Wri ters of the South . By Mary T. Ta rdy.

Phi ladelphia , Clax ton, Remsen and Ha ifel finger, 1 872 .

Madame Le Vert and Her Friends ; L etters from Henry Clay toMadame Le Vert. Tw o papers by Mrs. Thaddeus Horton , Uncl eRemus

'

s Magaz ine, June and August, 1 907.

INTRODUCTION TO DE LAMARTINE

From ‘Souven irs of Trave l .’

YOU remember, dea r Mamma , my deep regret a t not

meeting De L amartine w hen w e w ere in Paris before . I n

quiring for him this time, w e hea rd he w as aga in in t he

country, and I w as sadly disappointed . Speaking to a friendof the poet the other even ing, a t Prince Napoleon

’s reception ,

of my ea rnest w ish to know him, I received the pleasant intell igence that De Lamartine w as just now in the city for a fewdays. The nex t morning w e drove to h is apartments. AS he

w as not a t home, w e left our cards and a kind letter to himfrom Hon . Dudley Mann , introducing us. Then came an

invitation to spend the even ing with himsel f and Mme . La

martine . There w ere only a few litera ry persons present inaddition , and I passed some Of the most enchanting hours Ihave known for many years, with the historian, his wife, andfriends.


Monsieur De L amart ine resembles much more an American or an Englishman in manner, than a Frenchman. He

is ta ll and thin, has white ha i r, and an expression of faceindica tive of constant and intense thought . There is a dreamy,poetica l look about t he eyes ; and he speaks Slowly and withma rked emphasis. H e is ca lm and sel f - possessed, but full ofcordial ity, and his words are both genia l and kind . He is capt iva t ing in conversation, earnest and eloquent ; with SO muchfeeling in h is language, as impresses one constantly with hissincerity . H e received me with the utmost wa rmth and cha rming empressement , and seated me by h is side , SO that I hada l l his attentions to mysel f. The thread of conversation w as

unravelled by the usua l topics, until it flowed freely fromthe ba ll ; and then it soon wove itsel f into a thousand plea santthemes.

A sparkl ing little episode , like the fl ight of a Shininga rrow,

” flashed over the even ing’s pleasure, SO grat i fying tome , I must tell you of it. W e were speaking of the adorationbestowed upon relics in Rome , when one of the companyremarked that a l l nat ions possessed objects insignifi cant inthemselves, but dear from associa tions of the past . De La

martine turned to me, and sa id,“Your country, Madame, has

the most precious manuscript in the world—the signed Dec

lara t ion of I ndependence ! Do not your people make pilgrimages to look upon it ?

” Think how my hea rt swelled withjoy as I answered him, Yes

,it is sacred to a l l our citiz ens,

but most precious to me, Since my grandfa ther’s name, which

I proudly yet reta in, is thereon inscribed, as one who gavehis blood and his fortune to perpetua te our free institutions.

”

De Lama rtine rose up and bowed to me profoundly, excla iming,

“Madame, in that name you have a noble heritage . Itis the true patent of nobility, and you rightly cherish yourdescent from such a brave and heroic pa triot with honestpride !”

Not a l l the concentrated compliments of the titled, thewea lthy, and witty of France, could have touched my soulwith the same thrilling delight

, as those hea rt - wa rm wordsfrom De Lamartine, and truly the evening spent with the

historian , poet, and orator, has given me more happiness thana l l the splendid fétes I have seen in Europe.


Mme. De Lamartine is a most cha rming person, high lyaccomplished and intellectua l. She seems tenderly loved byher husband , and admired and honored by her friends. She

is an Englishwoman , and the circumstances a ttending the i runion were exceedingly romantic

,She having become pas

sionat ely interested in the author from reading his beaut i fulthoughts expressed in his

“Meditations.

” When they d id

meet, the wa rm sympa thy between them changed into love ,which has cheered and brightened the poet’s li fe, and sus

t a ined him under i ts terrible tria ls. Over her pa le face the reOften stole a deep sadness, as of long pa st sorrows, whoseShadow still lingered. When she told me she w as chi ldless,I no longer w ondered a t the cloud : she had been the mot herof four lovely children ; a l l had been gathered, as springflowers, by relentless death . In the East, a t the Holy City of

Jerusa lem, the last , a precious blooming girl, had been tak enfrom them, and the stricken father and mother were le fta lone with the ir great anguish . How sincerely w e can fee lfor these fond parents, thus bereft—w e, whose hea rts havetravelled the same dark track.

”

De L ama rtine is no longer occupied w ith politics. H e de

votes eight or n ine hours of the tw enty - four to literary pursuits. Indeed , h is wife sa id , but for her entreaties he w ouldgive much more time to them . They l ive in a quiet, comfortable style, and go early in the spring to their grape - farms

nea r Macon . The illness of Mme. De Lama rt ine had com

polled them to return for a brief period to Paris, to consul tphysicians ; and w hile they w ere here , I fortuna tely saw them .

In parting, they told me it w as quite probable they migh tvisit the Un ited Sta tes in a few years.



his talons, or a procession of monks with black cowls, or pa l ~aces, or castles, a l l tinged with a crimson hue.

It is now four O’clock, and I have passed the entire n ightlooking upon the burn ing mounta in

, and a t interva ls, whenmy delight must have expression, running to the table, and

writing down for your dear eyes a description of the da z

z l ing scene. The enthusiasm of M. D . and Octavia fadedaway by two o

’clock, so they retired to sleep. But for me

there w as an enchantment which absolutely forbade repose,and it w as only when daylight came, and hal f the ma jesty ofthe eruption had depa rted, that I w as enabled to close mywindow.

Not content with our distant view, w e resolved on W ednes

day a fternoon to approach nea rer to the wonderful specta cle.

At five w e left Naples in an open barouche, drawn by threestrong horses, and drove rapidly through Portici, and up the

mounta in to the Hermitage, passing through the vineya rdsfrom whose grapes the L acryma Christ i wine is made. The

road w as thronged with ca rriages, horsemen, donkeys, and

pedestrians by thousands. It w as an exquisite evening, andt he very heavens seemed to rejoice in t he universa l happiness ;for an eruption of Vesuvius is a benefaction to the Neapolitans. Smiling joy w as pictured on every face . The begga rseven ceased to rap their chins and to cry “

morte di fame .

”

The lame hobbled a long merrily, and the blind stretched outthei r hands, as though to feel the happiness they could not

see. There w ere crowds of handsome peasant - w omen, withsparkling eyes and ruddy cheeks, hastening up . Even t he poorlittle in fants many ca rried, w ere laughing in spite of be ingwrapped up like Egyptian mummies, and tucked under the irmothers’ a rms as though they w ere great loaves Of bread.

At the Hermitage, midw ay to the summit, there w as a

scene precisely like a race - fi el d in America . Hundreds and

hundreds of carriages w ere a l l crammed together, while thedrivers were sw ea ring and gesticulating furiously. W e gladlyleft our barouche , and hastened down a pathway through a

grove of young chestnut trees, which brought us, a fter a

brisk wal k, to t he verge of the lava flood . It poured fromthe crater far above

, and formed a stream many miles inlength. It w as a deep burn ing red , with here and there a litt l e


island of black, caused by the cooling of the surface of the

fiery river. From this ravine w e climbed up the heights above,and approached nea rer the crater. There w e encountered ourguide Beppo, who made t he ascent wi th us. The instant he

perce ived us, he cried out ,“B ene ! bene ! Signora ! You t e

member three days ago, when I a llow ed you to stop on the

side of the cone, and you asked me about the little serpentof smoke tha t burst from the lava , when the grea t mountainthundered—bene ! that w as the mouth of the crater, and thefi re w as trying to open it . You see w hat it has done now .

Graz ie a B io! w e Sha ll ea t macaron i to - night !Precisely true were t he w ords of Beppo. Just w here I had

gathered up pieces of hot lava , and hea rd, far, far down below a wild, fierce murmur

,a lmost like the utterance of human

agony, a new crater had Opened i t s flaming mouth w hencecame a torrent of lava , S ixty or seventy feet in width flow ingdow n the very pa th by which w e had ascended . It did not

dash rapidly along, as does the w ater, but moved Slow ly and

majestica l ly. It w as only when a rocky ba rrier stayed i t sprogress, tha t it would sw ell up into grand waves of fi re, and

/ (nad1ydash over it . Imagine Trenton Fa lls, with every drop

of w a ter turned to flame, pouring over ledge a fter ledge ofrocks ; or the Arno a river of fi re , rushing wildly over theheights of Tivoli

, and some fa int idea may be formed ofthe lava - ca ta ract of Vesuvius.

AS w e descended the mounta in , a fter midnight , w e met

the King of Naples, w ho had been lured from his close retirement in the‘

Pa lace of Caserta (tw enty miles from the city ) ,to ascend the mounta in . W e stopped for him to pass us ; and

t he transient view I had of h is face , revea led a stern , hard,and cruel - looking person . H is ca rriage w as encircled bymultitudes of soldiers and mounted guards.

When w e reached home , it w as impossible for me to sleep,so intense had been the ex citement of the visit to the fierymounta in . There fore I concluded to occupy the hours indescribing the glorious eruption, ere the occupations of an

other day Should chase from my mind one attribute of i t s

subl ime grandeur. The blue light of ea rly morn ing is stea l ingthrough the la tticed w indow

, and I will say , Heaven guard mymother and my child, and so woo the blessing of sleep.


A VISIT TO THE POPE

From Souven i rs of Travel.’

I CANNOT sleep to n ight, precious Mamma, until I ha vew ritten , and told you of the delight w e experienced in be ingpresented to the Pope of Rome, and of the a ffectiona te and

captivating kindness with w hich he rece ived us. A cord ia lletter from our ex cellent Bishop Portier introduced us to

Monsignore Barnabo, to w hom w e were indebted for t he

favor of th is private audience .

Yesterday morning a cha rm ing note came from CountBorromeo, in form ing me that h i s Holiness w ould gladly re

ce ive a visit from us a t four O’clock this a fternoon . Hencea t tha t hour w e drove to the Vatican (the w inter residence ofthe a ttired, according to the et iquette of t he court , indeep black, w ith long black veils throw n over our heads. Pass

ing a group of Sw iss Guards a t the foot Of the marble sta i rw ay , w e were conducted by an Offi cer a long corridors, and

through great apartments, to t he ante—chamber. The wa llsof this room w ere glow ing with t he radiant p ictures of Raphael , of Murillo, Titian , and Guido. AS w e stood adm irin s

these masterp ieces of pa int ing,Monsignore Ta lbot (an En

l ish Bishop ) joined us, and w e then proceeded to t he recept ic

room,w h ich w as a long sa lon , w ith exquisitely frescoed ce il

ing, but no adornment of furn iture .

Near a table,a t one end of t he room, his Hol iness w a s

sea ted . H e arose w hen w e entered . Monsignore Ta lbotpresent ed us, and immed ia tely ret ired . As w e approached him ,

he held out h is hands,and in a sw eet voice sa id ,

“Welcome toRome

,my friends. I kne l t be fore h im and k issed h is hand ,

w ith t he earnest reverence I w ould feel for an honored pa rent .At once w e gl ided into conversa t ion , and w ere soon com

p le t e ly charmed by h is gen ia l manner, so honest and trut h ful .H e is an ex ceedingly handsome man

,about Six ty yea rs O ld ,

w e w ere told , a l t hough he appea rs much younger. H is fea

tures are fi ne , and h is eyes beaut i ful . The expression of h ismouth is indescribably sw eet

, and his smile possesses a magnetic charm w h ich draw s to him a l l hea rts. Every w ord and

look revea l the generous and sympa thetic nature, wh ich,were it w ithin h is pow er w ould gladly Shield every humancreature from sin, suffering, or sorrow.



to bring him some of the delicacies to distribute among the

children ,w hen a fearful crash w as hea rd, and t he floor sank

into a vault below , thirty feet deep . Shrieks of terror, and

appa lling cries of the wounded, resounded through the con

vent . The crowd without, rushed a long the corridors leadingto the banquet - room. The wa lls a lone were standing. Far

below there w as a mass of ra fters, and stones of the pavedfloor, and crushed and bleeding bodies.

