foundation of Christ and his Apostles! It is a part of our creed,
that the Church of Christ is, _ex se_, a missionary institution;
that this character is a radical and essential element of its
organization; that it is a fundamental law; and that the appropriate
motto of her banner is, 'Go ye, and teach all nations, baptizing them
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'
And it is no ungrateful thought, that at least one branch of the
Christian Church of this country, has, by her own public and solemn
acts, recognised this principle. We believe, moreover, that the
missionary character of the Church, under the divine commission, is
so comprehensive as to embrace every mode of action in the world for
moral and religious reform, which is in any case a duty to undertake,
at home or abroad, on the land or on the sea. The Church knows no
home but heaven, and has no narrower field of earthly enterprise
than the world. The only question of duty, at any given time, is:
'Where, by what means, in what forms, and by what measures, in
specific directions, she can most economically distribute her efforts
for the speediest attainment of the grand and ultimate designs
of Christianity?' What we call 'home,' in the narrowness of our
feelings, is nothing to her, except that she commands and nourishes
all the virtues that are appropriate to our limited capacities. Thus
much for the declaration of our theory of the missionary work; and
the deduction is obvious, that it belongs to the Church to supervise
it in all its forms.
But the arrant religious propensity of our time and country, has
seemed to us to be characterized by running races in this, that,
and the other specific direction, just as the impulse may be given
by some mountebank, or some obscure coterie of mountebanks, who may
happen to have taken the start, and raised the cry of 'Onward!' And
for the time being, the whole troop in the chase are on the same
hobby, are completely absorbed in the same object, and would have
all the world believe that if this can be gained, all is gained;
if lost, all is lost. If their watch-word were to be universally
heeded, every other interest of the Church would be abandoned. At
one time, and with one class, Foreign Missions are the hobby, and
take the lead; at another time, and with another class, Home Missions
enjoy a like prëeminence; next, Bible Societies are every thing;
at another time, Religious Tracts are going to save the world;
Education Societies plead for their supremacy; then Temperance, and
in its train, Tee-totalism; Sunday School Unions, too, must have
their turn; next, Abolitionism turns men's brains, distracts the
country, and shakes the social fabric; and though we might extend
this list, indefinitely, we will just say, last not least, Moral
Reform, technically so called, for decency's sake--the extravagance
of all extravagances, the incredible of incredibles--seems to have
more charms in proportion as it is more disgusting and abhorrent,
and because, forsooth, it belongs to the class of things of which
an apostle says, it is a shame to speak! None can deny that most of
these, with others that might be named, are important objects for the
combined action of the Church. Far be it from us to depreciate them.
Our remonstrance lies against making any one, or any class of them,
a hobby, to the detriment of others, as has been the fashion of the
time.
And not only is there a propensity to run races of this kind,
outstripping all propriety and reason, but the forms and principles
of organization have often, if not generally, been no less the
creatures of sudden and inconsiderate impulse. The result is, that
the great and leading religious, and reforming enterprises of the
country, claiming public patronage and support, are as effectually
divorced from the Church, as the Church is from the State; as if the
alliance were as dangerous, and the connection as unnatural. In their
turn these particular forms become so much the objects of preference
and idolatry, that the Church, as such, is thrown into the back
ground, and forced to stand by, an idle spectator of the great work
intrusted by her Divine Head to her guidance and control. Her powers
and duties are usurped. A state of society has arisen, that would
seem to be entirely at variance with the design of Christianity.
It is the natural product of that spirit of innovation which is
in part our design to illustrate. It opens a door, and presents
the strongest temptations--temptations which we think will prove
irresistible--to make a trade of trickery on a scale commensurate
with the influence that is acquired; and for the rëenactment of many
painful scenes, which have been a thousand times told in the history
of the Church. Tricks are already apparent in the operation of this
species of machinery; it is extensively based upon tricks; it could
not last a year, nor go an inch, without them.
