Egerton had thrown himself at full length on the sofa, a position
exceedingly rare with him; and about his whole air and manner, as Levy
entered, there was something singularly different from that stateliness
of port common to the austere legislator. The very tone of his voice was
different. It was as if the statesman--the man of business--had
vanished; it was rather the man of fashion and the idler, who, nodding
languidly to his visitor, said, "Levy, what money can I have for a
year?"
"The estate will bear very little more. My dear fellow, that last
election was the very devil. You can not go on thus much longer."
"My dear fellow!" Baron Levy hailed Audley Egerton as "my dear fellow."
And Audley Egerton, perhaps, saw nothing strange in the words, though
his lip curled.
"I shall not want to go on thus much longer," answered Egerton, as the
curl on his lip changed to a gloomy smile. "The estate must, meanwhile,
bear L5000 more."
"A hard pull on it. You had really better sell."
"I can not afford to sell at present. I can not afford men to say,
'Audley Egerton is done up--his property is for sale.'"
"It is very sad when one thinks what a rich man you have been--and may
be yet!"
"Be yet! How?"
Baron Levy glanced toward the thick mahogany doors--thick and impervious
as should be the doors of statesmen. "Why, you know that, with three
words from you, I could produce an effect upon the stocks of three
nations, that might give us each a hundred thousand pounds. We would go
shares."
"Levy," said Egerton coldly, though a deep blush overspread his face,
"you are a scoundrel; that is your look out. I interfere with no man's
tastes and consciences. I don't intend to be a scoundrel myself. I have
told you that long ago."
The Baron laughed, without evincing the least displeasure.
"Well," said he, "you are neither wise nor complimentary; but you shall
have the money. But yet, would it not be better," added Levy, with
emphasis, "to borrow it, without interest, of your friend L'Estrange?"
Egerton started as if stung.
"You mean to taunt me, sir!" he exclaimed passionately. "I accept
pecuniary favors from Lord L'Estrange! I!"
"Tut, my dear Egerton, I dare say my Lord would not think so ill now of
that little act in your life which--"
"Hold, hold!" exclaimed Egerton, writhing. "Hold!"
He stopped, and paced the room, muttering in broken sentences, "To blush
before this man! Chastisement, chastisement!"
Levy gazed on him with hard and sinister eyes. The minister turned
abruptly.
"Look you, Levy," said he, with forced composure--"you hate me--why, I
know not. I have never injured you--never avenged the inexpiable wrong
you did me."
"Wrong!--you a man of the world! Wrong! Call it so if you will then," he
added shrinkingly, for Audley's brow grew terrible. "But have I not
atoned it? Would you ever have lived in this palace, and ruled this
country as one of the most influential of its ministers, but for my
management--my whispers to the wealthy Miss Leslie? Come, but for me
what would you have been--perhaps a beggar?"
"What shall I be now if I live? _Then_ I should not have been a beggar;
poor perhaps in money, but rich--rich in all that now leaves my life
bankrupt. Gold has not thriven with me; how should it. And this
fortune--it has passed for the main part into your hands. Be patient,
you will have it all ere long. But there is one man in the world who has
loved me from a boy, and woe to you if ever he learn that he has the
right to despise me!"
"Egerton, my good fellow," said Levy, with great composure, "you need
not threaten me, for what interest can I possibly have in tale-telling
to Lord L'Estrange? As to hating you--pooh! You snub me in private, you
cut me in public, you refuse to come to my dinners, you'll not ask me to
your own; still there is no man I like better, nor would more willingly
serve. When do you want the L5000?"
"Perhaps in one month, perhaps not for three or four. Let it be ready
when required."
"Enough; depend on it. Have you any other commands?"
"None."
"I will take my leave, then. By the by, what do you suppose the
Hazeldean rental is worth--net?"
"I don't know nor care. You have no designs upon _that_, too?"
"Well, I like keeping up family connections. Mr. Frank seems a liberal
young gentleman."
Before Egerton could answer, the baron had glided to the door, and,
nodding pleasantly, vanished with that nod.
Egerton remained standing on his solitary hearth. A drear, single man's
room it was, from wall to wall, despite its fretted ceilings and
official pomp of Bramah escritoires and red boxes. Drear and
cheerless--no trace of woman's habitation--no vestige of intruding,
happy children. There stood the austere man alone. And then with a deep
sigh he muttered, "Thank heaven, not for long--it will not last long."
Repeating those words, he mechanically locked up his papers, and pressed
his hand to his heart for an instant, as if a spasm had shot through it.
"So--I must shun all emotion!" said he, shaking his head gently.
In five minutes more, Audley Egerton was in the streets, his mien erect,
and his step firm as ever.
"That man is made of bronze," said a leader of the Opposition to a
friend as they rode past the minister. "What would I give for his
nerves!"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
THE OPERA.
BY THOMAS CARLYLE.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE LONDON KEEPSAKE:
"Dear P.--Not having any thing of my own which I could contribute
(as is my wish and duty) to this pious Adventure of yours, and not
being able in these hot busy days to get any thing ready, I decide
to offer you a bit of an Excerpt from that singular 'Conspectus of
England,' lately written, not yet printed, by Professor Ezechiel
Peasemeal, a distinguished American friend of mine. Dr. Peasemeal
will excuse my printing it here. His 'Conspectus,' a work of some
extent, has already been crowned by the Phi Beta Kappa Society of
Bunkum, which includes, as you know, the chief thinkers of the New
World and it will probably be printed entire in their
'Transactions' one day. Meanwhile let your readers have the first
taste of it; and much good may it do them and you!"--T. C.]
Music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among
the utterances allowed to man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near
to the Infinite; we look, for moments, across the cloudy elements, into
the eternal Sea of Light, when song leads and inspires us. Serious
nations, all nations that can still listen to the mandate of nature,
have prized song and music as the highest; as a vehicle for worship, for
prophecy, and for whatsoever in them was divine. Their singer was a
_vates_, admitted to the council of the universe, friend of the gods and
choicest benefactor to man.
Reader, it was actually so in Greek, in Roman, in Moslem, Christian,
most of all in Old-Hebrew times: and if you look how it now is, you will
find a change that should astonish you. Good Heavens, from a Psalm of
Asaph to a seat at the London Opera in the Haymarket, what a road have
men traveled! The waste that is made in music is probably among the
saddest of all our squanderings of God's gifts. Music has, for a long
time past, been avowedly mad, divorced from sense and fact; and runs
about now as an open Bedlamite, for a good many generations back,
bragging that she has nothing to do with sense and fact, but with
fiction and delirium only; and stares with unaffected amazement, not
able to suppress an elegant burst of witty laughter, at my suggesting
the old fact to her.
Fact nevertheless it is, forgotten, and fallen ridiculous as it may be.
Tyrtaeus, who had a little music, did not sing Barbers of Seville, but
the need of beating back one's country's enemies; a most _true_ song, to
which the hearts of men did burst responsive into fiery melody, followed
by fiery strokes before long. Sophocles also sang, and showed in grand
dramatic rhythm and melody, not a fable but a fact, the best he could
interpret it: the judgments of Eternal Deity upon the erring sons of
men. AEschylus, Sophocles, all noble poets were priests as well; and sang
the _truest_ (which was also the divinest) they had been privileged to
discover here below. To "sing the praise of God," that, you will find,
if you can interpret old words, and see what new things they mean, was
always, and will always be, the business of the singer. He who forsakes
that business, and, wasting our divinest gifts, sings the praise of
Chaos, what shall we say of him?
David, king of Judah, a soul inspired by divine music and much other
heroism, was wont to pour himself in song; he, with seer's eye and
heart, discerned the Godlike amid the Human; struck tones that were an
echo of the sphere-harmonies, and are still felt to be such. Reader, art
thou one of a thousand, able still to _read_ a Psalm of David, and catch
some echo of it through the old dim centuries; feeling far off, in thy
own heart, what it once was to other hearts made as thine? To sing it
attempt not, for it is impossible in this late time; only know that it
once was sung. Then go to the Opera, and hear, with unspeakable
reflections, what men now sing!
Of the Haymarket Opera my account, in fine, is this:--Lustres,
candelebras, painting, gilding at discretion: a hall as of the Caliph
Alraschid, or him that commanded the slaves of the Lamp; a hall as if
fitted up by the genies, regardless of expense. Upholstery, and the
outlay of human capital, could do no more. Artists, too, as they are
called, have been got together from the ends of the world, regardless
likewise of expense, to do dancing and singing, some of them even
geniuses in their craft. One singer in particular, called Coletti or
some such name, seemed to me, by the cast of his face, by the tones of
his voice, by his general bearing, so far as I could read it, to be a
man of deep and ardent sensibilities, of delicate intuitions, just
sympathies; originally an almost poetic soul, or man of _genius_ as we
term it; stamped by Nature as capable of far other work than squalling
here, like a blind Samson, to make the Philistines sport!
Nay, all of them had aptitudes, perhaps of a distinguished kind; and
must, by their own and other people's labor, have got a training equal
or superior in toilsomeness, earnest assiduity, and patient travail, to
what breeds men to the most arduous trades. I speak not of kings,
grandees, or the like show-figures; but few soldiers, judges, men of
letters, can have had such pains taken with them. The very ballet-girls,
with their muslin saucers round them, were perhaps little short of
miraculous; whirling and spinning there in strange mad vortexes, and
then suddenly fixing themselves motionless, each upon her left or right
great-toe, with the other leg stretched out at an angle of ninety
degrees; as if you had suddenly pricked into the floor, by one of their
points, a pair, or rather a multitudinous cohort, of mad restlessly
jumping and clipping scissors, and so bidden them rest, with opened
blades, and stand still, in the Devil's name! A truly notable motion;
marvelous, almost miraculous, were not the people there so used to it.