“ Save our Father !save his Holiness w as the first thought an imating the hea rtsof the throng around . Through the vaults below, they foundthei r w ay to the scene of disaster, and removing tables, cha irs,and mangled forms of men and children, a t last they reachedthe grea t oaken cha i r, w hich had fa llen over the Pope, and

thereby preserved him from serious injury, perhaps from in

stant dea th. They ra ised it , and to their joy t he good Popew as unhurt . H is hands were clasped in prayer for t he suf

fering creatures around him. He seemed to have no thoughtof himself .

“Oh ! how fright ful must have been your emotions whenyou felt the floor Sinking benea th you, I exclaimed , as Ilistened . H e looked a t me a lmost reproachfully, as he sa id,“No,my daughter, I w as ca lm ; for in tha t fearful moment ,

I felt I w as in the hands Of a gracious God, w ho would saveme

,i f it w ere h is d ivine w il l ; but my hea rt w as pierced with

agony, as I heard the screams of the innocent ch i ldren,and

I thought of the poor mothers rendered desolate by this horrible accident ; for I then believed many were killed and tha tothers w ould d ie of their wounds. However, the result ha sproved less severe than I imagined, and, with the blessing Ofthe Almighty, I trust a l l may recover .

”

The Pope asked 0. her name , and She replied, Octavia ,while I added ,

“

She bears my name , your Holiness, and I w asca lled a fter t he Roman Octavia , w hose cha racter my mothergrea tly admired . Whereupon h is Holiness uttered a mostcha rming panegyric upon the character of my illustrious namesake, saying,

“

You should be proud Of tha t name, for t heRoman Octavia possessed every vi rtue and grace which Shouldadorn a woman . Even now ,

in Rome , you will fi nd an un

dying remembrance of her noble and generous qual ities, andmany monuments to her memory .

”


Thank you a thousand times, Mamma , for giving me thename of Octavio.

I wish I could repeat to you'

a l l the words the POpe sa id,they were so genia l, spa rkling with intellect, and warm withkindness. After one hour’s interview, w e bade him farewell .But ere w e left him

,he gave me his benediction. As I knelt

before him, he placed hi s hand upon my head, saying,“May

the blessing Of God descend upon you, and hi s Holy Spiritguide you into a l l truth ; may God

’s providence protect you

and yours, and bring you in peace to the world of the re

deemed.

”The tones Of his voice were so solemn, so full of

a ffectionate feeling, tears of gratitude burst from my eyes,as I eagerly, and with the utmost veneration ,

kissed the handshe extended to rai se me up . Then I asked him to bless mychild ; and She, kneeling be fore him,

likewise, received h is benediction, and w e withdrew. M. D as well as your tw o Octavias, w as deeply impressed with the honesty, the truth, andthe nobleness of the Supreme Pontiff , and with a sincere ad

mira t ion of his kind manner and cordia l reception of us.

W E UNFURL OUR OW N FLAG

From Souvenirs of Travel.’

BEFORE proceeding with the day’s festivities, I must relate an episode, which will please you vastly. The fi rst glancethis morning at the myriads of flags brought vividly to mindour ow n loved stars and stripes” and I at once resolved theyshouldfloat as proudly as others, a t least from my ow n domicile. W e w rote to the American Minister to obta in one ; but


banner rushed up sta irs to compliment my patriotism. Sev

era l laughingly decla red they ex pected w e Should be forcedto take it down , as there w as a w hisper stea ling through Paristha t the United States fra t em i z ed w ith Russia ; and they werecurious to know what answ er w e w ould make to such a com

mand. Just as w e were assert ing,“

W e will never strike ourflag, the Chief of Police came i n to thank us for t he attention show n to the Guest of Paris,

” by un furling In her honorour national flag. Our friend

,Mr. Fillmore , too, who saw the

banner a t a distance as w e were loosening the tangled foldsfrom the staff, and ca sting them out upon the free a ir, ra isedhis ha t involuntarily, and bow ed to the banner with deep rev

erence ; then , when he came in , said such sweet words of approba tion, as quite gladdened our hearts, telling Octavia , as he

looked upon her hal f enveloped in the banner, She seemed theGenius of America , protecting and protected by the “

starsand stripes.

At six O’clock in the evening w e a l l took our stations on

the ba lcony. Music w as constantly floating on the a ir, and gaysights filling the eyes, so w e felt no w eariness in wai ting so

long. At length t he cannon from t he Inva l ides” boomed fort hthe announcement of the arriva l a t t he Stra sbourg station ofthe roya l visitors . A murmur of rel ie f , mult ipl ied by the

w atching thousands,rose l ike t he sound Of an ava lanche. I n

ha l f an hour more t he cortege w as in sight . \Vearied by t helong delay, the multitude had lost much of thei r enthusiasm,

and darkness w as fast coming on . Thus the absolute receptionseemed but tame

,w hen judged by i t s expecta t ion . Mi llions

and mi llions of francs w ere thus uselessly expended by poorpersons, w ho had a lmost starved themselves for w eeks thatthey might have money enough to hire a p lace w hence theycould have a good look a t Queen V ictoria .

As her Ma jesty passed our ba lcony, instead of w avinghandkerch iefs as many of the ladies d id, w e w aved the guidecolors from our nationa lflag. The Emperor ca lled herMa jesty

’s attention to this compl iment , and she most graciously

bowed to us in acknow ledgment of it .By the time t he Imperial party reached St . Cloud , a bril

liant i llumination w as glow ing throughout t he city. Al l the

public bui ldings, the Tuileries, and t he grea t Exposition edifice,



Clay, an unquestioned k ing of mind by the true right divine,when, with eyes beaming like gems, h is high white brow,

That dome of thought, tha t pa lace of the soul,

radiant with ben ignity, and encircled by h is silvery locks as

by a crown , his aged lips w reathed by the gentlest of smiles,he stood before you in tall, sta tely majesty. At such timeshe seemed to blend the graces of Sheridan with the digni tyof Washington. Thousands and thousands of h is countrywomen will long thus reca ll him to mind.

But not a lone in this, h is more priva te character, does w oman appreciate the excellence of Mr. Clay. H is public li fe ,in many of i ts aspects, had a l l the romance of chiva lry. H e

stood among the orators and statesmen Of his time as PhilipSidney amid h is contempora ry kn ights and barons. Historyhas a lready placed h is sta tue in the pantheon of immorta l ity !Our country’s records, from the purchase of Louisiana

(this lovely land of t he suga r - cane and magnolia ) to t he great

pacifi ca t ion of 1 850, are vital i z ed by his glowing words. The

mighty Mississippi , upon w hose margin w e now stand, bearsin a l l i t s waters a full remembrance Of h is early efforts to gi vefreedom to i t s commerce and to bra id i t s million streams intoa mighty band of un ion and prosperity for our gloriouscountry.

The fame of Henry Clay can never die. As our mostgi fted southern poet has sa id

Long ’mid our ga l lan t great and good

L ike Wa sh ington he nobly stood ;Whi le trembl ing on his burn ing tongue,Truth, justice, peace, and freedom hung.

Thrice w hen our storm - tossed sh ip of Sta teSeemed s inking w i th i t s priceless freight,H is guardian Sp irit, fi rm and free,Wa lked o

’er our troubled Ga l i lee .

Through a l l the w orld h is glorious name

I s w h i spered by the l ips of fame ;For long in every k indl ing z one,H is voice w as freedom’

s bugle tone !


The Greek girl kneel ing by her seas,

Deemed h im a new Demosthenes ;And young Bol ivar’s patriot rayW as l ight - l ike caught from Henry Clay.

How appropriate then is it tha t a memoria l of this modelstatesman, patriot and orator, should be erected here in the

crescen t bend of the Mississippi !Not far Off rises the sculptured image of h is great rival

compa triot ; t he one w as the sword and shield, the other themind and the tongue of the country. Side by side they standin the temple Of fame.

Glorious in their lives,let the noblest of the fi ne a rts here

place their sculptured forms together, that future generationsmay ga z e in love, gratitude , and veneration upon them, and

be nobly stimula ted in the paths of pa triotism, while they feelthe refin ing influence which the beauti ful in art a lways exertsupon i t s votaries.

The statue of Themistocles long greeted from a promontoryin Greece the home- returning voyager, and fi red a fresh h is lovefor Att ica and Athens. SO may the statue of our pa trioticorator ever inspire with emulating fervor the citi z ens of thisland of liberty

, and especially of this prosperous city of New

Orleans.



successful in the propaga tion of the Opin ions he held. He w as st rongframed, sinew y, and w arm - blooded, a man among men , able to holdh is ground in a forensic contest be fore a jury, on the hustings, or inany arena w here men’

s measure and mettle are tested. In the socia lcircle he w as genia l, tactful , and bri ll iant. He had tha t genuine sym

pa thy w ith human ity that gave h im access to h is fellow men and

drew them to him and held them. To th i s kindly temper and socialSpiri t h is happy marriage in 1 8 1 7 to Frances El i z a Parke contributedno l i tt le.Such w as h is success a t the Bar, and such the genera l esteem he

possessed, tha t in 1 822 he w as made a Judge of the Supreme Courtand w on the ti tl e w hich th e changes of h is chequered career didnot displace. He early became a contributor to new spapers and maga'

z ines and gave l i ttle rest to pen or tongue during his busy l i fe . In

1 835 he publ i shed in cheap form through t he Sen t inel press h is‘Geor

gi a Scenes,’ and among his w ri tings ‘Georgia Scenes’ w as mostw idely know n in his day . The ti tle of the book indicated clearly i tsscope and Spiri t. That w h ich gave i t i ts rel i sh and populari ty w as i t sex treme provincia lism. The characters described w ere rea l, the con

di t ions outl ined w ere true to the facts, the dialect w as perfect. On lya Georgian could apprecia te fully the

‘Georgia Scenes.’ The book w asa household w ord a t one t ime , and many a hearty laugh exh i laratedt he friendly circles w here i t w as read, Humor d i ff ers from w i t in

tha t i t is more d iffuse and less quotable. Longstreet’s humor is genuinc and rich a t i t s best in ‘Georgia Scenes ,’ and the con sti tuency forw hom he w rote w i ll not let i t perish . Other w ri tings by h im in t he

same vein w ere as truly characteristic and equally pleasing to h isreaders.