Who would have imagined, that the public mind of this country could
be brought to endure, and extensively to patronize, as an engine
of benevolence and Christian enterprise, such a loathsome and
demoralizing institution as the Moral Reform Society? And yet their
agents can go over the land, and form auxiliaries, particularly among
the ladies! any where and every where. Pray tell us, if any body be
so wise, what causes have been in operation to produce such a state
of things. Let us not be ignorant, that these matters are connected
with a general state of society, and grow out of it. Of this there
can be no question. A scheme so gross, so offensive to decency, so
absolutely vile, can be palmed upon the community, and baptized as
immaculate! And so immaculate, that it can live and walk in the midst
of pollution, without being defiled! As was to be expected, it has
given birth to a new theory in morals, and now stands based and erect
upon it, viz: that the way to be pure, is to give virtue the stern
test of familiarity with impurity; that 'vice to be hated needs but
to be seen,' keeping back the sequence of the poet, and jumping to
the opposite conclusion, that the more it is seen, the better; that
the most shocking features and horrid scenes of midnight debauchery
can be exposed, without a veil, to the public eye, with impunity;
that it ought to be a part of common and universal education; that
the sexes can sit and talk together of these matters, without sin,
and without peril! Let any one consult the weekly journal of this
society, if we dare recommend such a task--for they have a journal,
and apparently a prosperous one--and he will be astonished at its
doctrines; at the confidence with which they are announced and
defended; and at the reports of success coming in from all parts
of the land. He will hear them affirm, that they only are radical
reformers; that the fate of society depends on them; that they go to
the bottom of corruption. That they go to the bottom, we believe;
that they come out pure, is another question. That their specific is
a cure-all, we happen to know is the common proclamation of all such
charlatanry.
The doings of this society are an instructive lesson. The disclosures
which they are in the habit of making, operate as a temptation to
the very crimes thus laid open to the public eye, and are likely to
conduct multitudes to ruin, who never would have dreamed of such
scenes, except as they have been brought to view by such unfortunate
and guilty instrumentality. On this subject, certainly, ignorance
is innocence; knowledge is death. The warm blood of youth, and the
irradicable passions of our nature, cannot be addressed by these
features of vice, without sympathy and peril. The only way of safety,
is to keep such topics for ever out of mind; in diversion; in useful
and innocent occupations.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Since the above paragraph was penned, the Presbyterian Church has
actually come to a violent schism.
STANZAS.
I.
SICK of the crowd, the toil, the strife,
Sweet Nature, how I turn to thee!
Seeking for renovated life,
By brawling brook and shady tree.
II.
I knew thy rocks had spells of old,
To change the wanderer's wo to calm;
And, in thy waters, clear and cold,
My heated brow would seek its balm.
III.
I bent beneath thy ancient oak,
I sought for slumber in its shade,
And, as the clouds above me broke,
I dream'd to win the boon I pray'd.
IV.
For light, a blessed light, was given,
Far streaming round me from above;
And in the deep, deep vaults of heaven,
I saw a smile of peace and love.
V.
And through the long, long summer hours,
When every bird was on his wing,
I sought, among thy thousand flow'rs,
Renewal of life's secret spring;
VI.
That sacred freshness of the heart,
That made youth's tide flow smooth and strong,
When, yet untaught by shame or art,
We feared no guile, and felt no wrong.
VII.
My soul grew young in early dreams,
And 'gainst the passing time I strove,
Most glad to yield all human schemes,
For one pure, boyish hour of love.
VIII.
And who but Nature's self could yield
The boon I sought, the prayer I made--
Throned in her realm of wood and field,
Of rocky realm and haunted shade?
IX.
Who but that magic Queen, whose sway
Drives Winter from his path of strife;
While all her thousand fingers play,
With bud and bird, in games of life?
X.
To her I turn'd--yet turn'd in vain;
A hopeless discontent I bear;
I snap, at each remove, some chain,
Yet never snap the chain I wear!
XI.
Yet if the wizard be--whose pow'r
May set my heart and passions free,
And still restore youth's perish'd flow'r,
And hope's gay season--thou art she.[3]
XII.
A kindred life with these I ask--
Not beauty, not the scent we seek;
But in thy sunshine let me bask,
My heart as glowing as my cheek.
XIII.
An idle heart, that would not heed
The chiding voice of duty come,
To take the soul, new-nerved and freed,
Back to close task and gloomy room.