Motion peculiar to the Opera; perhaps the ugliest, and surely one of the
most difficult, ever taught a female creature in this world. Nature
abhors it; but Art does at least admit it to border on the impossible.
One little Cerito, or Taglioni the Second, that night when I was there,
went bounding from the floor as if she had been made of indian-rubber,
or filled with hydrogen gas, and inclined by positive levity to bolt
through the ceiling: perhaps neither Semiramis nor Catharine the Second
had bred herself so carefully.
Such talent, and such martyrdom of training, gathered from the four
winds, was now here, to do its feat and be paid for it. Regardless of
expense, indeed! The purse of Fortunatus seemed to have opened itself,
and the divine art of Musical Sound and Rhythmic Motion was welcomed
with an explosion of all the magnificences which the other arts, fine
and coarse, could achieve. For you are to think of some Rossini or
Bellini in the rear of it, too; to say nothing of the Stanfields, and
hosts of scene-painters, machinists, engineers, enterprisers--fit to
have taken Gibraltar, written the History of England, or reduced Ireland
into Industrial Regiments, had they so set their minds to it!...
Alas, and all of these notable or noticeable human talents, and
excellent perseverances and energies, backed by mountains of wealth, and
led by the divine art of Music and Rhythm vouchsafed by Heaven to them
and us, what was to be the issue here this evening? An hour's amusement,
not amusing either, but wearisome and dreary, to a high-dizened select
Populace of male and female persons, who seemed to me not much worth
amusing! Could any one have pealed into their hearts once, one true
thought, and glimpse of self-vision: "High-dizened, most expensive
persons, Aristocracy so-called, or _Best_ of the World, beware, beware
what proofs you give of betterness and bestness!" And then the salutary
pang of conscience in reply: "A select Populace, with money in its
purse, and drilled a little by the posture-maker: good Heavens! if that
were what, here and every where in God's Creation, I _am_? And a world
all dying because I am, and shew myself to be, and to have long been,
even that? John, the carriage, the carriage; swift! Let me go home in
silence, to reflection, perhaps to sackcloth and ashes!" This, and not
amusement, would have profited those high-dizened persons.
Amusement, at any rate, they did not get from Euterpe and Melpomene.
These two Muses, sent for, regardless of expense, I could see, were but
the vehicle of a kind of service which I judged to be Paphian rather.
Young beauties of both sexes use their opera-glasses, you could notice,
not entirely for looking at the stage. And it must be owned the light,
in this explosion of all the upholsteries and the human fine arts and
coarse, was magical; and made your fair one an Armida--if you liked her
better so. Nay, certain old Improper-Females (of quality), in their
rouge and jewels, even these looked some _reminiscence_ of enchantment;
and I saw this and the other lean domestic Dandy, with icy smile on his
old worn face; this and the other Marquis Singedelomme, Prince Mahogany,
or the like foreign Dignitary, tripping into the boxes of said females;
grinning there awhile, with dyed mustaches and macassar-oil graciosity,
and then tripping out again: and, in fact, I perceived that Coletti and
Cerito and the Rhythmic Arts were a mere accompaniment here.
Wonderful to see; and sad, if you had eyes! Do but think of it.
Cleopatra threw pearls into her drink, in mere waste; which was reckoned
foolish of her. But here had the Modern Aristocracy of men brought the
divinest of its Arts, heavenly Music itself; and piling all the
upholsteries and ingenuities that other human art could do, had lighted
them into a bonfire to illuminate an hour's flirtation of Singedelomme,
Mahogany, and these Improper-Persons! Never in Nature had I seen such
waste before. O Colletti, you whose inborn melody, once of kindred as I
judged to 'the Melodies eternal,' might have valiantly weeded out this
and the other false thing from the ways of men, and made a bit of God's
creation more melodious--they have purchased you away from that; chained
you to the wheel of Prince Mahogany's chariot, and here you make sport
for a macassar Singedelomme and his Improper-Females past the prime of
life! Wretched spiritual Nigger, oh, if you _had_ some genius, and were
not a born Nigger with mere appetite for pumpkin, should you have
endured such a lot? I lament for _you_, beyond all other expenses. Other
expenses are light; you are the Cleopatra's pearl that should not have
been flung into Mahogany's claret-cup. And Rossini, too, and Mozart, and
Bellini--Oh Heavens, when I think that Music too is condemned to be mad
and to burn herself, to this end, on such a funeral pile--your celestial
Opera-house grows dark and infernal to me! Behind its glitter stalks the
shadow of Eternal Death; through it too I look not 'up into the divine
eye,' as Richter has it, 'but down into the bottomless eyesocket--not up
toward God, Heaven, and the Throne of Truth, but too truly down toward
Falsity, Vacuity, and the dwelling-place of Everlasting Despair....
Good sirs, surely I by no means expect the Opera will abolish itself
this year or the next. But if you ask me, Why heroes are not born now,
why heroisms are not done now? I will answer you, It is a world all
calculated for strangling of heroisms. At every ingress into life, the
genius of the world lies in wait for heroisms, and by seduction or
compulsion unweariedly does its utmost to pervert them or extinguish
them. Yes; to its Hells of sweating tailors, distressed needle-women,
and the like, this Opera of yours is the appropriate Heaven! Of a truth,
if you will read a Psalm of Asaph till you understand it, and then come
hither and hear the Rossini-and-Coletti Psalm, you will find the ages
have altered a good deal....
Nor do I wish all men to become Psalmist Asaphs and fanatic Hebrews. Far
other is my wish; far other, and wider, is now my notion of this
Universe. Populations of stern faces, stern as any Hebrew, but capable
withal of bursting into inextinguishable laughter on occasion;--do you
understand that new and better form of character? Laughter also, if it
come from the heart, is a heavenly thing. But, at least and lowest, I
would have you a Population abhorring phantasms;--abhorring _unveracity_
in all things; and in your 'amusements,' which are voluntary and not
compulsory things, abhorring it most impatiently of all....
HIGH LIFE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
We gain the following glimpse of the manners of the upper classes in
England, four hundred years ago, from the journal of ELIZABETH
WOODVILLE, subsequently Lady Grey, and finally Queen of Edward IV.
Royalty _in petto_ seems to have taken, with a most refreshing
cordiality, to the avocations of baking and brewing, pig-tending,
poultry-feeding, and pony-catching.
"_Monday morning._--Rose at 4 o'clock, and helped Catherine to milk the
cows. Rachel, the dairy-maid, having scalded her hand in so bad a manner
the night before; made a poultice, and gave Robin a penny to get
something from the apothecary.
"6 _o'clock._--The buttock of beef too much boiled, and beer a little
stale; (mem) to talk to the cook about the first fault, and to mend the
other myself by tapping a fresh barrel immediately.
"7 _o'clock._--Went to walk with the lady my mother in the court-yard;
fed 25 men and women: chid Roger severely for expressing some ill-will
at attending us with some broken meat.
"8 _o'clock._--Went into the paddock behind the house with my maid
Dorothy; caught Thump, the little pony, myself; rode a matter of ten
miles without saddle or bridle.
"10 _o'clock._--Went to dinner. John Grey, a most comely youth; but what
is that to me? a virtuous maid should be entirely under the direction of
her parents. John ate but little, and stole a great many tender glances
at me. Said women could never be handsome in his eyes, who were not good
tempered. I hope my temper is not intolerable; nobody finds fault with
it but Roger, and he is the most disorderly youth in our house. John
Grey likes white teeth; my teeth are a pretty good color. I think my
hair is as black as jet--tho' I say it; and John Grey, if I mistake not,
is of the same opinion.
"11 _o'clock._--Rose from the table--the company all desirous of walking
in the field. John Grey lifted me over every stile, and twice squeezed
my hand with much vehemence. I can not say I should have much objection,
for he plays at prison bar as well as any of the country gentlemen; is
remarkably dutiful to his parents, my lord and lady, and never misses
church on Sunday.
"3 _o'clock._--Poor Farmer Robinson's house burnt down by accidental
fire. John Grey proposed a subscription among the company for the relief
of the farmer, and gave no less than four pounds with this benevolent
intent. (Mem) never saw him look so comely as at this moment.
"4 _o'clock._--Went to prayers.
"6 _o'clock._--Fed hogs and poultry.
MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS.
UNITED STATES.
The arrival of M. KOSSUTH has been the chief event, so far as public
interest is concerned, of the past month. The manifestations of popular
regard and admiration of which he has been the object, have been most
remarkable, and are entirely without example. That a foreigner, whose
name, five years ago, was not known to a thousand people in the United
States, and whose subsequent career has been upon a field so remote from
general knowledge and interest as the plains of Hungary, should have
aroused a degree of enthusiasm never equaled hitherto, is a phenomenon
which finds its only explanation in his extraordinary ability, and the
character of the heroic struggle in which he has been engaged. M.
KOSSUTH and his suite arrived in the American steamer Humboldt, on the
morning of Friday, December 4th. At the request of the Mayor of New York
he remained for a day on Staten Island, at the residence of Dr. Doane,
until the authorities of New York could prepare for his public reception
in that city. He was immediately waited upon by numerous deputations,
presenting addresses of congratulation and respect, to all of which he
made pertinent replies. The citizens of Staten Island gave him a public
reception on Friday, at which he spoke for half an hour;--he referred to
the general objects of his visit to the United States, which were, to
advance the interests of his own country; and repelled some of the
slanders which have been put in circulation against him. On Saturday he
entered the city of New York, amidst vast numbers of its people who had
gathered to meet him, and whose enthusiasm exceeded all bounds. He made
a brief address at Castle Garden, joined a great procession around the
city, and reviewed the troops at the City Hall. His address was merely
introductory to the purposes of his visit here. He expressed the warmest
gratitude for the interference of the United States to release him from
captivity, and for the reception with which he had been honored. He
spoke of the condition of his country with the deepest feeling, and
expressed a hope that the United States would extend their aid to
prevent foreign powers from crushing Hungary. He said he desired some
little time, not only to recruit his health, which had suffered somewhat
from his voyage, but also to examine the ground upon which he must stand
in his labors for his country.--The few days succeeding were passed in
comparative retirement, though on every day numerous deputations from
various parts of the country waited upon him to tender their
congratulations, and to invite him to their respective sections.