In 1 840 a new edi tion w a s publ i shed by. the Harpers, but w ithoutthe author’s revi sion ,

though thi s w a s requested. The truth w a s tha ta sign ificant change had come in th e l i fe of Judge Longstreet andhe w ould now w i ll ingly forget stories dea l ing w ith fighting and horseracing and dancing and other w orld ly a llurements. Judge Longstreet’s mind had been suddenly and Sharply turned to serious thoughtsof rel igion by t he dea th of h is Oldest son

, and about t he same t imehe and h is w i fe had learned from her fa ther how a Chri st ian couldstand the d i sastrous loss of a sa inted w i fe. Husband and w i fe bothbecame Chri st ians and Judge Longstreet, y ielding a s a lw ays to thelogic of h is ow n conv ictions, soon found h imsel f a m in i ster in t he

Methodist Church . In the year 1 840 he w a s transferred from the

active m in istry to the presidency of the new Methodist College,Emory

,and di scovered and disclosed t he fact that he w as a gi fted

teacher. The follow ing inciden t w i ll indicate the spiri t and methodsof his admin istra tion as a college president. Among the students a t

AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET 3243

Emory College w as a youth of sprightly parts and good fami ly, butnotorious as a pract ica l j oker and mi sch i ef- maker. One n ight heperpetrated a practi ca l j oke of w h ich Pres ident Longstreet h imselfw as the subject. Suspecting a t once w ho w as t he off ender, Longstreet summoned the young man into his presence, told h im that hisgui lt w as know n , and tha t su i table pun i shment m ight be expected byhim. At length he appea led to the inveterate young misch i ef- maker,saying :

“Why do you act in this mann er, involving yoursel f in trouble,and subj ecting your teachers to the unpleasant duty of pun ishingyou ?”

“ I t seems to me, answ ered the del inquent, “ that I cannot help i t .From time to time moods come upon me tha t compel me to seeksome sort of ex ci tement, and that is the only w ay by w h ich I can find

rel ief.”“A suggestion presents i tsel f to my mind,” sa id Longstreet a fter a

thoughtful pause. “You know someth ing of t he pow er of music tosoothe t he mind under ex ci tement or d i stress. My daughter is a

good pian ist, as you may know , and I am no mean player on the

flute . Herea fter, i f one of those moods of w hich you Speak shouldcome upon you, come over to my house, tell your trouble, and w e

w i ll seek by our music to ex orci se the ev i l Spiri t.”Wi th th i s t he now pen i ten t transgressor w as kindly di sm issed. A

few days had pa ssed, w hen betw een midn ight and daybreak, aboutthree O’clock in t he morn ing, a knock w as heard a t the door of thePres ident, and i t w as found tha t the unrea sonable ca ller w as the

young man w hose moods w ere m ischievous.“ I have come according to your invi ta tion ,

” he sa id,“one of

those Spells is upon me.”Th ere w as noth ing to do but comply w i th the promi se made. The

fa ir pian i st and her dign ified and learned father gave an ex t empo

ri z ed concert, w h ich quieted their one hearer, and w as doubtlessmore en joyed by h im than by t he performers. I t is plea sant to add

tha t t he young man kept h is place as a studen t, gradua ted credi tablyand a fterw ard ach ieved honorable di st inction as a law yer and pol it ician .

In turn ,Longstreet became president of Centenary College, Louis

iana , Un iversi ty of M i ssi ssipp i , and South Carol ina College . Duringthe w ar he “

refugeed” in Alabama , making his home for the time in

the qu iet l i ttle vi llage of Enon ,in the middle - east section of the Sta te.

He w as then an old man of ben ignant presence and marked persona l ity. The vi l lagers gave him a kindly w elcome and the best theyhad. True to his record, from day to day he ga thered the chi ldrenaround him under the trees in the Open a ir and taught them, mak ing


a specia lty of ari thmetic, w h ich w i th h im w as a lw ays a favori tebranch of study. Draw ing h is figures in t he sand, he in i tiated the

eager chi ldren into the mysteries of multipl ica tion , subtraction and

d ivi sion , w i th abundant enj oyment to a l l . The chi ldren soon learnedto love h im, and w i th the v i llagers of a l l ages and condit ions he hecame qui te popular. H is sojourn in Enon and h is w ork for t he ch i ldren are a plea sant memory unto thi s day .

La ter he removed to Ox ford, M i ssi ssipp i , w here he d ied on Sep

tember 9, 1 870. He w as a ski l ful law yer, a w i se and upright juri st ,an able and successful teacher, and a strong and fervent preacher.

H is persona l ity w as massive and w ell rounded. H is name w as a

household w ord throughout a large territory. To th is day t he old

Georgians and their ch i ldren Speak h is name fondly. He m ight betaken as a typica l Georgi an of the finest type. He w as best know nas a teacher.

He w rote much and variously on questions of pol it ica l economy ,ethics and religion . Much of w ha t he w rote on these subjects w as

controversia l and on transient i ssues, and therefore i t has lost someth ing of the interest i t possessed for the living w orld w hen he w rote.He w as pow erful in argument, earnest in h is appea ls to men

’s con

sci ences and hearts, now and then giv ing shrew d thrusts tha t h i t t heOpponent

’s w eak places . He l ived during a stormy period , and a t

t imes he w rote w i th a pa ssiona te pa trioti sm,or part isansh ip, i f tha t

is t he truer w ord , tha t fa irly b l a z ed on the prin t ed page. After hebecame a be l iever and a preacher of the gospel of Christ , he w roteon rel igious subj ects w ith an enthusiasm and joy fulness of sp irit tha tclothed h is w ords w i th a pow er and charm t ha t w ere truly con

vincing and p l ea sing. In a con t roversy w ith an a ssa i l ant of Chri st ian i t y in 1 870 he made a ma st erly de fence of the fa i th aga inst t hea ssaults Of one w ho, because of t he a l leged inconsi stencies on the partof a large body of Christ ian people , a t tacked Chri st ian i ty itsel f w i t hgrea t a speri ty . In th is reply Longstreet drew a sharp l ine of d ist inct ion betw een t he Christian i ty of t he New Testament and a l l pervert edtypes of i t presen t ed by a l l t he fool i sh people w ho speak in i t s name .

I t w as cred i t able to Longstreet tha t he gave some a t ten t ion t o

l itera ture a t a t ime w hen in the South men of gen ius and cul t uregave themselves a lmost w hol ly to pol i t ics and professional l i fe . Th i sw as the ir custom, from Thoma s Jeff erson and John Marsha ll dow n

to Longstreet’s ow n day .


SOUTHERN LITERATURE

conclusions, neither felt i t s confidence in the least shaken bythis circumstance. The upper batta lion swore “ that Billy on lywanted one lick a t him to knock his hea rt, liver, and lights outof him, and i f he got two a t him, he

’d knock him into a cocked

ha t .”The low er batta lion retorted ,

“ tha t he wouldn’t havetime to double his fi st be fore Bob w ould put his head where h isfeet ought to be ; and that, by the t ime he hit the ground, t hemea t would fly off h is face so quick that people would thinkit w as shook off by the fa ll . ” These disputes often led to t heargumen tum ad hominem

,but with such equa lity of success on

both sides as to leave the ma in question just where they foundit . They usua lly ended , however, in the common w ay , with a

bet , and many a qua rt of Old Jama i ca (w hiskey had not thensupplanted rum ) were staked upon the issue . Still

,grea tly to

the annoyance of the curious, Billy and Bob continued to begood friends.

Now there happened to reside in the county just al luded toa little fellow by the name of Ransy Sn ifll e, a sprout of R ichmond , w ho, in h is earlier days, had fed copiously upon red

clay and blackberries. This diet had given to Ransy a com

plexion that a corpse w ould have d isda ined to ow n, and an

abdom ina l rotund ity tha t w as quite unprepossessing. Longspells of the fever and ague too, in Ransy

’

s youth, had con

sp ired w ith clay and blackberries to throw him quite out oft he order of nature . H is shoulders w ereflesh less and elevated ;h is head large and fla t ; h is neck slim and translucent ; and h isarms, hands, fingers, and feet w ere lengthened out of a l l proport ion to the rest of h is frame . H is joints w ere large and hislimbs sma ll ; and as for flesh , he could not with propriety. besa id to have any . Those pa rts w hich nature usua lly supp lieswith t he most of this art icle—the ca lves Of the legs, for example—presented in him the appearance of so many w elldraw n blisters. H is height w as just five feet nothing ; and hisaverage w eight in blackberry sea son , n inety- fi ve . I have beenthus particular in describing him , for the purpose of Showingw hat a great matter a little fi re sometimes kindleth . Therew as nothing on this earth wh ich del ighted Ransy so muchas a fight . H e never seemed fa irly a live ex cept w hen he w as

witnessing, fomenting, or ta lking about a fight . Then,indeed ,

h is deep - sunk en gray eye assumed something of a living fi re,


and his tongue acquired a volubility that bordered upon elo

quence. Ransy had been kept for more than a year in the mosttorturing suspense as to t he compa rative manhood of B i llySta llings and Bob Durham . H e had resorted to a l l h is usua lex ped ients to bring them in col lision , and had entirely fa iled .

H e had fa ithfully reported to Bob a l l that had been sa id by t hepeople in the upper batta lion ,

“

agin him, and“

he w as sureB i l ly Stal lings started i t .

”H e hea rd B i lly say h imsel f to J im

Brow n, that he could w h ip him or any other man in his ba t

and this he told to Bob ; add ing,“

Dod darn his soul,i f he w as a little bigger, i f he

’

d let any man put upon his ba t

ta lion in such a w ay . Bob replied ,

“I f he (Sta llings ) thought

so, he’d better come and t ry i t .

” This R ansy carried to Billy,and delivered it w ith a spirit becom ing his ow n d ign ity and thecharacter of h is ba tta l ion , and w ith a colouring wel l ca lculatedto give it effect . These , and many other schemes which R ansyla id for the gratifica t ion of his curiosi ty , ent irely fa iled of theirObject . Bi l ly and Bob con t inued friends, and R ansy had begunto lapse into t he most tanta l iz ing and hopeless despa i r, w hena circumstance occurred w hich led to a settlement of the longdisputed question .

It is sa id tha t a hundred gamecocks w i ll live in perfectha rmony together i f you do not put a hen w i th them ; and so itw ould have been w ith Billy and Bob had there been no womenin the w orld . But there w ere w omen in t he w orld , and fromthem each of our heroes had taken to h imsel f a w i fe . The

good ladies w ere no strangers to the prow ess Of thei r husbands, and strange as i t may seem , they presumed a l i t tleupon it .

The tw o batta l ions had met a t the Courthouse upon a

regimenta l pa rade . The t w o champions w ere there , and theirw ives had accompan ied them . Nei ther knew the other’s lady ,nor w ere t he ladies know n to each other. The ex ercises ofthe day w ere just over

,w hen Mrs. Sta l lings and Mrs. Durham

stepped simult aneously into the store of Z ephan iah Atwater,from “

dow n east .

”

“Have you any Turkey - red sa id Mrs . S .

Have you any curta in cal ico ?”sa id Mrs. D . a t the same

moment .“

Yes, lad ies, sa id Mr. Atw a ter, I have both.


Then help me fi rst, sa id Mrs. D ., for I

’m in a hurry .

“ I’m in as great a hurry as she is,”sa id Mrs. S . ,

“

and I’

l l

thank you to help me first . ”“And, pray, w ho are you, madam ?

” continued t he other.Your betters, madam,

”w as t he reply.

At this moment Billy Sta llings stepped in . Come, sa idhe,

“

Nancy, let’s be going, i t

’s getting late .

”

“ I’d a’ been gone ha l f an hour ago,

” replied She,i f it

hadn’t a ’been for that impudent huz z y .

”

“Who do you ca ll an impudent huz z y, you nasty, good fornothing, snaggle - toothed gaub of fa t , you?

” returned Mrs. D .