XIV.
Thou, Nature, that magician be!
Give me the old-time peace--the joy
That warmed my heart, and made me free,
A wild, but not a wayward boy.
XV.
And I will bless thee with a song,
As fond as hers--that idle bird--
That sings above me all day long,
As if she knew I watch'd and heard.
W. GILMORE SIMMS.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] There is some confounding of the genders in this verse, the only
defence of which is, possibly, that passage in Milton, who takes a
similar license:
----'_His_ form had not yet lost
All _her_ original brightness,' etc.
EDS. KNICKERBOCKER.
RANDOM PASSAGES
FROM ROUGH NOTES OF A VISIT TO ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE,
SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY.
NUMBER FOUR.
NOTWITHSTANDING the flattering invitation from Mr. G----, (of
the agreeable party I had the honor and pleasure of joining in
the Highland tour,) business called me speedily to London, and I
therefore took berth in the 'Caledonia' steamer, and reluctantly bade
adieu to my hospitable friends, and to
'Edina! Scotia's darling seat,
With all her palaces and towers.'
The London steam-packets sail from New-Haven, one of the sea-ports
of Edinburgh. They are very large, and are built and rigged like
ships; with a fine dining-cabin on deck, _over_ that of the berths.
The fare from Edinburgh to London, (about five hundred miles by
water,) is three pounds, meals included; and they make the passage
in from forty-two to fifty hours. A good library in the cabin served
to relieve the tediousness of the trip; and I found, on reference,
that I had visited or passed over many of the scenes described in
the Waverly Novels; and what a gallery of pictures do those works
exhibit! They are too familiar, however, to need any reference.
One of the principal charms of Scott's fictions, as has been often
remarked, is the accuracy and truth to nature, both of his landscapes
and his characters. He studied _scenery_ and _localities_, in the
course of his frequent excursions, as well as individual traits; and
as he has himself told us, he had an original in his eye for most of
his apparently imaginary portraits.
As we sail along the coast, we have a distant view of several
remarkable places. Preston-Pans, where the chevalier and his
highlanders routed the royal army, under Sir John Cope; Dunbar, and
its castle; Dunglass Castle; Berwick-upon-Tweed, near the 'Border;'
Lindisfame, or Holy Island, which figures in 'Marmion;' Flodden Field
lies a few miles from the coast; and Alnwick and Warkworth Castles,
'Home of the Percy's high-born race,'
are but a few miles from the Border, on the English side. Carlisle
and its famous castle, and Gretna-Green, are more in the interior.
The finest small views of Scottish scenery may be found in 'Caledonia
Illustrated,' now publishing, edited by Dr. Beattie.
On board our steam-ship, I was amused at the speculations of my
neighbors at the table, respecting a person at the other end of it,
whom they finally pronounced a yankee, from the sure evidence of his
chewing tobacco. They never suspected me, it seems, for one of the
barbarians, and looked rather blank, when I spoke to him as a fellow
countryman. He was a pretty considerable thorough-bred down-easter;
and it was not strange that John Bull detected him.
* * * We landed at the East India docks, five or six miles from St.
Paul's, and considering myself pretty well informed in the law, and
not easily to be cheated, I hired a hack, without saying a word as
to the price, and had the pleasure of being forced to pay five times
the lawful fare, because, forsooth, the law did not extend down the
river, and moreover, it was a _glass coach_.
* * * * *
* * * THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, which has existed since the year 886,
comprises no less than twenty-one different colleges, each distinct
and independent, with a president and faculty; but united in a sort
of federal compact, and governed by a Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor,
the latter being the acting and responsible officer. The Duke of
Wellington, as you well know, at present fills the Chancellor's
chair. The college buildings are nearly all of the Tudor style of
architecture, and most of them, indeed, were erected in the reigns of
Henry VII. and VIII., and of Elizabeth; and they bear now a stately
and venerable aspect. They are in the quadrangular form, covering
two or three acres, with a large area in the centre. Several of them
front on High-street, which is considered one of the most imposing in
Europe.
I had no letters to Oxford; and my kind reception by Mr. and Mrs.