On the evening of Thursday, the 12th ult., the Corporation of New York
City entertained M. Kossuth at a splendid banquet, at which he made a
very long and very able speech, explaining the purposes which had
brought him to the United States, and the action which he desired should
be taken by the people, and vindicating their propriety and necessity.
He began by saying that Washington's alleged policy of non-interference
in European affairs was the greatest obstacle which he encountered to
the prosecution of his plans. Supposing even that such a doctrine had
been bequeathed by Washington, he insisted that it could not possibly be
applicable to the present greatly-changed condition of the country. But
Washington, in his judgment, had never recommended such a policy. He
only recommended neutrality: and there was a great difference between
these two ideas. Neutrality relates to a state of war between
belligerent powers: and in such contentions Washington wisely advised
his countrymen to maintain a position of neutrality. But
non-interference relates to the sovereign right of nations to dispose of
themselves; this right is a public law of nations--common to all, and,
therefore, put under the common guarantee of all. This law the citizens
of the United States must recognize, because their own independence
rests upon it. And they could not, therefore, remain indifferent to its
violation. Washington never advised such indifference, as his
instructions to our Minister in France, and his correspondence, show.
But even neutrality was recommended by Washington, not as a
Constitutional principle, of permanent obligation, but only as a
_policy_--suited to temporary exigencies--which pass away. Washington
himself declared, that his motive was to enable the country to gain
_time_, to settle and mature its institutions to that degree of strength
and consistency which would give it the command of its own fortunes. And
in a letter to Lafayette, he said, that twenty years of peace would
bring the country to that degree of power and wealth which would enable
it, in a just cause, to defy whatever power on earth. M. Kossuth then
proceeded to show, that in the history of this country this policy had
been steadily developed. He referred to the declaration of the
Government that they would not permit the interference of European
powers with the revolted Spanish Colonies. True, this doctrine was
restricted to this Continent, because it was so distant from Europe, and
because the Atlantic separated us from European nations. Both these
objections have been superseded. Europe is now nearer to us than many
parts of our own country: and the Atlantic now _connects_ Europe and
America, instead of separating them. Commercial interest required the
United States to prevent the overgrowth of Absolutism in Europe, because
that growth is, and must be hostile to intercourse with a republican
country. If these absolutist powers, moreover should become victorious
in Europe, and then united, they would aim a blow at Republicanism on
this Continent. M. Kossuth proceeded to quote from Mr. Fillmore's late
Message the declaration, that the deep interest we feel in every
struggle for liberty, "forbids that we should be indifferent to a case,
in which the strong arm of a foreign power is invoked to stifle public
sentiment, and repress the spirit of freedom in any country." He quoted
also similar declarations from Washington and from Mr. Webster, and
claimed that he had thus fully established, on American authority, that
all nations are bound to interfere to prevent any one nation from
interfering in the concerns of any other. He then considered the
objections that may be urged against carrying this principle into
effect. The objection that it is not our business, was met by the denial
of any nation to live only for itself: every nation is bound to obey the
Divine injunction--"Do unto others as ye would that others should do
unto you." The objection against such a step because it might lead to
war, was answered by saying, that it would _prevent_ war--that the union
of the United States and of England, in a protest against the
intervention of Russia in the affairs of Hungary, would be sufficient to
stop it, and to prevent war. He wished, therefore, that the people of
this country should adopt resolutions, requesting their Government to
take such a step. He sketched briefly the history of the Hungarian
struggle, and concluded by proposing three distinct measures which he
desired at the hands of the American people:--1st. A declaration,
conjointly with England, against the interference of Russia in the
affairs of Hungary; 2d. A declaration that the United States will
maintain commerce with European nations, whether they are in a state of
revolution or not; and 3d. That the people would recognize Hungary as an
independent nation. These three steps, taken by the people and
Government of the United States in concert with those of England, he was
confident, would prevent Russian intervention, and enable Hungary to
assert and maintain her position as one among the independent nations of
the earth. He also appealed to the people for aid to Hungary, in gifts
and loans of money. The speech was eminently argumentative and calm in
its tone. It was heard with universal pleasure and admiration.
On the evening of Monday, Dec. 15th, the Members of the Press in the
City of New York gave M. KOSSUTH a splendid banquet at the Astor House.
The large hall was very elegantly decorated, and a company of nearly
three hundred sat down at table. Mr. W. C. BRYANT presided. KOSSUTH
commenced his speech by speaking of the power of the Press, and its
freedom in the United States--the only country, in his opinion, where
that freedom was truly practical and useful to the great mass of the
people. The devotion of this country to the cause of Education he
regarded as its greatest glory. And he desired to appeal to the people,
thus fitted by their education and their press to form an intelligent
and correct judgment, on behalf of his country's cause. He was proud to
remember that he commenced his public career as a journalist; and he
drew a graphic picture of the circumstances under which journalists in
despotic countries, with fettered hands and a censor at their side, are
compelled to perform their task. He then proceeded to correct some very
remarkable misrepresentations of the Hungarian cause to which currency
had been given. The United States had a national government, in spite of
the great variety of languages spoken within their borders. Now, if the
various races in the Union should refuse to receive the laws, the
liberties, the protection, and the freedom of the general government,
and sacrifice all these to language--each claiming to set up a
government in which its own language should alone be used--we should
have an example here of the manner in which the several races of Hungary
had been excited to rebellion by the wiles of Austria. He dwelt at some
length upon the superior numbers of those in Hungary speaking the Magyar
tongue, over those speaking all others; and upon the _Pansclavic_
league, which professed to seek to unite all speaking Sclavic in a
common cause, but which was really a trick of despots to destroy their
freedom. The Hungarian Diet had not abolished any other tongue; it had
only replaced the dead Latin by a living language. It was, therefore,
untrue that the Hungarians had struggled for the dominion of their own
race; they struggled for civil, political, social, and religious
freedom, common to all, against Austrian despotism: the ruling principle
of the nation was, to have Republican institutions, founded on universal
suffrage--so that the majority of the people shall rule in every respect
and in all departments. This was the principle for which they would
live, and for which they were willing to die. He entreated the aid of
the United States in that great struggle. The speech was heard with
interest, and was followed by speeches from a large number of gentlemen
connected with the City Press.
The Thirty-second Congress met, in its first session, on the 1st of
December. A caucus of the Democratic members met on the Saturday
evening previous:--at this meeting a resolution pledging the party to
sustain the Compromise measures was laid upon the table by a vote of 50
to 30--mainly on the ground that it was not a proper occasion for action
upon that subject. On Monday morning, a caucus of Whig members was held,
and a similar resolution was passed. In the House of Representatives,
Hon. Linn Boyd of Kentucky was elected Speaker, and John W. Forney of
Pennsylvania, Clerk.
A resolution, offered by Mr. Seward of New York, declaring that, on
behalf of the People of the United States, Congress extended to Kossuth
a welcome to the Capital and to the Country, was passed, there being six
nays in the Senate and sixteen in the House of Representatives. Some
little debate was had upon the subject in the Senate,--but none in the
House.--Senator Foote, of Mississippi, offered a series of resolutions
declaring the Compromise measures of 1850 a final settlement of the
questions to which they relate. They were under discussion in the Senate
when our Record closed.
The President's Message was sent in on Tuesday. It presents in a clear
and able manner the condition of the country, and the events of the past
year. It congratulates Congress on the preservation of peace, and on the
abatement of those sectional agitations which for a time threatened to
disturb the harmony of the Union. A detailed narrative is given of the
invasion of Cuba, and the events by which it was followed. The steamer
Pampero, with about 400 men, left New Orleans for Cuba on the 3d of
August, in spite of the precautions which had been taken to prevent it.