“Look here , woman ,

”sa id Billy,

“ have you got a husbandhere ? I f you have , I

’ll l ick him till he learns to teach you bett er manners, you sassy hei fer you. At this moment something w as seen to rush out of the store as i f t en thousand hornets were stinging i t ; crying,

“Take ca re—let me gO - don ’thold me—where’s Bob Durham?” It w as Ransy Sn ifll e, w hohad been listen ing in breathless delight to a l l that had passed .

“Yonder’s Bob, setting on the Courthouse steps, cried one .

What’s the matter ?”

Don’t ta lk to me !” said Ransy. Bob Durham,you’d

better go long yonder, and take care of your w i fe . They’re

playing h—l w ith her there , in Z eph Atw a ter’s store . Dod

eterna lly darn my soul, i f any man w as to ta lk to my wife as

Bill Sta llions is tal king to yours, i f I wouldn’t drive blue

blaz es through him in less than no time .

Bob sprang to the store in a minute, followed by a hundredfriends ; for t he bully of a coun ty never wants friends.

“ B i l l St allions,”sa id Bob, as he entered,

“

w ha t have youbeen saying to my wi fe ?”

“I s that your w i fe ?” inquired Billy, Obviously much sur

prised , and a li t tle disconcerted .

“

Yes, She is, and no man sha ll abuse her, I don’t ca re who

Wel l, rejoined Bi l ly, it a in’t w orth w hile to go over it ;

I’ve sa id enough for a fight ; and ,

i f you’ll step out , we’ll

settle it“ Billy , sa id Bob, a re you for a fa ir fight ?”

I am, sa id Billy,“

I’ve heard much of your manhood,



take care of William Sta llions in the middle of it ; and see w ho

has the wind a t the end .

”As he uttered the last member of t he

sentence, he looked slyly a t Bob’s friends, and winked verysign ificantly ; whereupon they rushed, w ith one accord, tote ll Bob What Uncle Tommy had sa id . As they retired , t hesquire turned to Billy’s friends, and sa id, with a smile,

“Themboys th ink I mean that Bob w ill w hip .

”

Here the other party kindled into joy, and hastened to inform B i lly how Bob

’

s friends had dece ived themselves as toUncle Tommy’s opin ion . I n t he meant ime t he principa ls and

seconds were busily employed in preparing themselves for t hecomba t . The plan Of attack and de fence , the manner Of improving t he various turns Of t he confl ict ,

“

the best mode ofsav ing w ind,

”et c. ,

etc.,w ere a l l d iscussed and settled . At

lengt h Bil ly announced h imsel f ready, and h is crow d w ere seenmov ing to the center of the Courthouse Square ; he and h is

fi ve seconds in the rea r. At the same time , Bob’s party moved

to the same point , and in t he same order. The ring w as now

formed, and for a momen t the silence of death reigned throughboth batta lions. It w as soon interrupted , how ever, by the cry

of Clea r t he w ay !” from B illy’s seconds ; w hen the ring

Opened in the cen t er of the upper batt a lion (for t he order Ofmarch had arranged the center of the tw o batta lions on opposi t e sides Of the circle , ) and Billy stepped into the ring fromt he east , follow ed by h is friends. H e w as st ripped to t he

trousers, and exh ibited an arm ,breast , and shoulders of t he

most tremendous port ent . H is st ep w as firm,daring and mar

tia l ; and a s he bore h is fi ne form a l i t t le in advance of hisfriends, an involuntary burst of triumph broke from h is Sideof t he ring ; and a t the same moment , an uncontrollable thri llof aw e ran a long t he w hole curve of the low er ba t ta lion .

“

Look a t him ?” w as heard from h is friends ; just look a t

Ben , how much you ask to st and be fore that man tw o

seconds ?“

Pshaw,don

’

t t a l k about it ! Just t h ink in’about i t

’

s brokethree 0’my ribs a ’

ready !“

W hat’s Bob Durham go ing to do w hen Billy lets tha t armloose upon him ?”

AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET 325 1

God bless your soul, he’ll think thunder and lightning

a mint julep to it .”

“Oh, look here, men, go take Bill Sta llions out 0’ that ring

and bring in Phil Johnson’s stud horse , so that Durham may

have some chance ! I don’t want to see the man killed rightaway.

”

These and many other like expressions, interspersed thicklywith oa ths of the most modern coinage, were coming from a l l

points of the upper batta lion , while Bob w as adjusting the girthof his panta loons, which w a lking had discovered not to be ex

act ly right . It w as just fixed to h is mind, his foes becoming alittle noisy, and his friends a little uneasy a t his delay, whenBilly ca lled out , with a smile of some mean ing.

“Where’s thebully of t he lower batta lion ? I’m getting tired of wa iting.

“Here he is,”said Bob, lighting, as it seemed, from the

clouds into the ring, for he had actua lly bounded clea r of thehead of Ransy Sn ifl‘le into t he circle . H is descent w as quite asimposing as Billy

’s entry, and excited the same feelings, but in

Opposite bosoms.

Voices of exultation now rose on h is side.

“Where d id he come from ?”

Why,”sa id one of h is seconds, (a l l having just entered, )

w e were gerting him up, about a hundred yards out yonder,when he hea rd Billy ask for the bully and he fetched a leapover t he Court house, and went out of sight ; but I told them tocome on, they

’d fi nd him here.

Here the lower batta lion burst into a pea l of laughter,mingled w ith a look of admiration , which seemed to denotetheir entire belief of what they had heard.

“ Boys, widen the ring, so as to give him room to jump .

Oh,my little flying wild - ca t , hold him i f you can ; and

when you get him fast, hold lightning next !”

“

Ned w ha t do you think he’

s made ofSteel springs and chicken - haw k, God bless you !Gentlemen , sa id one of Bob’s seconds,

“ I understand i t isto be a fa ir fight ; catch as ca tch can , rough and tumble, no mantouch till one or the other ha lloos.

”

“Tha t’s the rule,”w as t he reply from the other Side .

Are you ready ?”

W e are ready.

”


Then bla z e away, my game cocks !At t he word, Bob dashed a t his antagon ist a t full speed ; and

Bill squa red h imsel f to receive him w ith one of h is most fa ta lblow s. Making h is ca lculation from Bob’s velocity, of t he t ime

when he w ould come within striking d istance , he let drive w i t htremendous force. But Bob’s onset w as Obv iously planned toavoid th is blow ; for, contrary to a l l expectations, he stoppedShort just out of a rm’

s reach , and , be fore B i lly could recoverhis ba lance, Bob had him

“

a l l underhold .

”The nex t second ,

sure enough,“ found Billy’s head where his feet ought to be .

”

How it w as done no one could tell ; but , as i f by supernatura lpower, both Billy

’s feet were throw n full ha l f h is ow n height

in the a ir, and he came down with a force tha t seemed to shakethe earth . As he struck the ground , commingled shouts,screams and yells burst from the lower batta l ion , loud enoughto be hea rd for mi les. Hurra , my little hornet !

” “ Save him !“Feed h im !

” “

Give him the Durham physic till h is stomachturns !” Billy w as no sooner down than Bob w as on him , and

lend ing h im awful blow s about t he face and breast . Billy madetw o efforts to rise by ma in strength

,but fa i led . Lord bless

you,man

,don’t try to get up ! L ay still and take it ; you bl eege

to have i t !B i lly now turned h is face suddenly to the ground and rose

upon h is hands and knees. Bob jerked up both his hands andthrew him on h is face . H e aga in recovered h is late posit ion , ofw hich Bob endeavoured to deprive h im a s be fore ; but , missingone arm ,

he fa i l ed , and B illy rose . But he had scarcely resumedhis feet be fore theyflew up a s be fore , and he came aga in to t heground .

“NO fight

,gentlemen !” cried Bob’s friends ;

“the man

can’t stand up ! Bouncing feet are bad th ing to fight in .

”H is

fal l , how ever, w as th is time compara tively l ight ; for, havingthrow n his right arm a round Bob’s neck , he carried h is headdow n w ith him . This grasp, w h ich w as obst inately ma inta ined ,prevented Bob from get t ing on him, and they l ay head to headseeming for a time, to do noth ing. Present ly they rose , as i fby mutua l consent ; and , a s they rose

, a shout rose from bothbatta lions.

“Oh,my lark !

” cried the east ,“has he fix ed you?

Do you begin to feel him ? H e’s only beginn ing to fight ; he

a in’t got w a rm yet .

”

Look yonder” ; cried the west ; didn’t I tell y ou so ! H e



third effort , however, brought him down, and Bob on top of

him . These efforts seemed to exhaust the little rema iningstrength of both ; and they lay , Bill undermost and Bob a crosshis breast, motionl ess, and panting for breath . After a shortpause, Bob gathered h is hand full of dirt and sand, and w as

in the act of grind ing it in his adversary’s eyes, w hen Bill cried,“ENOUGH !” Language cannot describe t he scene tha t followed ; the shouts, oa ths, frantic gestures, taunts, replies, andlitt le fights, and therefore I sha l l not a ttempt it . The champions were borne off by their seconds and washed ; when manya bleeding wound and ugly bruise w as d iscovered on each whichno eye had seen before.

Many had gathered around Bob and were in various wayscongratulating and applaud ing h im, w hen a voice from t he

center of the circle cried out,Boys

,hush and l isten to me l”

It proceeded from Squire Loggins, w ho had made h is w ay to

Bob’s side, and had ga thered h is face up into one of the mostflattering and inte lligible expressions. Al l were Obedien t to thesqui re’s command .

“

Gentlemen ,

” continued he, with a mostknowing smile, is—Sammy—Reynold—in—this—company—of—gent lemen

Yes,”sa id Sam , here I am .

Sammy,”sa id the squire , w inking to the company and

drawing the head of h is cane to h is mouth with an arch smileas he closed,

“

I—w ish—you—to tell—cousin—Bobby—and

these—gentlemen here present—w ha t—your—Uncle—Tommy—sa id—before—t he—fi ght —began .

”

“Oh, get away , Uncle Tom,

”sa id Sam, smiling (the squire

winked ) ,“

you don’t know nothing about figh t ing . (The

squire w inked aga in ) .

“Al l you know about it is how it’ll

begin,how it’ll go on, how i t

’l l end ; that

’s a l l . Cousin Bob,

w hen you’re going to fight aga in ,just go to the old man , and

l et him tell you a l l about it , I tell you.

The squire’s foresight w as compl imented in many ways bythe by

- standers ; and he retired , advising“

the boys to be a t

peace, as fighting w as a bad business.

”

Durham and St a ll ings kept their beds for severa l w eeks,and did not meet aga in for tw omonths. When they met , Billystepped up to Bob and offered h is hand , saying,

“ Bobby, you’ve

l icked me a fa ir fight ; but you w oudn’

t have done it i f I hadn’t


been in t he wrong. I oughtn’t to have treated your wife as Idid and I felt so through t he whole fight ; and it sort 0

’ cowedme .

Well, Bi l ly, sa id Bob, let’s be friends. Once in the fight,

w hen you had my finger in your mouth, and w as pea ling me inthe face and breast , I w as going to halloo ; but I thought ofPet sy , and knew the house w ould be too hot for me i f I gotw hipped when fighting for her, a fter a lways whipping when Ifought for mysel f . ”

Now that’s w hat I a lw ays love to see, sa id a by - stander.I t

’s true I brought about t he fight, but I wouldn

’t have doneit i f it hadn’t 0’been on account of Miss (Mrs. ) Durham . But

dod et arna l ly darn my soul, i f I ever could stand by and see

any w oman put upon , much less Miss Durham. I f Bobbyhadn’t been there, I

’d 0’ took it up mysel f, be darned i f Iw ouldn’t

,even i f I’d 0’ got w hipped for it . But we’re a l l

friends now .