T----, with only a self-introduction, gave me a most favorable
impression of English hospitality. They freely invited me to their
house, and took pains to show me every thing of interest. On Sunday
I attended their church, which boasts no little antiquity, having
been founded by Alfred the Great, in the eighth century. Its style of
architecture is of course Anglo-Saxon.
In the afternoon, I went with Mr. T---- to the beautiful chapel of
Magdalen college, to hear the _chanting_, which is performed by a
choir of boys, in the most perfect and touching manner. It was much
the most beautiful, and, as I thought, _appropriate_, church music I
had ever heard. The effect can scarcely be imagined by one who has
only heard the Episcopal chants in our churches. In this chapel is a
painting by Carlo Dolci, valued at eleven thousand guineas! Addison
was educated at Magdalen college; and his favorite walk, on the banks
of the Isis, is yet called 'Addison's Walk.' Gibbon, whose stately
style is so strongly in contrast with the classic ease and purity of
the 'Spectator,' took his degree here, also. The 'crack' college, in
size, wealth, the extent of its library, and gallery of paintings,
and the aristocracy of its members, is _Christ Church_. Most of its
graduates are sons of the nobility, and the higher classes; but yet
it was in this college I was shown the room occupied by Dr. Johnson,
who was certainly a plebeian, albeit an inveterate tory.
But I will not inflict on you a prosing account of this renowned
University, or a catalogue of her sons; are they not all written in
books? I must say a word or two, howbeit, of the two big _libraries_;
for, as friend HARPER says, 'that is somewhat in my line.' The
Radcliffe library is in a circular building, with a huge dome, and
an elegant interior. It contains, beside its one hundred and fifty
thousand volumes, a fine collection of casts and busts, such as the
Laöcoon, Apollo Belvidere, Warwick Vase, etc. The _Bodleian_ is
still more extensive. It has three hundred thousand volumes, and
a large picture-gallery, with many noble paintings, and models of
ancient temples. These immense repositories of literary treasures,
and gems of art, are alone well worth a visit to Oxford. But I could
not help thinking, that the world would not be much the wiser for a
greater part of these books. It strikes us practical yankees, that
books were made for use, rather than to fill up long shelves, to
be looked at only on the outside, and the mass of them never to be
opened, even by the 'favored few.' Among the _rarities_ which they,
show here, are an Ethiopic MS. version of the Book of Enoch, recently
brought from Africa, and Queen Elizabeth's Latin exercise-book, in
her own hand-writing. Connected with the Bodleian, is a hall of
ancient sculpture, containing about eighty statues, which have been
brought from Greece and Italy. Near by, are kept the celebrated
Arundelian marbles; and here I saw the original Parian Chronicle,
made two hundred and sixty-four years before Christ! and of course
now somewhat illegible. This chronicle, you know, was an important
authority in ancient chronology. I must not forget the 'Theatre,' an
edifice not for dramatic performances, but the college anniversaries,
which we call 'commencements.' This extensive hall is elegantly
decorated, and well contrived for a large audience. It was here that
the Emperors of Russia and Austria, etc., were pompously received,
when they visited England, in 1815. The connoisseur in paintings will
find ample entertainment in Oxford; and if you come here, especially
do not omit seeing the altar-piece in All-Soul's chapel, a most
exquisite 'Magdalen,' with an expression of countenance I can never
forget. A few miles from Oxford, is the splendid palace and park of
Blenheim, given by the nation to the great Duke of Marlborough, for
his military services.