The expedition was set on foot in palpable violation of the laws of the
United States. The steamer landed those on board on the night of August
11th, at Playtas, twenty leagues from Havana, whence the main body of
them marched to an inland village in the interior. The remainder were
attacked on the 13th, by a body of Spanish troops, captured, taken to
Havana and shot. The main body was dispersed August 24th, and their
leader Lopez, executed on the 1st of September. Of those taken prisoners
several were pardoned, and about 160 sent to Spain. The Government will
spare no proper efforts to procure their release; but its purpose is
proclaimed to enforce rigidly the laws which prevent its citizens from
interfering with the concerns of foreign nations. No individuals, it is
declared, have a right to hazard the peace of the country or to violate
its laws, upon vague notions of altering or reforming governments in
other states; but every independent nation, it is added, must be able to
defend its possessions against unauthorized individuals banded together
to attack them. The Government of the United States will rigidly adhere
to, and enforce its policy of neutrality, which they were among the
first to proclaim and establish. Friendly relations with all, but
entangling alliances with none, is declared to be our policy. "Our true
mission is not to propagate our opinions, or impose upon other countries
our form of government, by artifice or force; but to teach by example,
and show by our success, moderation, and justice, the blessings of
self-government, and the advantages of free institutions. Let every
people choose for itself, and make and alter its political institutions
to suit its own condition and convenience. But, while we avow and
maintain this neutral policy ourselves, we are anxious to see the same
forbearance on the part of other nations whose forms of government are
different from our own. The deep interest which we feel in the spread of
liberal principles, and the establishment of free governments, and the
sympathy with which we witness every struggle against oppression, forbid
that we should be indifferent to a case in which the strong arm of a
foreign power is invoked to stifle public sentiment, and repress the
spirit of freedom in any country." The governments of France and Great
Britain have issued orders to their commanders on the West India station
to prevent, by force if necessary, the landing of invaders upon the
coast of Cuba. Our government has taken proper precautions to prevent
the execution of these orders from interfering with the maritime rights
of the United States. The principle that in every regularly documented
merchant vessel, the crew who navigate it, and those on board of it,
will find their protection in the flag that is over them, will be
rigidly enforced in all cases, and at all hazards. No American ship can
be allowed to be visited and searched for the purpose of ascertaining
the character of individuals on board, nor can there be allowed any
watch by the vessels of any foreign nation over American vessels on the
coasts of the United States or the seas adjacent thereto. The French
government has given orders to its commanders to respect the flag of the
United States wherever it might appear.--The outrages committed at New
Orleans upon the Spanish Consul are recited and deeply deplored. The
President considers the legislation of the country, for the protection
or punishment of consuls, insufficient. The attention of Congress is
asked to the question of reciprocal trade between Canada and the United
States, and to the survey of the Oregon boundary. Louis Napoleon has
accepted the post of arbiter in the dispute between Portugal and the
United States, concerning the General Armstrong. The steps taken by
Congress to procure the release of Kossuth are recited, and the
President recommends to Congress to consider in what manner Governor
Kossuth and his companions, brought hither by its authority, shall be
received and treated.--It is hoped that the differences between France
and the Sandwich Islands may be adjusted so as to secure the
independence of those islands--which has been recognized by the United
States, as well as by several European nations.--The disturbances in
Mexico are deplored:--steps have been taken to prevent American citizens
from aiding the rebellion in the northern departments. A convention has
been entered into between Mexico and the United States, intended to
impart a feeling of security to those citizens of the United States who
have undertaken to construct a railroad across the Isthmus of
Tehuantepec;--it has not yet, however, been ratified by the Congress and
Executive of that country. The only object which our government has had
in view, has been the construction of a passage from ocean to ocean, the
shortest and best for travelers and merchandise, and equally open to all
the world. It has sought neither territorial acquisition, nor any
advantages peculiar to itself. It will therefore continue to exert all
proper efforts to secure the co-operation of Mexico.--The republic of
Nicaragua has been so much disturbed by internal convulsions, that
nothing can be done as yet toward disposing of the questions pending
between the two countries.--Inter-oceanic communication from the mouth
of the St. John to the Pacific has been so far accomplished that
passengers and merchandise have been transported over it. A considerable
part of the railroad across the isthmus has been completed. Peace has
been concluded between the contending parties in the island of St.
Domingo. The office of Commissioner to China is not yet filled:--a
higher salary is asked for it.
The aggregate receipts of the last fiscal year amounted to
$52,312,979:--the total expenditures $48,005,878. The total imports of
the year were $215,725,995, of which $4,967,901 was in specie. The total
exports were $217,517,130, of which $29,231,880 was in specie. Since the
1st of December 1850, the payments on account of the principal of the
public debt have amounted to $7,501,456, which includes $3,242,400 paid
to Mexico and $2,591,253 awarded to American citizens under the Mexican
treaty. The public debt on the 20th of November, exclusive of stock
authorized to be issued to Texas, was $62,560,395. The receipts for the
next fiscal year are estimated at $51,800,000. The total expenditures
for the next year are estimated at $42,892,299, of which $33,343,198
will be needed for the ordinary expenses of the government, and
$9,549,101 for payments of the public debt and expenses consequent on
our territorial acquisitions. The value of our exports is $43,648,322
more than it was the year before last, but this is owing mainly to the
increased price of cotton. The value of our exports of bread stuffs and
provisions has fallen from $68,701,921 in 1847, to $26,051,373 in 1850,
and to $21,948,653 in 1851, with a strong probability of a still farther
reduction in the current year. In the exports of rice and tobacco there
has also been a large decrease. These facts are cited as showing the
fallacy of expecting increased exports from a reduced tariff. The
production of gold in California, it is feared, will tend to increase
our imports beyond a healthy demand. We have exported specie during the
year to the amount of $24,263,979 beyond our imports. Of the stock due
to Texas only five millions have been issued. The President recommends a
change in the Tariff so as to convert _ad valorem_ into specific duties,
wherever it is possible, and also to discriminate in favor of American
industry. The cash sales of the public lands exceed those of the
previous year. Proper steps have been taken for a survey of the mineral
lands of California. The establishment of an agricultural bureau is
recommended. The President also recommends appropriations for internal
improvements, and the more effectual protection of our frontiers from
Indian incursions. The expenditures of the War Department for the year
were $9,060,268: the estimates for the next year are $7,898,775. The
return of the Arctic Expedition is noticed: the estimates for the navy
during the ensuing year are $5,856,472. The length of mail routes at the
end of the year was 196,290 miles: the annual transportation thereon
53,273,252 miles: and the total cost $3,421,754. The length of the
foreign mail routes is estimated at 18,349 miles; and the annual
transportation thereon at 615,206 miles. The annual cost of this service
is $1,472,187, of which $448,937 is paid by the Post Office Department,
and $1,023,250 is paid through the Navy Department. The annual
transportation _within_ the United States (excluding the service in
California and Oregon), exceeds that of the preceding year 6,162,855
miles, at an increased cost of $547,110. The whole number of post
offices in the United States, on the 30th day of June last, was 19,796.
There were 1,698 post offices established, and 256 discontinued, during
the year. The gross revenues of the Department for the fiscal year,
including the appropriations for the franked matter of Congress, of the
Departments, and officers of Government, and excluding the foreign
postages, collected for and payable to the British post office, amounted
to $6,727,866.78. The expenditures for the same period amounted to
$6,024,566.79; leaving a balance of revenue over the proper
expenditures of the year of $703,299.99. The receipts for postages
during the year (excluding the foreign postages collected for and
payable to the British post office) amounted to $6,345,747.21, being an
increase of $997,610.79, or 18-65.100 percent over the like receipts for
the preceding year. No reliable estimate can as yet be formed of the
effect of the reduction of postage: it is believed, however, that the
receipts will be diminished. The postmaster general recommends adherence
to the present rates of letter postage, and advises against a further
reduction until it shall be justified by the revenues of the Department.
He recommends a revision of the rates of postage on printed matter. The
President urges the appointment of a commission to revise the public
statutes of the United States. Measures have been taken, pursuant to
law, for the extension of the Capitol. It is deeply regretted that the
execution of the fugitive slave law should have been resisted in one or
two instances: the purpose of the President is reiterated to secure its
enforcement. The Message recommends that the Compromise measures of 1850
be regarded as a final settlement of the questions to which they relate.
Reports from several of the Departments were submitted with the Message:
but as all their material statements are embodied in that document,
further reference to them is not essential. It was also accompanied by a
voluminous diplomatic correspondence with the representatives of Spain,
England and France, on topics connected with the invasion of Cuba. On
being informed that the French and English naval forces had been
directed to aid Spain in preventing by force the invasion of Cuba, the
Secretary of State wrote to the French minister pointing out the
injurious consequences that might result from such an interference in a
matter with which they had no direct concern. The government of the
United States had shown its willingness and determination to prevent
such invasions, and no hostile expedition could be fitted out against
that province formidable enough to create any alarm for the safety of
Cuba. The position of Cuba, moreover, in the line of direct commerce
with Europe, rendered such an interposition especially objectionable.
The government of France and those of other European nations, were long
since informed that the United States could not see that island
transferred by Spain to any other European state with indifference: and
such a protectorate as these orders to their squadron implied, might
lead to results equally objectionable. All experience proves, it was
added, that the rights, interest, and peace of the continents of Europe
and America will be best preserved by the forbearance of each to
interfere in the affairs of the other. The French minister in his reply
acknowledged the perfect propriety of the attitude of the American
government, and repudiated the thought that France entertained doubts of
the disposition of the United States to prevent the invasion of Cuba
from their shores. America, he says, is now closely connected with
Europe by the interest of commerce, and the nations of the two
continents are so dependent upon each other, that the effects of any
event on one side are immediately felt on the other. Full explanations
were offered to the Spanish government in regard to the insults to which
the Spanish consul was subjected in New Orleans, and the liberation of
the American prisoners in Cuba was strongly urged.
A sad accident occurred in New York city on the 27th of November. In a
large public school, in the Ninth Ward, one of the teachers was seized
with paralysis. The circumstance alarmed her pupils, and their screams
created a sudden panic throughout all the school. Immense numbers rushed
to the stairs the banisters of which gave way, and they fell one upon
another, upon the stone floor below. _Forty-three_ children were killed
by this sad catastrophe. The Coroner's Inquest discovered nothing except
that the stairs were improperly and insecurely constructed.
In Mississippi the Constitutional Convention adjourned on the 17th
November, after adopting resolutions declaring the acquiescence of the
State in the Compromise and the Union, but declaring that it would
secede in case Congress should repeal the Fugitive Slave law, or in any
way interfere with slavery in the States. The same Convention adopted by
a vote of 72 to 17, a resolution declaring that the asserted right of
secession is utterly unsanctioned by the Constitution, and that it can
not, in fact, take place without a subversion of the Union and a civil
revolution.