”The reader need ha rdly be told that this w as

Ransy Sniffl e .

Thanks to the Christian religion , to schools, colleges and benevolent associa tions, such scenes of barbarism and cruelty astha t which I have been just describing are now of rare occurrence, though they may still be occasiona lly met with in someof the new count ies. Wherever they preva il , they are a d is

grace to tha t commun ity. The peace ofli cers who countenancethem deserve a place in t he Pen itentiary .

THE HORSE- SW AP

From Georgi a Scenes.

’

DURING the session of t he Supreme court , in the village ofabout three w eeks ago,

w hen a number Of people w ere

collected in the principa l street of t he village, I observed a

young man rid ing up and dow n the street , as I supposed in a

violent passion . H e ga lloped this w ay , then that, and then theother ; spurred his horse to one group of c i t i z ens

,then to an

other ; then dashed Off a t ha l f speed , as i f fleeing from danger ;and , suddenly checking h is horse , returned first in a pace , thenin a trot , and then in a canter . While he w as performing thesevarious evolut ions, he cursed , swore, whooped, screamed and


tossed himsel f in every attitude w hich a man could assume onhorseback . I n short , he cavorted most magnan imously (a termwhich in our tongue, expresses a l l tha t I have described, and a

little more ) , and seemed to be setting al l crea tion a t defiance .

As I like to see a l l that is passing, I determined to take a posit ion a little nearer to h im, and to ascerta in ,

i f possible, wha t itw as that a ffected him so sensibly. Accord ingly, I approached acrow d be fore which he had stopped for a moment, and examined it with t he strictest scrutiny. But I could see nothing in itthat seemed to have anyth ing to do w ith the cavorter. Everyman appea red to be in good humor, and al l minding the ir ow n

business. Not one so much as noticed the principal figure .

Still he went on. After a semicolon pause, which my appea rance seemed to produce (for he

'

eyed me closely as I ap

proached ) , he fetched a whoop , and sw ore that he could outsw ap any live man , woman or ch ild that ever w al ked these hillsor tha t ever straddled horseflesh since the days of old daddyAdam .

“ Stranger,”sa id he to me,

“ did you ever see the Yallow B lossom from Jasper ?

”

N sa id I ,“

but'

I have often heard of him.

“I’m the boy, cont inued he ,

“

perhaps a Iee t le, j 1st a Iee t l e,

of the best man a t a horse - sw ap tha t ever trod Shoe lea ther. ”

I began to feel my S i tuat ion a little aw kw ard , when I w asrelieved by a man somew hat advanced in years, w ho stepped upand began to survey t he Yal low B lossom

’

s” horse with much

apparent interest . This drew the rider’s a t tention , and he

turned the conversa t ion from me to the stranger .“Wel l

,my Old coon,

”sa id he ,

“

do you w ant to swaphosscs?

”

“

W hy , I don’t know

,replied the stranger ; I believe I

’ve

got a beast I’d trade w ith you for tha t one, i f you l ike him .

“

W e l l , fet ch up your nag,my old cock ; you

’re j ist t he lark Iw ant ed to get a hold of . I am perhaps a Iee t le , jist a Iee t le, oft he best man a t a horse - sw ap tha t ever stole crack l ins out of

h is mammy’s fa t gourd . Where’s your hoss?”

“ I’ll bring h im presen t ly ; but I w ant to ex amine your horsea litt le .

Oh ! look a t him , sa id the Blossom,a l ight ing and hitting

him a cut ;“ look a t him . H e

’s the best piece of hoss flesh i n

the thirteen un ited un ivarsa l w orlds. There’

fi no sort 0’mi s



then in triple time, then faster and shorter and faster and shorter still, until it fina lly died away imperceptibly into i t s na tura lposition . I f I might compa re sights to sounds I should say i t s

set t l ing w as more like the note of a locust than anything e lse

in nature.

E ither from native sprightliness Of d isposition ,from uncon

t rol lab le activity, or from an unconquerable habit of removingflies by the stamping Of the feet , Bullet never stood still , buta lways kept up a gentle fly - sca ring movemen t of h is l imbs,which w as peculiarly interesting.

“ I tell you, man , proceeded t he Ya l low Blossom,he

’s the

best live hoss that ever trod the grit of Georgia. Bob Sma rtknows the hoss. Come here, Bob, and mount this hoss, andShow Bullet’s motions.

” Here Bullet bristled up , and looked as

i f he had been hunting for Bob a l l day long, and had just foundhim . Bob sprang on his back.

“

BOO - OO- OO sa id Bob , with afluttering noise of the lips ; and aw ay w ent Bullet, as i f in a

qua rter race , with a l l h is beauties spread in handsome style.

“

Now fetch him back,”sa id Blossom. Bul l et turned and

came in pretty much as he went out .“

Now trot him by .

” Bullet reduced his ta il to custom

sidled to the right and left a iri ly, and exhibited a t leastthree varieties of trot in the short space of fifty yards.

“Make h im pace !” Bob commenced tw itching the bridle and

kicking a t the same time . These inconsistent movements obviously (and most na tura lly ) d isconcerted Bullet ; for it w as impossible for him to learn, from them ,

w hether he w as to proceed or stand still . H e started to trot , and w as told tha twouldn ’t do. H e attempted a canter, and w as checked aga in .

H e stopped , and w as urged to go on . Bullet now rushed intothe w ild field of experiment , and st ruck out a ga it of h is ow n ,

tha t completely turned the t abl es upon his rider, and certa in lydeserved a patent . It seemed to have der ived i t s element s fromt he j ig, the minuet and the cotil l ion . I f i t w as not a pace , i t

certa inly had pace in it, and no man could ven t ure to ca l l itanyt hing else ; so it passed off to t he sat isfact ion of t he ow ner.

“Wa lk him !” Bullet w as now a t home aga in ; and he w a lkedas i f money w as staked on him .

The stranger, w hose name , I a fterw a rds learned, w as

Peter Ketch, having examined Bullet to h is hea rt’

s content, or


dered his son ,Neddy, to go and bring up Ki t . Neddy soon ap

peared upon Ki t , a well - formed sorrel of the middle Si z e, andin good order. H is tout ensembl e threw Bullet entirely in theshade, though a glance w as sufli cient to sa tisfy any one thatBullet had decided advantage of him in point Of intellect .

“

W hy man ,

”sa id Blossom ,

“

do you bring such a hoss as

tha t to trade for Bullet ? Oh, I see you’re no notion Of trad

mg.

R ide him OE, Neddy sa id Peter. Ki t put off a t a handsome lope .

“Trot him back Ki t came in a t a long sw eep ing trot , andstopped suddenly a t the crowd .

“Well, sa id Blossom,

“

let me look a t him ; maybe he’ll do

to plough .

“Examine him !” sa id Peter, taking hold of the bridle close

to the mouth,“he

’s nothing but a tacky . H e a in’t as pret ty a

horse as Bullet , I know , but he’ll do. Sta rt ’

em together for ahundred and fifty mi l e ; and i f Ki t a in

’t tw enty mile ahead ofhim a t the coming out , any man may take Ki t for nothing .

But he’s a monstrous mean horse , gentlemen, any man may see

tha t . H e’s t he sca riest horse , too, you ever saw . H e won’t do

to hunt on , no how . Stranger, w i ll you l et Neddy have yourrifle to shoot Off him ? L ay t he rifle betw een h is ears, Neddy,and shoot a t the bla z e in tha t stump . Tell me w hen h is headis high enough .

”

Ned fired,and hit the bla z e ; and Ki t did not move a ha ir

’s

breadth .

Neddy, take a couple Of sticks, and beat on tha t hogsheada t Kit’s ta i l . ”

Ned made a tremendous racket a t which Bul let took fright,broke h is bridle , and dashed Off in grand style ; and w ould havestopped a l l further negot iations by going home in disgust , hadnot a traveller a rrested him and brought him back ; but Ki t didnot move .

“ I tell you, gentlemen , continued Peter he’s the scariest

horse you ever saw . H e a in’t as gentle as Bullet, but he won’t

do any harm i f you watch him. Sha ll I put him in a gig, cart,or wagon for you, stranger ? He

’ll cut the same capers there hedoes here . He

’s a monstrous mean horse .

”

During a l l this time Blossom w as examin ing him with the

SOUTHERN LITERATURE

nicest scrutiny. Having examined h is frame and limbs, henow looked a t his eyes.

“He

’s got a curious look out of his eyes, sa id Blossom .

Oh, yes, sir,

”sa id Peter, just as blind as a ba t . Blind

horses a lways have clea r eyes. Make a motion a t h is eyes, i f

you please, S ir.

Blossom did so, and Ki t threw up his head rather as i fsomething pricked him under t he chin than as i f fearing a blow .

Blossom repea ted the experiment, and Ki t jerked back in con

siderable aston ishment .“ Stone blind, you see, gentlemen, proceeded Peter ; but

he’s just as good to travel Of a da rk n ight as i f he had eyes.

“Blame my buttons,”sa id Blossom, i f I like them eyes.

N sa id Peter,“

nor I neither. I’d ra ther have ’em made

of diamonds ; but they’ll do, i f they don

’t show as much whiteas Bullet’s.

”

“Well,”sa id Blossom,

make a pass a t me .

N0, sa id Peter,“

you made the banter, now make your

Well, I’m never a fra id to price my hosses. Youmust give

me tw enty - five dolla rs boot .”

Oh, certa in ly ; say fifty, and my saddle and bridle in .

Here , Neddy, my son ,take aw ay daddy’s horse .

”

“Well,”sa id Blossom

,

“

I’ve made my pass, now you make

yours.

”

“ I’m for Short ta lk in a horse - swap , and therefore a lwaystell a gen t leman a t once w hat I mean to do. Youmust give met en dollars.

”

Blossom sw ore absolutely, roundly, and profanely, that henever w ould give boot .

“Well,”sa id Peter

,I don’t ca re about trading ; but you cut

such h igh shines, that I thought I’d l ike to back you out , and

I’ve done it . Gentlemen , you see I

’ve brought him to a hack.

”

“

Come, old man ,

”sa i d Blossom,

“

I’ve been joking with

you. I begin to think you do want to trade ; therefore , give mefive dollars and take Bullet . I

’d ra ther lose t en dollars any time

than not make a trade, though I ha te to fl ing aw ay a goodhoss.

”

“Well, sa id Peter,“ I’ll be just as clever as you are, just



many fea tures as Bullet had motions. My heart sickened a t

the sight ; and I felt that t he brute who had been rid ing him intha t cond ition deserved the ha lter.The preva i ling feeling, however, w as that of mirth. The

laugh became loud and genera l a t the Old man’s expense , and

rustic witticisms were libera lly bestowed upon him and his la tepurchase . These Blossom continued to provoke by various remarks. H e asked the Old man “ i f he thought Bullet would letfi ve dolla rs l ie on h is back .

”H e declared most seriously that

he had owned that horse three months, and had never d iscovered be fore that he had a sore back,

“

or he never should havethought of trading him,

”et c.

The Ol d man bore it a l l with the most phi lOSOph ic composure . He evinced no astonishment a t h is late d iscovery, andmade no replies. But h is son ,

Neddy,had not d isciplined h is

feelings quite so well . H is eyes Opened w ider and wider fromthe first to the last pull of the blanket ; and , w hen the wholesore burst upon his view, aston ishment and fright seemed tocontend for the mastery of h is countenance . As the blanketdisappea red, he stuck h is hands in h is breeches pockets, heaveda deep sigh , and lapsed into a profound revery, from w h ich hew as on ly roused by the cuts a t h is father. H e bore them as

long as he could ; and , w hen he could conta in himsel f no lon

ger, he began ,w ith a certa in w i ldness of ex pression w hich gave

a peculia r interest to w hat he uttered : H is back’s mighty badOE ; but Old Kit’s both blind and deef !