* * * * *
WARWICK CASTLE.--It were as well, perhaps, for me to say nothing of
these places which a thousand and one tourists have already made
familiar to you. As to this; Kenilworth, Stratford-on-Avon, and
indeed the European tour, I know the subject has been pretty well
used up, and scribblers must now be content to tell an old story
as best they may. I might tell you how I went down to this famous
castle, and knocked at the porter's lodge, and how he took me within
it, to see the walking-stick of Guy, Earl of Warwick, nine feet
high, and his 'porridge-pot' of iron, which would contain half a
barrel!--how he sent me up a long circular path-way, cut through a
solid rock, to the castle itself; how I marvelled at its vastness,
and passed under the towers into the area; how I wandered about,
bewildered with the number of entrances to the huge pile, on all
sides, but finally ventured one, and got into a chapel, without being
challenged; how they took me through a range of gorgeous apartments,
extending three hundred and thirty-three feet in a line, on only one
side of the castle; and all the princely furniture, the tables of
inlaid brass and precious stones; the rare paintings and sculpture
which fill these halls; the antique armory, cut out of the thickness
of the castle walls; the earl's family, and how naughty he is; and
sundry other matters, may be buried in oblivion. You are aware that
this is much the finest, perhaps the _only_ one remaining entire, of
the old English baronial castles. Its walls have been standing eight
hundred years; and yet they seem imperishable. A novice like myself
is 'taken aback' with the grandeur of these lordly abodes.
* * * * *
THE change of the scene to the ruins of KENILWORTH, in the course of
an hour, naturally led to instructive recollections of the past. Here
was once a castle as extensive and impregnable as the one we had just
left; but now the lofty towers are fast falling to decay; and the
sheep are grazing in peace and quiet, where once all the magnificence
of the Elizabethan age was concentrated. I passed the same portal
that admitted the great Eliza and her train, when she came to honor
the princely entertainments of her favorite Leicester. The ruins
are extremely picturesque; and they prove that the castle was of
prodigious extent. They forcibly remind one that
'The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Shall, like an unsubstantial pageant faded,
Or like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a rack behind.'
* * * * *
WELL--like all dutiful travellers, I of course added my name to the
list of illustrious pilgrims in the Album at Stratford-on-Avon. The
birth-place and the tomb of Shakspeare! Who would go to England,
and pass them by without a visit? What a host of grandissimos,
beside the multitude of humbler gentry, have deigned to worship at
this intellectual shrine!--or, in other words, to follow the old
cicerone up those narrow back stairs to the lowly apartment where
the Bard of Nature was cradled, and there to scribble their names on
the rude walls, or in the goodly quarto. There I saw the autographs
of 'William Henry, Duke of Clarence,' 'Walter Scott,' 'Countess
Guicciolli,' 'Coleridge,' 'Charles Lamb,' and scores of similar
names, beside an army from the United States. I copied some of the
many inscriptions in the 'Ollapod' of an album, which you may like to
have:
'Of mighty Shakspeare's birth, the room we see,
That where he died, in vain to find, we try;
Useless the search; for all immortal He,
And they who are immortal, never die.
WASHINGTON IRVING.'
'Shakspeare! Thy named rever'd is no less,
By us, who often _reckon_, sometimes _guess_;
Though England claims the glory of thy birth,
None more appreciate thy page's worth,
Nor more admire thy scenes well acted o'er,
Than we of 'states unborn' in ancient lore.
JAMES H. HACKETT.'
The esteemed and lamented CARTER:
'1825, Nov. 18.
N. H. CARTER, }
H. J. ECKFORD.}
'Think not, Britannia, all the tears are thine,
Which flow, a tribute to this hallowed shrine;
Pilgrims from every land shall hither come,
And fondly linger round the poet's tomb.'
Not being 'wise above what is written,' I shall spare you a rhapsody
of my own on the occasion. To tell the truth, as ill-luck would have
it, I could not get up a fit of enthusiasm. I was not inspired even
by the _impressive_ little sign which is poked out over the door, and
tells the heedless urchin of Stratford, as well as the eager pilgrim
from foreign climes, that
'The immortal SHAKSPEARE
Was born in this house.'
And then to be bowed up stairs and down,
'For only 'sixpence sterling!''
'T was cheap, to be sure; but there was something droll in the idea.
Of course, I spent half a crown beside, for seeing the tomb in the
church, which, by-the-way, is a fine old edifice of its kind; and
mine host has also shown me, _gratis_, the mulberry tree in his
garden, which was planted by the great bard himself. They are going
to have a 'grand jubilee' here, shortly; and an oration is to be
delivered by somebody whose name I have forgotten; but as he styles
himself _the_ 'American Tragedian,' you will know, I suppose, to whom
this title belongs.[4]
* * * * *