Mr. John S. Thrasher, the American in Havana, to whose case we alluded
in our last Monthly Record, has had his trial (if the process to which
he was subjected deserves such a name), and has been sentenced to
imprisonment for eight years on the coast of Africa. He was thrown into
prison and kept there for some weeks, until the 15th of November, when
he was tried before a court martial. He was not allowed counsel, no
witnesses were examined, and the proceeding was wholly a farce. The
charges against him were of the most puerile kind, and not the slightest
proof of their truth was offered. Yet he was convicted, sentenced, and
sent from Havana in a Spanish ship of war. He has published a brief
appeal to the government and people of the United States, in which he
sets forth the gross illegality of the whole proceeding.
The official returns of the State election in New York have just been
declared as follows:
_Judge of Court_ } Johnson (Dem.) 201,144 3,321 _Maj._
_of Appeals._ } Foote (Whig) 197,823
_Sec. of State._ Randal (Dem.) 199,426 844 _Maj._
Forsyth (Whig) 198,582
_Comptroller._ Wright (Dem.) 200,790 258 _Maj._
Patterson (Whig) 200,532
_Treasurer._ Welch (Dem.) 200,465
Cook (Whig) 200,693 228 _Maj._
_Canal Com._ Wheaton (Dem.) 200,234
Fitzhugh (Whig) 201,147 913 _Maj._
_State Engineer._ McAlpine (Dem.) 203,032 3,728 _Maj._
Seymour (Whig) 199,304
_Ins. State Pris._ Storms (Dem.) 202,801 4,223 _Maj._
Wells (Whig) 198,578
The aggregate vote in all the districts, for Senators and Members of
Assembly, was as follows:
_Senators._ _Assembly._
Whig ticket 199,556 199,367
Democratic 199,412 197,170
------- -------
Whig majority 144 2,197
From CALIFORNIA we have news to the 1st of November. Over three millions
of dollars in gold dust have been received during the month. The news is
not of special interest. The success of the miners continued
undiminished, and new deposits and veins of gold were discovered daily.
From want of rain, however, washing the auriferous earth was attended
with difficulty and delay. The capital has been removed back to San
Jose. A Convention was held in the southern counties, on the 20th of
October, to take steps for a division of the State. A declaration was
adopted setting forth the reasons for this measure, which is ascribed
mainly to the inequality of taxation, the distance of that section from
the seat of government, and the inadequate protection received from the
State authorities. Nothing definite was accomplished at the
Convention.--The Indians have again proved to be troublesome on the
southern frontier. Great fears were entertained for the safety of a
company of twenty-three U. S. troops on the Gila River.--An expedition
of about 125 men sailed from San Francisco for the Sandwich Islands, on
the last of October: its object is not stated, though significant hints
are thrown out that it is political. It was to be followed by another
soon.
From Santa Fe we have news of fresh excitements growing out of alleged
discoveries of gold on the Gila. Numerous parties had been formed and
were going thither for the purpose of digging. The Indians in the
neighborhood were comparatively quiet. Several battles, between the
different tribes had occurred in the southern part of the territory.
In UTAH, among the Mormons, a spirit of resistance to the Government of
the United States has been developed, and the Governor of the Territory,
Brigham Young--one of the leading Mormons--has given indications of
hostility, which will probably lead to his removal. We have not as yet
received any definite details of the proceedings there.
GREAT BRITAIN.
Public attention in England has been mainly occupied with the movements
and speeches of M. KOSSUTH. On the 10th of November he visited
Birmingham, where he was received by an immense crowd of people, who
evinced the utmost enthusiasm on his behalf. Without making any address
at that time, he left for Manchester on the 11th, where he was also
received with the greatest conceivable _eclat_. He made an address to
the people in the Town Hall mainly upon the commercial and political
aspects of the cause to which he was devoted. He felt that the great
contest of the age is between absolutism, the power of the few, and the
rights and well-being of the many. The decisive struggle is close at
hand, as the signs of the times, visible on every side, sufficiently
indicate. It was folly to say that the nations of Europe are contented,
and that it is only a few ambitious and unprincipled individuals who are
disturbing the existing tranquillity. The people of Europe would embrace
the first opportunity to strike another blow for their rights. And the
cause of Hungary, in this connection, was the cause of Europe, because
Hungary from her local position must always form the only effectual
bulwark against the despotism of Russia. England and the United States,
he urged, were both deeply interested as free nations, and as guardians
of the law of nations, to prevent Russia from again interfering to crush
Hungary. He appealed to the people of Manchester upon this subject,
mainly upon the ground, in addition to political considerations, that
their trade would be greatly extended and all their interests benefited
by the establishment of freedom in Europe. He closed by urging the aid
of the people, in urging their government to act in the matter, and in
contributions of money.
On the next day, Wednesday, M. KOSSUTH returned to Birmingham, where he
made two addresses, the first at a _dejeuner_ at the house of Mr. Henry,
in which he took occasion to disavow, in the most explicit terms, all or
any participation in the views and purposes of Socialists or Communists.
The other was at the Musical Fund Hall, where a banquet had been
prepared. He there commenced with a sketch of the Hungarian struggle,
and especially of the circumstances attending her declaration of
independence. He said he had from his earliest youth been familiar with
British history, and filled with the free spirit of her institutions,
and he had longed to secure for his own country some of the rights which
had made England so glorious and so happy a country. He spoke warmly in
praise of the industry of Birmingham, and passed to a consideration of
the character, condition, and hopes of Hungary. Henceforth, he said,
monarchical institutions were impossible there. The treacheries of the
House of Hapsburgh, had alienated the hearts of Hungarians from royalty,
and henceforth republicanism must form the basis of their political
institutions. The contest in Europe was not now for any single nation,
or for any isolated interest;--it was a contest between despotism and
freedom, for the dominion of the world. He called upon the people of
England to prevent Russia from interfering against the struggling people
of Hungary.
In London, M. KOSSUTH received addresses from numerous deputations, to
all which he replied with great felicity--aiming steadily at his great
object of receiving sympathy and aid for Hungary--denouncing alike
Radicalism, Socialism, and despotism, asserting the political rights and
advocating the civil freedom of the people, and impressing upon the
public mind the fact that the struggle is at hand, which must decide
which of the two great principles, despotism or freedom, shall dominate
in Europe for many years to come. He attended the Polish and Hungarian
ball in London on the 13th, and on the 15th went to Southampton to
embark for the United States. He was met by the Mayor and Corporation
and entertained at a farewell banquet. He there made a speech of an
hour's length, in which he expressed his belief that England was the
country which would have after all to decide the destinies of Europe.
France was republican, and Russia must know, let it please her or not,
that she must accept the necessity of fighting France on the field of
Republicanism against Absolutism; but Russia must also learn that she
would have to meet England and the force of her public opinion in
opposition to despotism. He would not say that England would do so by
going to war; but that she would exercise an influence of this kind by
declaring her opinion against any interference in the domestic affairs
of nations from foreign powers. Freedom and independence were but local
self-government as opposed to centralization. He wished them to remember
this, then they would see that the cause of Hungary was their cause too.
His last request was, do not forget poor Hungary. On whatever question
they met, let Englishmen, in their addresses to the House of Commons, in
their petitions, and in their public resolutions, remember the cause of
Hungary as involving their own interests. In the course of his speech he
begged of them not to forget to agitate against secret diplomacy. It had
been said that diplomacy should be kept secret, just as a merchant would
keep his negotiations secret, till they were finished; but what merchant
would allow business to be transacted in his counting-house the nature
of which he did not know? In this case the people were the masters, and
they should not allow any business to be conducted with the details of
which they were not fully acquainted. The entertainment being over, M.
Kossuth, Madame Kossuth, M. Pulzsky, and Madame Pulzsky, and suite,
proceeded on board the American steamer Humboldt, which quickly started
forth on her voyage across the Atlantic. Of his arrival and reception
there we have already given an account.
FRANCE.
The political intelligence from France is of decided interest and
importance. The Assembly has met--the President has demanded the
restoration of universal suffrage, and the Assembly has refused to
grant it. The appeal, of course, is to the people in the Presidential
election of next May. What will be the result is, of course, matter of
conjecture; but whatever it may be, it will exert a prodigious influence
upon the politics of Europe.
The Assembly met on the 4th of November, six hundred and thirty-three
members being present. On the next day the message of the President was
sent in and read. It opens by proclaiming the continued preservation of
peace, but utters warnings against being deceived by this apparent
tranquillity. A vast demagogical conspiracy, the President says, has
been organized in France and in Europe; secret societies have been
formed extending their ramifications to the smallest communes; and all
the most insensate and turbulent spirits, without being agreed on men or
on things, have given themselves rendezvous for 1852. He relies on the
patriotism of the Assembly to save France from these perils. The best
means of doing this is by satisfying legitimate wants, and in putting
down, on their first appearance, all attacks on religion, morality, and
society.--The Message then proceeds, under different heads, to give a
statement of the condition of the country. With the exception of the
departments of Ardice, Cher, Nievre, and Lyons, the ordinary measures
have been sufficient to preserve order. The receipts of taxes have been
quite satisfactory. The progress of exportations continues unabated.
Public roads and public buildings have received the attention of the
government. Special care has also been given to the encouragement of
agriculture. The superiority of French manufactures has been abundantly
shown at the Great Exhibition in London. The number of common schools is
34,939; of girls' schools 10,542.--The number of the land forces on the
1st of October was 387,519 men and 84,306 horses. If circumstances
permit, this will be reduced to 377,130 men and 83,435 horses. Out of
1145 tribes in Algeria, 1100 have recognized the rule of France. Various
important naval works have been constructed. The relations of France to
foreign powers are eminently satisfactory. Her situation at Rome
continues unchanged, and the Pope still shows constant solicitude for
the happiness of France and the welfare of her soldiers. Important
measures are in progress at Rome, and active exertions are making for
the formation of an army, which will render possible the withdrawal of
the troops from the States of the Church. A proof has been given of the
friendly disposition of France toward Spain, by offering her the aid of
the French naval forces to oppose the audacious attempt against the
island of Cuba.--In spite of all these satisfactory results, the
President says a general feeling of uneasiness is daily increasing.