”

You w a lk him, and see i f he eint . H is eyes don’t look likeit ; but he

’d fis t as leave go agin t he house w ith you, or in a

d itch, as any how . Now you go try him .

”The laugh w as now

turned on Blossom ; and many rushed to test the fidelity Of thelittle boy’s report . A few experiments established i t s truthbeyond cont roversy.

“

Neddy ,”sa id t he Ol d man , you oughtn

’t to try and makepeople d iscontented w ith their th ings. Stranger, don

’t mindwha t the little boy says. I f you can only get Ki t rid of themlittle fa i lings, you

’ll fi nd him a l l sorts of a horse . You are a

Iee t le the best man a t a horse - sw ap that I ever got hold of ; butdon’t fool aw ay Kit . Come, Neddy, my son , let

’s be moving ;

t he stranger seems to be getting snappish .

”


A TOUCH OF POLEMICS

Reply t o an Unbel iever.

TH E grea t fault Of the Christian religion ,in your estima

tion and tha t w hich has been the source Of a l l the miseriesw hich it has brought upon the world, is that it cla ims to be theonly true religion , and tha t it w i ll a llow mankind to have no

other. Well , that is precisely the cha racter of our religion , and

it has a lw ays been en forced ex actly a s you are en forcing yoursnow , except tha t persuasion and entreaty (often with tea rs ) areimplements of i t s w arfare , but never Of yours. Why, man , are

you not only mora lly blind , so that you cannot see the truth asit is in Christ , but physica lly blind, so tha t you cannot even see

your adversary ? Here w e stand before t he world in contrast ;you the champion of your religion , I t he champion of mine ;you contending tha t yours is true ; I contending tha t mine istrue ; you support ing yours by ca lm and tempera te argument ,I doing the same . They have not one common principle . Now

what advantage have I over you or you over me in position on

the field or in kind of armory ? When you say that your religion is true , do you not virtua lly assert tha t a l l others are fa lse ?Can there be t w o rel igions w hol ly un like and both true ? The

encroachmen t s w hich I am now making upon your religion are

ex actly such a s you are making on mine . In t he name Of God

and of reason and Of common sense, then , wha t do you meanw hen you compla in of me and my people because w e assertthat there is but one true religion , and that w e have it ; and ofour intolerance, w hen it is ex actly your ow n ? And yet you dothis very thing pla in ly and unmistakably ! Now , sir, I w i l l bekinder to you than you are to yoursel f ; I w ill save your understand ing from the ravages of your w ords. You do not mean tobe understood as contend ing tha t tw o religions differing inprinciples can both be true , but that the votaries of the true oneShould be perfectly inert and passive amidst a hundred fa lseones. I f a true religion be w orth nothing

, you are right ; buti f it be Of va lue, and grea t va lue , then you could not havebroached a more preposterous opin ion i f you had searched a

yearfor it . It is a t w ar w ith t he very nature and duty Of man,i f any duty be upon him. It is at w ar with the practices of


a l l men from the creation to this day , not except ing yourself.

H ad i t been adopted and practiced by the races who have gonebe fore us w e would now be in African da rkness. I f adoptednow and practiced in future, it w ould put a dead lock upon t hewheels of science, and a rrest a l l advancements in agriculture ,commerce

,interna l improvement, government or mora ls. L et

every man w ho discovers a good thing for soul or body keep i tto himself, and not go to disturbing h is neighbors with it to sti rup stri fe and blood - shed among them ! There’s your princip le,kind sir, in a nutshell .W e have sa id tha t i f Christ did not perform the miracles a t

tributed to him,his disciples forged them—nobody else could

have done it .The d isciples w ere a l l ignorant, a rtless men . They com

menced preaching soon a fter Christ’s dea th in Jerusa lem,where

they w ere ordered to rema in for some time and preach to the

Jew s on ly . They w ere a l l very sad a t the departure of the irLord and Master ; but w hile aw a it ing orders t he thought strucksome one Of them (a t a prayer - meeting most likely ) tha t asthey were soon going out to preach the gospel of Christ , and toassert that t he author of it w as the son of God , and equa l w ithGod, or ra ther God h imsel f man i fest in the flesh , they foresawtha t they could make but l i t t le headw ay in t heir min istry unlessthey could convince t he w orld that he did many superhumanw orks w hile he sojourned on ea rth . So they drew up t he im

aginary miracles as w e fi nd them . But there w as a brother tobe added to them to supply t he place of Judas. SO as soon as

he w as chosen they w ent to him and told a l l tha t they had done,and the reason of it , and presented h im a copy Of a l l the miracles t hey had agreed to preach . H e rece ived it very graciouslyand commenced commi t t ing t hem to memory as ha rd as he

could ,for the t ime for his preach ing w as a t hand . It soon

came on ,and (under our suppos i t ion, pray keep in mind) these

a rt less but daunt l ess champ ions of the Cross w ent out uponthei r mission of love and ly ing. How must their first sermonshave run w hen they undertook to st rengt hen the gospel by an

appea l to Christ’s m iracles ? Somehow thus : “ I tell you people

Of Jerusa l em that Christ w as the Pow er of God ,and t he W is

dom of God .

’ Tha t he w as the Wisdom of God , you lea rnfrom h is gospel ; that he w as the pow er of God a l l Jerusa lem



Capernaum to testi fy to it from what they had seen and han

dled and tasted a t t he feasts of the loaves and fishes.

Well, thus they w ent on preaching for tw enty or moreyears, until , having perfect ly ama lgamated their lies withChrist’s truths, one of h is d isciples w rites out a history of h isMaster. Soon a fter a follow er

,not a disciple, writes out an

other, then another of like kind does the like . And lastly, another disciple does the same . These historians a l l agree ingiving the same cha racter to Christ, but each one adds one ormore miracles to the l ist given by h is predecessor. These booksare collected together, received by thousands and tens of thousands as the veritable word Of God , are preserved as men preserve diamonds, and passed down from hand to hand, and pento pen , to this day ; and you are now compla ining that theseforging

,lying rasca ls got up a religion eighteen hundred yea rs

ago that won’t l et you a lone .

Now ,sir, i f the miracles recorded in the gospel were never

wrought by Christ or anybody else, i f they w ere a l l forgeries o fthe d isciples and pa lmed OE upon t he credulity of mankind , in

the w ay w e have seen they must have been , then every d isciplew as himsel f as far out of the order of nature as a hot iciclew ould be ,

and there fore an indisput ab le m iracle . God nevermade the man w ho could ex actly fill the mea sure of a discip leaccording to your grading. But you bel ieve he made tw e lvesuch . You do not bel ieve tha t Christ possessed superhuman

pow ers,but you bel ieve t ha t h is servants did . You do not

adm it tha t he performed one miracle, but you admit that w ithout check or reproo f he a llow ed h is d isciples to assert everyw here tha t he w rought a hundred ; for grant tha t he sent themout to preach a fter he rose from the dead , and you must suppose that he l ived long enough to see w hether they w ere gett inga long to his l ik ing.

Thus be l ieving and d isbe l iev ing, you are a compound of

credul ity and incredul i t y w hich throw s you quite out Of t heorder of nature and makes you a miracle .

DANIEL BED INGER LUCAS

[ 1 836 J

LAURENCE S . MARYE

ANIEL BEDINGER LUCAS w as born near Charlestow n ,

Jefferson County, Virgin ia (now West Virgin ia ) , on March 1 6,

1 836, and is now , in his seventy - fourth year, in fra i l hea lth but w i thmenta l faculties tha t show no touch of decadence, tranqui lly Spend

ing t he closing years of h is l i fe in the vicin ity of tha t tow n, a t h ispa terna l home, R ion Ha ll . Although h is retirement is often cheeredby t he vi si ts of cherished friends, his chief compan ionship is w i ththe books that look dow n upon him from the shelves of his amplel ibrary.Mr. Lucas comes from honorable ancestry, identified on both

sides w i th the h istory of the “Old Domin ion ,

” through Revolutionarytimes, through the Indian W ar, and in the Civ i l , or Con federa te, W ar,

in w hi ch la st he took an active part. Indeed, few fami ly recordsare more replete w i th romantic and mi l i tary h istory than those ofthe Lucas and Bed inger fami l ies.

Dan iel B. Lucas w as the third of four chi ldren , the‘ youngest,

Virgin ia , possessing to a considerable ex tent the poetic temperament of her distingu ished brother.

After a ttending severa l priva te academies, young Lucas w as, in

h is seventeenth year, sent to t he Un iversity of Virgin ia , w here herema ined four years, graduating under the elective system in mostof the a cademic schools of tha t famous sea t of lea rn ing. Possessing in h igh degree the gi ft of ora tory, he w as chosen the va ledic

torian of the Jefferson Society a t the commencement ex erci ses of1 856, h is la st year a t the Un iversi ty. After leaving the Un iversi ty,he entered the w ell - know n l aw school of Judge John W. Brockenborough , a t Lex ington , Virg in ia , from w h ich he w as graduated in1 858. He then Obta ined adm ission to the Bar and for a year praeticed l aw in his native county of Jefferson and the contiguous counties.Early in 1 860 Mr. Lucas moved to Richmond, in w h ich city he

w as engaged in the pract ice of his profession w hen the Civi l W ar

broke out . I t w as in thi s year tha t the Presidentia l contest tookplace w h i ch resulted in the election of Abraham Lincoln and the

secession of the Southern Sta tes. During the prel iminary canvass3x 7


an immense mass- meeting w as held a t the African Church in Ri chmond , that Spa cious bu i ld ing be ing a t tha t day the place w here

pol i tica l gatherings w ere held . Ex citement ran h igh . The mass

meeting had been ca lled , a s w a s supposed , in furtherance of thecandida cy of Mr. Robert M . T . Hunter for the nomina t ion . Whenthe principa l Speaker in beha l f of Mr. Hun ter sa t dow n Mr. Lucasinstantly rose to reply. Being of low sta ture, he stood upon the

bench on w hich he had been si tting. As he had only recently cometo the ci ty, not one in t en of the aud ience had ever seen him, and a

cry w ent up from every part of the house : W ho i s he ? w ho i s he ?”

Pausing del ibera tely, and looking around upon t he audience, Lucasrepl ied : “ I am a Democrat ; I am a Virgin ian ; I am a gentleman .

”

A Shout that Shook the ra fters of the bu i ld ing greeted th i s response,and there w ere ex clamat ions of “Take t he stand ! Take t he stand !”Lucas w a lked slow ly forw ard , a scended t he stand, and del ivered a

reply tha t simply overw helmed h is Opponent. I t w as ardent, elo

quent, sarcast ic, w ithering.

“Mr. Hunter may be a b ig man ,

” sa idhe,

“but w e w an t an ava i lable man l ike W ise. We w ant a sea - goingcra ft tha t can ride the w a ters l ike a th ing Of l i fe ; not a b ig Sh ip

tha t, l ike the Grea t Eas tern,is a fra id to tempt the w aves, and l ies

land- locked to a l l etern ity.

” Such a triumph has seldom been w it

nessed on the pol itica l platform or the hustings.The sympathies of Mr. Luca s be ing w ith h is na tive State, he

follow ed her fortunes, det erm ined to fight for her a s h is ancestorshad fought. In June, 1 86 1 , he joined the st a ff of Genera l Henry A.