"Every where employment is falling off, wretchedness is increasing, and
anti-social hopes gain courage in proportion as the public powers, now
weakened, are approaching their termination." The Government, in such a
state of things, ought to seek out proper means of conjuring away the
peril, and of assuring the best chances of safety. Resolutions must be
adopted, which emanate from a decisive act of sovereign authority.
"Well, then," proceeds the President, "I have asked myself whether, in
presence of the madness of passions, the confusion of doctrines, the
division of parties, when every thing is leaguing together to deprive
justice, morality, and authority of their last prestige--whether, I say,
we ought to allow the only principle to be shaken which, in the midst of
the general chaos, Providence has left upstanding as our rallying point?
When universal suffrage has again upraised the social edifice, when it
has substituted a right for a revolutionary act, ought its base to be
any longer narrowed? When new powers shall come to preside over the
destinies of the country, is it not to compromise their stability in
advance to leave a pretext for discussing their origin or doubting their
legitimacy? No doubt on the subject can be entertained; and without for
a moment departing from the policy of order which I have always pursued,
I have seen myself, to my deep regret, obliged to separate myself from a
Ministry which possessed my full confidence and esteem, to choose
another, composed also of honorable men, known for their conservative
opinions, but who are willing to admit the necessity of re-establishing
universal suffrage on the largest possible base. In consequence, there
will be presented to you a bill to restore that principle in all its
plenitude, in preserving such parts of the law of May 31 as free
universal suffrage from its impure elements, and render its application
more moral and more regular." The law of May 31, he says, was originally
passed as a measure of public safety, and of course now that the
necessity for it has passed away, the law itself should be repealed. Its
operation, moreover, has gone further than could have been foreseen. It
has disfranchised three millions of electors, two-thirds of whom are
peaceable inhabitants of the country. This immense exclusion has been
made the basis and pretext of the anarchical party, which covers its
detestable designs with the appearance of right torn from it, and
requiring to be reconquered. The law also presents grave inconveniences,
especially in its application to the election of a President. The
constitution requires that two millions of votes should be given for the
candidate before he is declared elected, and if no one receives that
number then the Assembly shall elect. The law changes the proportion of
votes from that originally established by the Constitution. The
restoration of universal suffrage is urged, finally, on the ground that
it will give an additional chance of securing the revision of the
Constitution.--The President says he is aware that this proposition is
inspired by his own personal interests, but he says his conduct for the
last three years ought to be sufficient to put aside such an allegation.
The good of his country will always be the motive of his conduct. He
concludes by saying, that, "to restore universal suffrage is to deprive
civil war of its flag, and the opposition of their last argument; it is
to afford to France an opportunity of giving herself institutions which
will insure her repose; it will be to bestow on the powers to come that
moral repose which exists only when resting on a consecrated principle
and an incontestable authority." Immediately after the reading of the
Message, the Minister read the project of a law proposing the abrogation
of the law of May 31, 1850, and re-establishing the electoral law of
March 15, 1849, by which all citizens 21 years old, and having resided
six months in the commune, are declared electors. The Minister, on
presenting this law, demanded urgency for its consideration. A warm
debate followed, and the urgency was rejected by a large majority. The
bill was then referred to a committee, which reported on Tuesday of the
succeeding week. The report was very explicit against universal
suffrage, and closed by advising that the bill be rejected at once,
without passing even to second reading. The matter was then postponed
until the following Thursday. On that day, after an animated debate, in
which, by agreement, the Republicans were represented by M. Michel de
Bourges, the motion was carried by a vote of 355 to 348--a majority of
_seven_ against the government. During the debate M. de Bourges asked,
"is it not probable that the disfranchised electors will present
themselves at the hustings in May, 1852, and with the Message of the
President in their hands, declare their determination to vote?" This has
been regarded as a hint to the electors to go forward and claim their
right to vote.--Another question of very great interest and importance,
grew out of a demand of the Quaestors that the troops of the city should
be put under their orders for the protection of the Assembly; the
question whether the project should be brought under consideration or
not, came up on the 10th of November. The project as presented by the
Quaestors, M. Baze, Gen. Leflo, and one other, defined the right in such
a manner as to make the power of the Assembly over the troops
direct--without the intervention of the War Office or of the Executive.
The question was discussed with great warmth, and for part of the time
amidst the greatest confusion and clamor. The vote was finally taken,
and the proposition of the Quaestors was rejected, 408 to 300.--A large
number of officers of the army recently presented themselves at the
Elyssee and were received by the President in a speech that created
great excitement. He said he was sure he could depend upon their
support, because he should demand nothing that did not accord with his
right, recognized by the Constitution, with military honor, and with the
interest of the country; because he had placed at their head officers
who had his confidence, and who merited theirs; and because he should
not do as other governments had done, ask them to march on and he would
follow; but he would say, "I march, follow me." The speech created great
commotion throughout all political parties.--General uneasiness is felt
as to the result of the political struggle in France. The votes upon the
propositions mentioned above were not party votes, but seemed to be the
result of ever changing alliances and combinations. The hostility which
burst out against the President upon the first publication of his
Message, had in some degree subsided, or rather it had been directed
against M. Thiers. It is universally felt that, whether peacefully
solved or not, the election in May can not fail to have a most important
influence upon European politics.
On the 25th of November, the President made a brief but significant
speech, on distributing to the manufacturers the prizes they had won by
the articles exhibited at the World's Exhibition. After expressing his
satisfaction at the proofs of French genius and skill which had been
afforded at the Exhibition, he proceeded to speak of the check upon
industry which the continued machinations of evil men in France could
not fail to create. On the one hand France was disturbed by demagogical
ideas, and on the other by monarchist hallucinations. The former
disseminate every where error and falsehood. "Disquietude goes before
them, and deception follows them, while the resources employed in
repressing them are so much loss to the most pressing ameliorations and
to the relief of misery. The schemes of monarchists impede all progress,
all serious labor, for in place of an advance the country is forced to
have recourse to a struggle. The efforts of both, however, will be in
vain." And the President exhorted the manufacturers to continue their
labors. "Undertake them without fear, for they will prevent the want of
occupation during the winter. Do not dread the future; tranquillity will
be maintained, come what may. A Government which relies for support on
the entire mass of the nation, which has no other motive of action than
the public good, and which is animated by that ardent faith which is a
sure guide even through a space in which there is no path traced, that
Government, I say, will know how to fulfill its mission, for it has in
it that right which comes from the people, and that force which comes
from God." This speech created a profound sensation, and elicited
general discussion.--The _Constitutionnel_ created a universal
excitement by an article proclaiming the existence of a Monarchical
conspiracy, and menacing that section of the Assembly with instant
seizure and imprisonment upon the first movement toward the
accomplishment of their plans. The editor, A. Granier de Cassagnac, was
denounced in very violent terms by M. Creton, an Orleanist deputy, who
was challenged therefor. He refused, however, to take any notice of it,
when he was posted as a coward by Cassagnac.
ERNEST, King of Hanover, died at his palace in Herrenhausen, on the 18th
of November, at the age of 80, and after a reign of thirteen years. He
was the fifth and last surviving son of George III., and was born at
Kew, England, on the 5th of June, 1771. In 1790 he entered the army, and
served in the European wars which followed. In 1799 he was created Duke
of Cumberland, Earl of Armagh, and Duke of Teviotdale, with a
Parliamentary grant of L12,000 per annum. He continued to live in
England until the death of William IV., when he became King of Hanover.
His reign has not been marked by any great events. He was always an
ultra champion of privileged classes, and made himself very prominent in
England as the enemy of Catholic emancipation, and reform measures of
all sorts.
In SWITZERLAND, the recent election has resulted in the return of nearly
all the members of the present Federal Assembly, especially in the
German Cantons. The radicals have a decided majority--contrary to the
expectations that had been very generally entertained. The new Assembly
was to meet on the 1st of December in order to elect the federal
government.
The character of the justice administered in Austria is strongly
illustrated by a notification in a Venice gazette. Count Agostino
Guerrieri, of Verona, lately of the Austrian Hussars, was convicted of
having received an anonymous letter from revolutionary parties, and of
not giving it up to the authorities; the verdict against him was that he
was guilty of high treason, and for this he was sentenced to ten years'
imprisonment in a fortress. Baron Lutti was convicted of having advised
him to burn the letter, and for that offense he was sentenced to
imprisonment for two years.
From SOUTHERN and EASTERN EUROPE there is no news of special interest.
In Austria financial necessities are creating general anxiety. The
credit of the country does not prove sufficient to effect needed loans.
General dissatisfaction, moreover, still prevails in Hungary, and many
of the Hungarian regiments evince a disposition to take sides with their
country rather than their employers.--In ITALY the country is apparently
quiet, but a very thorough and effective organization has been effected
for a new revolutionary movement, whenever a proper opportunity shall be
presented.--The peace of Europe is generally supposed to depend upon the
French election in May next; but it is not easy to see by what result
general peace can be preserved.
EDITOR'S TABLE.
The year comes round with such perfect uniformity that we find it hard
to realize how there could ever have been any great difficulty in
settling either its true boundaries or its internal divisions. Any body,
it seems to us, could make an almanac, as far as the calendar is
concerned. Such might be the first thought, even of persons who could
not justly be charged with a lack of general intelligence. But let them
think again, and they will rather find cause to wonder at the immense
amount of observation involved in the process of gathering, age after
age, the elements of a computation apparently so simple.