W ise,ex - Governor of Virgin ia , and served under h im during h is

campa ign in the Kanaw ha Va lley. H e w a s not able to rema in in

t he field during the entire w ar—indeed, h is physica l cond i t ion did

not just i fy his entering a t a l l upon an a rmy l i fe, as he had sufferedw hen a chi ld (by a fa ll from t he nurse’s arms, i t is sa id ) an injuryto the Sp ine w hich v i s ited upon h im a permanent bodi ly infirmi ty.

Upon leav ing the field, he resumed h is res idence in R ichmond and

Opened aga in h is l aw - Offi ce during the second and th ird years ofthe w ar, though there w a s but l i t tle pract ice , s ince, even i f i t w a s

not true th a t , pursuant to t he max im ,

“ i n t er arma l egcs si l en t ,”the

law s w ere inopera t ive , as a ma t t er of fact the courts w ere pract ica lly closed. I t i s not to be supposed tha t during these yea rs Mr.

Lucas had cea sed w riting. On the contra ry, many of h is most polished and insp iring poe t ic eEusions w ere w ri tten and publishedduring t he w ar period, and have a he ightened interest from the

m i l i tary ardor tha t an ima t es them and the cla sh of arms that re

sounds in the ir rhymes.Mr. Lucas “

ran th e blockade” to Canada , leaving R ichmond January 1 , 1 865, in order to ass ist in the defence of Capta in John Yates



upon publ ic sentimen t ia West Virgin ia . Wendell Ph i ll ips, duringthe days of the aboli tion movement, never di splayed more resolutepurpose or inflex ible devot ion to h i s cause than Dan iel B. Lucas hasShow n in his rigid adherence, both in practice and ora tori ca l appea ls,to the JeEerson ian standard of D emocracy.

”

Mr. Luca s w as a regent of the Sta te Un iversity for e ight yea rs,and in July, 1 876, w as unan imously elected Professor of Law in tha tinsti tution, an honor w hich h is law practice obl iged him to decl ine.

For t he same reason ,in t he same yea r, he a lso decl ined the Omoe of

Judge of the Circui t Court, to w h ich he had been appointed by Govcruor Mathew s to fi l l the vacancy caused by the resigna tion of JudgeHoge. The degree of Doctor of Law s w as most w orthi ly and appro

pria t ely conferred upon h im in 1 884 by the Un iversi ty of West V irgin ia . In that yea r Mr. Luca s, yielding to the sol ici tations of t heci ti z ens of Jefferson County, became a member of the Legi sla ture,w here he took an active part as a reformer and w as instrumenta l incorrecting many abuses and causing the enactment of many sa lutarylaw s.

In the autumn of 1 886 he w as reé lect ed to the Legi sla ture. At

th is sess ion his most notable w ork w as his Opposi tion to, and defea tof, Sena tor Camden as h i s ow n successor in the Un ited States Sena te .

In February, 1 887, Governor Wi lson appointed Mr. Lucas as Sena torad in t erim, unt i l the regula r election by the L egi sla ture.In 1 869 Mr. Luca s married M iss Lena T. Brooke, t he daughter

of Henry L . Brooke of R ichmond, Virgin ia , and a grand - n iece oftha t eccentric cha racter, but most gi fted of Virgin ia statesmen ,

JohnRandolph of Roanoke. They have one daughter, Virgin ia Luca s, anon ly chi ld.

I t w ould seem that, for one w ho had l ed such an active profess ioua l and pol itica l l i fe, w i th a l l t he ha rd w ork incident to a careersuch a s th is sket ch has outl ined, but l i ttle Opportun ity had ex i stedfor l i terary compos ition , espec ia lly of a cla ssical order. Neverth e

less,Judge Luca s has accompl ished an amount of l i terary w ork that

w ould be honor enough of i tsel f for any man of let ters. In add i

t ion to t he memoi r of Capta in Bea l l, above mentioned, he has publ ished

‘

The Wreath of Eglan t ine,’a volume of poems, chiefly of hi s

ow n compos i t ion ,though a few w ere the production of a gi fted

sister, M iss V irgin ia Luca s , now deceased , these be ing ‘

The Ma id ofNorthumberland,’ a drama Of the Civ il W ar, and

‘Ba llads and Madriga ls .’ H e ha s w ri t t en ot her poems that w ere w ell received, and hasdel ivered addresses for Specia l occa sions , and be fore pa triot ic a ssembl ies. Of these latter, h is finest product ion w as an ora tion on Dan ielO

’Connel l ; a ma sterly ana lysi s of t he character, and a vivid h istor

ica l p icture of the t ime, of the Iri sh L ibera tor. Th is eloquent por

DANIEL BED INGER LUCAS 3271

t raya l of O’Connel l and his t ime met w i th an enthusiastic reception.

I t w as prepared origina lly upon the inv i tation of the Parnell Club ofWheel ing, and w as del ivered in the Opera - house of that ci ty on the

even ing of August 6, 1 886. Mr. Luca s w as invited to repeat i t a tt he Norw ood I nstitute, Washington ,

D i strict of Columbia , Apri l 1 3,1 888, and aga in in t he room of t he House of Delega tes in the StateCap itol , a t Charleston , West Virgi n ia , January 20, 1 889. Of the

pa triotic and commemora tive poems he has w ri tten , the follow ingare the most notable : One for the dedi ca tion of the Con federa tecemetery a t W inchester, in 1 865 ; one for the semi - centenn ia l of t heUn iversity of Virgin ia , in 1 879 ; another for the unvei l ing ofthe Con federa te Monument in Charlestow n , in 1 882 ; another fort he Convention of the Delta Kappa Epsi lon L i terary Society of theNorthw est, Ch icago, October 1 9, 1 887 ; and sti ll another for the an

nua l banquet of the New York Southern Society held in that ci tyFebruary 22, 1 888. On ea ch of these occa sions Mr. Luca s w as the

chosen poet.Among h is discourses tha t have a ttracted most attention may be

named tha t on John Brow n , del ivered a t Winchester in 1 865 ; tha ton John Randolph, a t Hampden S idney College, del ivered in 1 884;

his “ Study of H enry Clay,” del ivered a t Louisvi lle in 1 89 1 ; and the

one on Dan i el O’Connel l to w h ich w e have referred. These are ad

mirable specimens of American learn ing and eloquence. The la teJudge W i ll i am Ma thew s Merrick, of the Supreme Court of theDistrict of Columb ia, w ho heard t he lecture on O

’Connel l w hen

del ivered in Wash ington , declared that for pow er Of statement, origina l i ty of thought, and gi ft as an ora tor, Mr. Luca s w as surpassedby no one w hom he had ever heard.

He w as appointed by the Governor to the Supreme Court ofAppea ls as the successor of the la te Judge Green, h is former partner,w ho died in November, 1 889, and w hose career and biography formthe subj ect of a paper by Judge Lucas, w hich w as read before theBar Associa tion of West Virgin ia . In 1 890 he w as regularly nomina t ed to tha t high tribuna l , and in November of that year he w as

elected by an overw helm ing ma j ori ty of the popular vote. He w as

soon made Ch ief Justi ce, or president of the court , and presided overi t s del iberations w i th d ign i ty and marked abi l i ty for severa l years,unti l hi s decl in ing hea lth compelled him voluntari ly to retire fromt he bench , and from a l l ex act ing labors, professiona l or otherw ise.I t w i l l be seen from th is sketch tha t Mr. Lucas possesses ta lents

of a very h igh order and tha t these ta lents are of a diversified character. He is an eminent jurist ; a pleasing and pow erful Speaker,possessing the attributes of the rea l orator ; and a poet of no meanmeri t.


W e cannot lay aside the pen tha t pays th is inadequate tributew ithout a concluding w ord upon Mr. Lucas

’s rare gi ft as a conver

sa t iona l ist . H is d i scourse pa rt akes not a t a l l of the idle gossip of t heday , or of t rivia l i t ies of any k ind. I t is on ly a theme of intrinsicinterest in the doma in of current pol i t ics, or Of sta tecra ft or of l i terature, tha t can draw forth h is flow of ready and often impa ssionedspeech, and his pow ers of aggressive but a lw ays courteous disputat ion . When he is aroused by the di scussion of some h igh and con

gen i a l theme, t he glow ing eye, the an imated countenance, the playof fea ture, t he empha tic gesture , impart to h is conversa tion an in

describable fa scinat ion . Combin ing l iterary tra its and socia l charmsw i th fervid pow ers of deba te, he brings del igh t into any companyof congen ia l friends.

3 . I .

DANIEL O'

CONNELL

Ext racts from an Address delivered a t t he Opera - house in Whee l ing, August 6, 1 886.

DANIEL O’CONNELL w as not on ly the friend of universa l

religious liberty ,but he w as, i ntus cl in cute

,a democrat, tha t

is to say , a bel iever in the ul t imate sovere ignty of t he people .

Although educa ted under fore ign ausp ices and sacerdota linfluences, un friendly, perhaps, to popular liberty, he w as byna ture a democrat .

Cries V ictor Hugo : L e peuple est une mer aussi !”

(Thepeople, too, are a

From the outset Of his polit ica l career, O’Connel l embarked

h is fortunes upon this popular sea , w ith compass to the pola rstar of “

t he rights and libert ies of t he people .

” Sa id Fit zgera ld , h is Opponent for County Clare a t O

’Connel l

’s first

e lection to Parl iament,“ I have polled the gentry to a man !

”

But O’Connel l had polled the people, and into Pa rl iament

he w ent , the first Ca tholic elected to the Commons for morethan one hundred and fi fty yea rs.

When the Emancipation B i ll w as passed , Parliament hadthe bad grace to accompany it w ith disfranchisement of t heforty - shilling freeholders. This,

”says Mr. Yonge

,

“w as the



imagine the ex tent of the tempta tion or the va lue of the sacrifi ce in declining these ofli ces.

The w hole Anglo- Irish government w as built , and fromthe ea rliest times had rested upon , an elabora te, premedita ted ,and recogn iz ed system of simony, bribery, rew ards, pensions,and t itles. Dublin Castle w as the centre a round w hich re

volved a w hole planeta ry system of honors and emolumen ts,beyond t he i llumina tion of w hich a l l w as da rkness and ob

scuri ty . Grattan had been pronounced the on ly unpurchasedorator. Flood, Fitz gera ld , Ponsonby, Castlereagh, Cann ing,Plunket, Saurin , Shiel—O my God ! w here sha ll w e end thislist, which, with few exceptions, might be pronounced t he

dea th - roll of Irish honor ? Reviled , rid iculed, be llow ed dow n

in Parliament,“the best - abused man in Europe

”—one thingrema ined to be tried by t he Government to si lence O’

Conne l l :

he must be bought ! Every ta ilor in Ireland must go to workto fix him up a gown as Chief Baron , or Master of the Rolls.

The experiment fa iled. O’Connel l could not be bribed .

They had as w ell have gone about to measure for a gow n one

of their old Norse giants, or sent their ta i lors to draw the i rtape - lines about the rock - loined gi rth of old Scarig,

or Holyhead, w here they plant their everla st ing feet in the suds of the

sea , and l i ft their giant heads in to the tumultuous clouds of

an Irish sky ! Another unpurchasable ora tor had been bornin Ireland , w ho could not be t empted by a place , a peerage , ora pension .