Had the seasons been so strikingly marked that the transition from one
to the other had been instantaneous, or had the lesser sections of time
been so contrived, in the Divine wisdom, as to be exact divisors of the
greater, there would have been no difficulty whatever in the problem.
But the Author of nature has not made it so easy for us. Twelve moons
fall short of the year; thirteen exceed it. Any monthly division,
therefore, founded on the revolutions of the satellite, must require,
after the lapse of a few years, an addition, or a subtraction, of a
certain period, to make the seasons come round again in harmony.
The first men, unquestionably, soon learned to note the general
revolution by the return of the same seasons. The earliest agricultural
operations would necessitate similar estimates, and thus a general
notion of the year would be arrived at without an exact knowledge of the
precise number of days contained. Hence, in all languages, some such
idea has entered into the name. The year is that which comes, and _comes
again_. In Greek (if our readers will pardon a little display of
learning which we have picked up for the occasion) it is [Greek: eti "ETOS"
heteros] _another_ and YET _another_. In the Hebrew it is _repetition_.
In our own, and the northern tongues generally, the word in all its
forms (_year_, _gear_, _jahr_, _jaar_, &c.) ever denotes a _course_
(_currus_) or _circle_.
Another mode was by rude astronomical observations, which must have been
resorted to in the very earliest periods. For a good portion of the
year, the sun was seen to come regularly north. Then he remained
apparently stationary; and then, slowly _turning_, made his retreat
again to the southern limit, there to perform the same movement--and so
on without interruption or variation. Hence the word _tropic_,
signifying the _turning_, and of which St. James makes so sublime and
beautiful a use when he tells us (James i. 17) that the Unchangeable
Spiritual Sun, or "Father of Lights," has no _parallax_[6] and no
"_shadow of turning_," or _tropical shadow_, as it should be rendered,
referring to the mode of determining the period of _turning_ by the
shortest shadow cast by a perpendicular object. Still all this was
merely an approximation to the length of the year, but with errors which
only repeated observations could correct. By taking, however, a large
number of these self-repeating repeating phenomena for a divisor, and
the whole number of carefully ascertained days for a dividend, the error
in each case would be diminished in an inverse ratio; so that we should
not wonder that the number of three hundred and sixty-five days was
fixed upon at quite an early period.
[6] The word parallax, or "_parallage_," here must refer to the
sun's declination north and south of the equator. We have no reason
for supposing that the ideas connected with the term in modern
astronomical science were at all known to the Apostle. It may,
however, be taken generally, for any deviation from one unchangeable
position, and, in such a sense, preserve all the beauty and
sublimity of the metaphor.
Such estimates, too, were aided by collateral observations of the stars.
Let any one look out upon the heavens some clear night at the
commencement of the year, and he can not help being struck with the
position as well as the brilliancy of certain constellations. Over head
are the Pleiades, the lone Aldebaran, Perseus, and Capella. Coming up
the eastern sky are Orion, Gemini, Sirius, the Lesser Dog. Descending in
the western are Andromeda, Pegasus, Capricornus, the Southern Fish.
While low down toward the setting horizon are the Harp, the Eagle, and
the Swan. Two weeks later, at the same time in the evening, he will find
them all farther westward. In a month the change will be still more
marked. After three months, those that before were just rising are on
the meridian, and those that were then on the meridian are now setting.
In six months, an entirely new host of stars will adorn the firmament,
and at the end of a year, all the same phenomena will be found to have
come round again. Our minuteness of detail may seem like trifling in an
age so scientific as this; but it is astonishing how much our science is
the science of books, and how little, after all, especially in
astronomy, there is of personal acquaintance with the objects whose laws
we know so well in theory. How many understand thoroughly the doctrine
of transits and parallaxes, and even the more difficult laws of
celestial influences, as laid down in scientific treatises, and yet, to
save their lives, could not tell us what stars are now overhead, or what
planets are now visible in our nightly heavens. They have read of
Jupiter, they know the dimensions of Jupiter, and have even calculated
the movements of Jupiter, it may be, but Jupiter himself they never saw.
They would be surprised, perhaps, to discover, by actual sight, how
much, in respect to position and appearance, our wintry constellations
differ from those that are visible in summer; although night after
night, for years and years, the brilliant phenomena have been passing
over their heads, and silently, yet most eloquently, inviting their
observation. This should not be so. The names and locations of the stars
should ever be a part of astronomical instruction. We should learn them,
if only for their classical reminiscences--for the sublime pleasure of
having such a theme for contemplation in our evening walks. How easy, in
this way, to fill the heavens with life, when we are led to regard them
no longer as an unmeaning collection of glittering points, or what is
scarcely better, a mere diagram for the illustration of scientific
abstractions, but stored with remembrances of the older days of our
world--the old religion, the old mythology, the old philosophy pictured
on the sky--the old heroes, and heroines, and heroic events, transferred
to the stars, and still shining in immortal splendor above us.
But to return from our digression--any one may see how such an
observation of the stars furnished a second mode of ascertaining the
length of the year. The men of the olden time were driven to this
earnest watching of the heavens by an interest, of which, in these days
of almanacs, and clocks, and compasses we can form but an inadequate
conception. The period of the year was named after the principal star
that rose just before, or set just after the sun. For example, when
Sirius rose and set with or near the time of the sun, it was called the
"dog days"--the only one of these old sidereal measures of time that has
come down to us. Another season was under the sway of Orion. It was
called the "stormy constellation," and at its heliacal rising, or when,
as Hesiod expresses it,
The gentle Pleiads, shunning his fierce pursuit,
Sank late in the Ocean wave--
then was the ship to be drawn up into the well-secured harbor, and the
sailor for a season to shun the dangerous deep. In the same way the
periods of different agricultural operations were assigned to different
constellations--some to Arcturus, others to the humid Hyades, and
others, again, to the Bull, who "opened the year with his golden horns."
From the observed fact of simultaneousness arose, also, the notion of
some secret causative influence between the concurrent events. Hence
those views of astrology, so early and so widely held among mankind, and
which assigned to each event its celestial concomitants, and to each
individual man his natal star. Exploded it may have been by the modern
progress, but there was nevertheless at bottom an _idea_ of more value
than any science, however accurate, that does not give it the first and
highest place. It was the thought of the absolute unity of nature, and
of the unbroken relation of every part of the universe to every other
part--in other words, the sublime idea which the oldest philosophy
strove to express by that grand word, Kosmos.
The length of the year, as a whole number, was early known. It was some
time, however, before the disturbance created by the fraction began to
be distinctly perceived, and still longer before it was reduced to any
thing like satisfactory measurement. In the division of the 365 days
into monthly periods, lay at first the greatest difficulty. The lunar
number was in general employed, not only as the nearest marked divisor,
but because the new and full moons were so generally connected with
religious festivals whether this arose from convenience of arrangement,
or from the idea of some deep religious meaning symbolized by the ever
dying and reviving phases of this mysterious planet. We can not,
however, help being struck with the superior accuracy of the Jewish,
when compared with the confusion and change that prevailed in the Greek
and Roman calendar.
No reader of the Bible can avoid remarking its extreme particularity of
date. The oldest and, on this account, the most striking instance is in
the narration of the flood: "In the 600th year of Noah, in the second
month, and on the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were the
fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were
opened." And so also in respect to its close. There is the same
particularity, too, in the date of the Passover, of the Exodus, of the
arrival at Sinai, of various events in the wilderness, of the wars and
settlement of Canaan, of the building and dedication of the temple, and
of the messages of the later prophets. The first would seem to present
the most unanswerable proof that the Jewish computation had been derived
from an antediluvian science that must have been of a higher kind than
we are generally disposed to acknowledge. With all their mathematics,
and with some attainments in astronomy to which the Jew could make no
pretension, the calendar of the Greeks presents the appearance of far
more confusion. Herodotus, after saying that the Egyptians first _found
out_ the year, and divided it into twelve parts by _means of the stars_,
praises their arrangement (which was probably the same with, or derived
from, that of the Patriarchical times) as being much more easy and
correct than the division of the Greeks. "The Egyptians," he says,
"divide the year into twelve months of thirty days each; and then, by
adding five days to each year, they have a uniform revolution of time;
whereas the Greeks, for the sake of adjusting the seasons accurately,
add every third year an intercalary month" (Herod. ii. 4). By this,
however, they seem only to have made "confusion worse confounded." The
great difficulty of the Greeks arose from the attempt to do what the
wiser Egyptians and Hebrews seem to have abandoned--namely, to divide
the year solely by lunar months. By arbitrary intercalations, it is
true, they could bring the solar and lunar years to a tolerable
agreement, but then, their effect was continually to change the places
of the months relatively to the seasons. The periods of intercalation
were at first every two years, then three, and lastly four, and eight.
In the two latter they seem to have been governed by some respect to the
quadrennial return of the great Olympic games, and the Olympiads
corresponding thereto. The computation of the year was afterward brought
to a still greater degree of accuracy by what was called the cycle of
Melon, which, by embracing a period of nineteen years brought the times
of the new and full moon to fall again, very nearly, on the same days of
each month.
With the Romans it was still worse. Nothing shows how much better they
understood fighting than astronomy, than the way they managed their
year. Under Romulus it was said to have consisted of only ten months. It
is not easy to see how this could be adjusted on any mode of
computation, and yet the numerical names, some of which have come down
to our own calendar, would seem to present some proof of it. The last
month in the year is yet called _December_, or the _Tenth_. In the days
of Numa it consisted of twelve lunar months, with a system of
intercalation something like that of the Greeks. The two added months
were January and February, which, in numerical order would have been
Undecember, and Duodecember, or the Eleventh and Twelfth. The year,
however, by the clumsiness of these methods, and by the whole matter
being left in the hands of the Pontifices who seem to have had little
science, and still less honesty, became turned so completely
topsy-turvy, that instead of being put at the end, these two new months
were finally arranged at the beginning. The first was called January
from the great (some say the greatest) Latin deity, Janus, whose
original name was Djanus or Di-annus, _The God of the Year_ (similar to
the Greek Kronos or Time), and who was most expressively represented
with two faces, one ever looking back upon the past, and the other
forward to the coming period.