“

Yes,” replied he ,

“

I w i ll take a bribe—and mybribe is a Repea l of the Un ion !As an Irish democra t , O

’

Connel l believed in t he ult ima tesovereignty of the people , as recogn i z ed by t he glorious Revolut ion of 1 688 ; tha t roya lty w as a trust, and rulers respon

sible for their good fa ith ; that every subject w ho pa id tributeand a llegiance to t he government, w as ent itled to representat ion and to a vote in the election of i t s admin istrators. H e

w as, nevertheless, an admirer and supporter of t he Britishconstitution , because founded on t he w i l l of the English people, and best adapt ed to their ow n circumstances and history .

W e are partia l,”sa id he ,

“ to a legitima te and w ell -modelledmona rchy in an hereditary l ine , and w e , a t the same time,reverence the ma jesty of the people . While w e bea r a true


a llegiance to the British constitution ,w e will say tha t li fe is

not w orth enjoyment w ithout t he blessings of freedom.

”

Thus w e see tha t O’Connel l w as a un iversa l democra t .

H e recogn i z ed t he ultimate sovereign ty of t he people everywhere.

But beyond question ,the crown ing glory of Dan iel O’

Con

nell’s ca reer consisted in h is grea t doctrine of Pacific Agitat ion . It w as this doctrine w hich gave him rank as a d iscov

erer, and the author of a new d ispensation in the religion of

polit ica l li fe , w hich is even now slow ly, but surely, w orkingout the redempt ion of Ire land , the progress of w h ich is re

t arded only w hen i ts sp irit is violated , and i t s precepts de

pa rted from. T0 transfer the battle from the plane of bruteforce to tha t of reason and conscience ; to throw upon i t s

lega lly constituted conservators and gua rdians the responsib i l i ty for any breach of the peace ; to cause the self - restra intof the multitude to impeach the impatience of judicia l tribuna ls ; to assemble a na tion in tents, and make t he rostrumgrea ter than t he ba rricade ; to ra ise up w a lls of defence aroundancient liberties by a voice more musica l than Amphion

’s

golden lyre , w h ich ra ised the w a lls of Thebes ; this w as t he

grea t triumph of Dan iel O’Connel l .

Betw een Wol fe Tone and John Mitchell ; betw een RobertEmmett and Smith O’

Brien ; betw een’

98- and

’

48,he ra ised

up by the inspiration of this gospel of pacific agitation the

magnificent continent of Emancipated Ireland, like a beautiful island risen out of the sea .

Modern historians and philosophers may ta lk of t he frothof oratory,

”and t he decline of the power of eloquence ; never

t heless, a great orator w ith a grea t thought behind him is stillt he most potentia l engine of truth w hich this planet can set in

motion . The pen is mightier than the sw ord, but the tongueis grea ter than the pen .

From Socra tes to t he Saviour of mankind ; from Periclesto Patrick Henry ; from Demosthenes to Dan iel O’

Connel l ,

eloquence—spoken thought—has ruled t he w orld ! The voiceof Dan iel O’

Connel l in beha lf of liberty and aga inst violencew as needed for a l l ages. It w as an everlasting tocsin and an

eterna l protest . It w as to oratory wha t the Marseilla ise”

is to song. Nay , it surpassed the hymn of France, because i ts


immorta l refra in w as not To Arms,” but , to the tribuna l ofReason ,

” which is first peaceable, and in time omn ipotent .

H is method as a reformer w as pacific agitation , which , asdefined and limited by him,

w as to t he conflict between libert yand oppression w ha t t he invention of printing w as to t he

battle betw een lea rn ing and ignorance . Many of his proposedreforms w ere regarded , in h is ow n day , as chimerica l ; but sa idhe :

“

The history of the w orld is not yet over !”And as this

history has been un folded , one by one, on i t s curt a in,have his

ca rtoons revea led themselves : one by one have they bornetestimony to this wonderful genius and immorta lity of touch.

How a historian and dia lectician , as able as Mr. Lecky, candoubt h is benefi cent influence upon the destiny of Irelandseems beyond comprehension , and can on ly be accounted foras the frui t of a Trin ity College gra ft upon Irish stock, transplanted and cultivated in the atmosphere of a London fog.

I f I reland has rea li z ed any reforms a t a l l during t he presentcentury, they are undoubtedly attributable to t he agita tion ofO

’

Connel l . W e must measure h is influence, not by t he re

sult of Ca thol ic Emanc ipat ion a lone , but by comparing t he

pol icy and op in ions of Lord John Russell , w hom he left inpow er in 1 846 , w ith those Of Pitt , w hom he found in Ofli cein 1 800; and having comprehended the measure of this ad

vance , let us compare t he v iew s of Russell in 1 846 w ith thoseof Wil l iam E . Gladstone in 1 886, and i t w ill be found tha tthe trend of public opin ion upon Irish questions has beenstead i ly forw ard tow ards the rea li z a tion of those principlesw hich Dan iel O’

Connel l first , among public men of h is day ,

held forth and ma inta ined . Many of these principles, thendenounced as ex t reme and violent, have become as un iversa llyaccept ed as t he Copern ican sy st em .

There is a marked d iEerence betw een the estimates madeof O

’Connel l be fore 1 829 and t hose made a fter tha t da t e .

The sketch of Mr. Richard La lor Sh iel , made in 1 823. is of

O’

Connel l the barrister simp ly, and has noth ing of int erestabout O’

Connel l the L iberator.

“

O’Conne l l

’

s style ,”says he ,

is vigorous and cop ious, but incorrect . The w ant of com

pact ness in h is periods, how ever, I a t t ribute chiefly to ina t ten



have al l test ified to the unriva lled power of h is eloquence.

Upon such testimony, there fore, as ought to sa tisfy history,I think w e should have no difli cul ty in reaching t he conclusion tha t as an orator for t he popular assembly, O

’connel l

had no equa l since Demosthenes. For tempora ri ly movingt he multitude, perhaps Henry or Otis w as his equal ; but for

permanently inspiring a people, no man but Demosthenes w ash is riva l .Never w as a rOle more d ifli cul t than O’

connell’s. Go as

far as he might , he fell short of the expecta tions of his ow nchurch, while, however moderate his demands, the Orange faction and t he advocates of Protestant ascendency stood readyto commit him to the Tower . “Would to God , he excla imsin a letter to Dr. McHa le of Tuam,

“ I could have your Graceand Dr. Murray understand each other !” Later on, the youngIrelanders undertook to resuscitate the old doctrine of violence, which he had devoted h is l i fe to eradicate from the

Irish heart . Desp ite of them, he held out .

“ I will not take,”

he sa id,“nor a llow to be taken , one step inconsistent with

law .

”

Just out of prison, he w as applauded when he entered theHouse of Commons ; a rad ica l reformer and a democrat , hereceived three votes for the throne of Belgium ; a privatesubject, he granted his autograph a t the request of a Kingwhom he admired, but he refused it to an Emperor whom he

despised ; a Roman Ca tholic, he w as endorsed by D issenters,and embraced by the Quakers ; in an intemperate age, he w as

strict ly sober ; a convict, he w as eulogi z ed by the judge w ho

sentenced him ; the grea test pacifi ca tor of h is age , he w as

bound over in tw o thousand pounds to keep the peace ! Suchw as the strange, a lmost incredible career of Dan iel O’

Con

nell, t he L ibera tor, the Repea ler, the Agita tor, the Orator, t heGrea t Commoner, and the Greatest Irishman .


THE LAND W HERE W E W ERE DREAMINGFrom ‘

The Wrea t h of Eglan t ine.

’

Fa ir were our nation’s visions, and as grandAs ever floated out of fancy - land ;Children were w e in simple fa ith,But god

- like children,w hom nor death,

Nor threat of danger drove from honor’s pa thIn the land where w e were dreaming !

Proud were our men as pride of birth could render,As violets our women pure and tender ;And when they spoke, their voices

’ thrillAt evening hushed the whip-

poor- willAt morn the mocking bird w as mute and st ill,

In the land where w e were dreaming !

And w e had graves that covered more of glory,Than ever taxed the lips of ancient story ;And in our dream w e wove the threadOf principles for which had bled,And snEered long our ow n immorta l dead,


Tho m our land w e had both bond and free,Both were content , and so God let them be ;

Till Northern glances, slanting down,

With envy viewed our harvest sunBut l itt le reeked w e

, for w e still slept on,


Our sleep grew troubled, and our dreams grew wild ;Red meteors flashed across our heaven’s field ;Crimson the Moon ; between the TwinsBarbed a rrowsflew in circling l anesOf light ; red Comets tossed their fiery manes

O’er the land where w e were dreaming !


Dow n from her an gle height smiled L iberty ,And w aved her hand in Sign of vict ory ;The world approved, and everyw here ,Except where growled the Russian beer,The brave, the good and just gave us thei r prayer,

For the land where w e were dreaming !

H igh o’er our hoa ds a starry flag w as seen ,

Whose fi eld w as blanched, and Spotl ess in it s sheen ;Chiva lry’s cross i t s union bea rs,And by his sea rs ea ch vet ’ran sw ea rsTo bear it on in t riumph through the w ars,

In the land w here w e w ere dreaming !

We fondly thought a Governmen t w as oursW e cha ll enged pla ce among t he world

’s grea t pow ers ;

W e tal k’d in sleep of rank, commission,Until so li fe - like grew the vision ,

Tha t he w ho da red to doubt but met derision,In the land where w e were dreaming !

A figure came among us as w e sleptAt first he knelt , then slow ly rose and wept ;Then ga thering up a thousand Spea rs,He sw ept across the field of Mars,Then bowed farewell , and w a lked behind t he stars,

From the land where w e were dreaming !

W e looked aga in, another figure stillGave hOpe , and nerved each ind ividua l will ;Erect he stood, as clothed w ith pow er ;Sel f - poised , he seemed to rule the hour,With firm , majestic sw ay—of strengt h a tow er,

I n t he land where w e w ere dreaming !

As while great Jove, in bronz e, a w arder god,Ga z ed eastward from t he Forum where he stood,Rome felt herself secure and freeSo R ichmond, w e , on guard for thee ,Beheld a bronz ed hero, god - like Lee,

In t he land where w e were dreaming !



THE W IND CHIMED LOW BY THE DEEPW AVE’

S FLOW

From ‘The Wrea t h of Eglan t ine.

’

The wind chimed low by t he deep wave’s flow,

As I strayed wi th my blue - eyed Lora ,And the tw ilight’s gleam fell over t he streamOf the winding Tuscarora .

O softer far than you pa le sta rW as the melting glance of Lora ,

And her voice, like a bird, through the stillness stirredThe dream of Tuscarora .

Now the Whip- poor- will is repea ting sti llH is chant to Pan or Flora,

But in fancy oft a sound more softFloats over Tuscarora .

MY THOUGHT GROW S HAZ Y W ITH THE

SEASON’

S TOUCH

From ‘The Wrea th of Eglan t ine .

My thought grows ha z y with the season’s touch

For this is Indian Summer, loved so muchBy bards, w ho set to most mel l ifluent rhymeTheir hymns to Nature, in the olden time .

The sun, a day - born moon, shines dim through smoke ;The crows that clamor in the w ilted oak ,With many a darting and defiant mawk,Move not t he rufli es of t he lordly hawk.

.The driven shingles, echoing o’er the hills,

Betoken care for coming Winter’s ills ;Only the red - bird’s left to greet the mornAt eve , t he wa in brings in t he golden corn .

The thirst to see thee—simply see—no more !Comes like some new and unnamed passion o

’er

My soul, and makes it gloomier than the mistWhich stea ls, like un formed dreams, from out t he West !

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Southern Literature - Forgotten Books