In the hands of the Pontifices the Roman year had again been getting
more and more out of order, until, in the days of Julius Caesar, the
first of January had retrograded nearly to the autumnal equinox. This
very useful despot determined to take the matter in his own hands, and
make a thorough reform; but, as a preliminary, was obliged to have an
extraordinary year of 445 days, which was called the _year of
confusion_. Before this, there had been, too, a continual neglect of the
fraction of a day, although its existence seems to have been known at a
much earlier period. Caesar arranged the months as they now stand, and
made provision for the fraction by ordering a day to be added to
February every fourth year. This seemed to answer every purpose, until,
after the lapse of more than fourteen centuries, it was found that the
seasons began to disagree with the almanac, and the religious festivals
to fall somewhat out of place. The error was estimated to amount to
eleven days; the correction of which was assumed by the Roman Pontifex,
but with the aid of a science far more accurate than had been possessed
by the Pontifices of the older time. The modes now adopted, for
preserving accuracy in future, are known to most well-informed readers,
so that we shall not dwell upon them farther than to say, that they
consist generally in such omissions of the leap year, from time to time,
as will correct the very small excess by which a quarter of a day
exceeds the actual fraction of the tropical year.
"And God said--Let there be lights in the firmament of Heaven, and let
them be for days, and for years, and for times, and for seasons." It
requires some thought before we can fully realize how much we are
indebted, morally and mentally, as well as physically, to these
time-measuring arrangements. We must place ourselves in the condition of
the savage before we can know how much of our civilization comes from
the almanac, or, in other words, our exact divisions of time aiding the
idea and the memory--thus shaping our knowledge, or thinking, and even
our emotions, so as to make them very different from what they might
have been, had we not possessed these regulators of our inner as well as
our outer man. How unlike, in all this, must be the life of the untaught
children of the forest! Let us endeavor to fancy men living from age to
age without any known length or divisions of the year--no lesser or
greater periods to serve as landmarks, or, rather, sky-marks, in their
history--and, therefore, without any possibility of really having any
history. Summer and winter come and go, but to the savage all the future
is a chaos, and all the past is
With the years beyond the flood,
unmarked by any intervals which may give it a hold upon the thoughts or
the memory. The heavenly bodies make their monthly, and annual, and
cyclical revolutions, but their eternal order finds no correspondence in
his chaotic experience. The stars roll nightly over his head, but only
to direct his steps in the wilderness, without shedding a ray of light
upon the denser wilderness of his dark and sensual mind. The old man
knows not how many years he has lived. He knows not the ages of his
children. He has heard, indeed, of the acts of his fathers; but all are
equally remote. They belong to the past, and the past is all alike--a
dark back-ground of tradition, without any of that chronological
perspective through which former ages look down upon us with an aspect
as life-like and as truthful as the present. The phenomena of the
physical world have been ever flitting like shadows before his sense,
but the understanding has never _connected_ them with their causes,
never followed them to their sources, never seen in them any ground of
coherence or relation, simply because time, the great _connective_
medium of all inductive comparison, has been to him an undivided,
unarranged, and, therefore, unremembered vacancy. Hence it is, he never
truly learns to think, and, on this account, never makes progress--never
rises of himself from that low animal state to which he may once have
fallen, in his ever downward course from the primitive light and truth.
AEschylus, in the Prometheus, makes such to have been the first condition
of mankind. But, however false his theory in this respect--opposed as it
is to the sure teachings of revelation--nothing can be truer to the life
than the fancy picture he has given us--
No sure foreknowing sign had they of winter,
Nor of flowery spring, or summer with its fruits.
Unmarked the years rolled ever on; and hence
_Seeing, they saw not_; hearing, they heard in vain.
Like one wild dream their waste unmeasured life,
Until I taught them how to note _the year_
By signal stars, and gave them _Memory_,
The active mother of all human science.
* * * * *
THE PULPIT and the PRESS--the past and the present, the rising and the
waning power, would be to some minds the first idea suggested by such a
collocation of terms. But we trust the time has not yet come for the
actual verification of any such contrast. Far be it from us to underrate
the value of the very instrument through which we seek to instruct and
reform the public mind; but woe to the land and to the age in which such
an antagonism shall ever be realized. The Press is man's boasted means
for enlightening the world. The Pulpit is Heaven's ordinance; and sad
will it be for the Church, and sadder still for the State, when any
other power on earth challenges a superiority, either in rank or
influence. The clergy can safely occupy no inferior place; and such is
their position, unless they are ever in advance of the age, not in the
common cant of a superficial doctrine of progress, but as champions of
the eternal and _immovable_ truths, while they are, at the same time,
contending in all the fields, whether of theology, or science, or
literature, or philosophy, in which there may be an enemy to be subdued,
or a victory won for Christ. Such rank, we believe, may still be claimed
for the Church. In former centuries she had neither antagonist nor
rival. Now has she hosts of both. Yet are her servants still in the
"fore-front of the hottest battle." Philosophy and science are swelling
loud and long the note of triumph, and yet it is still true, even in a
period the most thoroughly secular the world has ever known since the
days of the Apostles, that the highest efforts of mind are connected, as
ever, with the domain of theology. Science, literature, and even
politics, find their most profound interest for the human soul when the
questions they raise lie nearest to her sacred confines, and connect
themselves with that "faith which is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things unseen." What true worth in any problem in
philosophy, in any discovery in science, the moment it is once
conclusively settled, beyond a peradventure, that man has no hereafter?
What becomes of art, and poetry? What meaning in "progress," and
"ideas," and the "_rights of man_?" But it is this dread though
all-conservative idea of a hereafter, which it is the office of the
Pulpit ever to keep before the human soul, not as a lifeless dogma for
the understanding, but in all those stern relations to a higher positive
law, which shall ever prevent its coalescing with a frivolous creed in
theology, or any boasting philosophy of mere secular reform. In doing
this, there is needed for the Pulpit, first of all, and above all, the
most intense seriousness of spirit, secondly the most thorough knowledge
of the Scriptures, and thirdly, learning, science, and philosophy, fully
equal to any thing that may be brought to cope with it in its unyielding
strife for the dominion of the world.
In urging this, however, we should never forget, that while the power of
the periodical Press is often unduly enhanced by a falsely coloring
medium of estimation, the glory and influence of the Pulpit are
diminished by a similar cause. Apparent variety of topic, an apparent
freshness in the mode of treatment, a skillful adaptation to the ever
varying excitements of the hour, all aided by the ceaseless craving in
the human soul for mere intellectual novelty, give to the one an
appearance of superiority it does not really possess, while, in respect
to the other, the necessary repetition of the same great truths, from
age to age, has produced just the contrary effect.
There is no way, therefore, in which we can better employ the
imagination than in helping us to get away from such a false and
blinding influence. How would the mightiest minds of the ancient world
now estimate the two prime powers of which we are speaking. Let us
imagine Cicero, or Aristotle, to be permitted to revisit the earth, and
study its new modes of thought as they would strike them from their old
and, therefore, unbiased point of observation. Lay before them all the
wonders of the modern newspaper press. They would doubtless be startled
with many things it would reveal to them in the discoveries of modern
physical science. But take them in those wide fields of thought in which
mere physical discovery avails not to give superiority, and we may well
doubt whether they would yield to us that triumph we so loudly claim.
There is nothing in any modern declamation on the rights of men, or
rights of women, that would make Aristotle ashamed of his _Politica_.
Cicero might hear discussed our closest questions of social casuistry,
yet think as proudly of his _Offices_, and his _Republic_, as he ever
did while a resident upon earth. No modern political correspondence
would make him blush for his Letters to Brutus and to Atticus. The
ablest leader in any of our daily journals, would not strike them as
very superior, either in thought or style, to what might have been
expected from a Pericles, a Cleon, an Isocrates, or a Sallust. Our
profoundest arguments for and against foreign intervention might,
perhaps, only remind him of the times when democratic Athens was so
disinterestedly striving to extend her "liberal institutions," and
aristocratic Sparta, with just about equal honesty, was gathering the
other Hellenic cities to a crusade in favor of a sound conservatism.
Modern Europe, with its politics, would be only Greece on a larger
scale; and our own boasts of universal annexation might only call up
some sad reminiscences of the olden time, when "the masses" did their
thinking through the sophist and the rhetorician, instead of the
lecturer and the press.
But now let fancy change the scene from the reading room to the
ministrations of the Christian temple. To present the contrast in its
strongest light, let it be the humblest church, with the humblest
worshipers, and the humblest preacher of our great city--some obscure
corner which the literary and editorial lights of the age might regard
as the last place in which there could be expected any thing original or
profound. Yes--the poorest sermon of the poorest preacher in New York
could hardly fail to strike the great Roman, and the greater Greek, with
an awe which nothing of any other kind in the modern world could ever
inspire. What wondrous truths are these, and whence came they! Whence
this doctrine of eternal life, so far beyond what we ever dared to
think--this preaching of "righteousness, temperance, and a judgment to
come," so far transcending all the ancient moralists had ever taught!
Whence these new and startling words, these superhuman ideas of grace,
of prayer, of redemption, of a new and heavenly birth! And then again,
the sublimity of that invocation--the heavenly thought, and heavenly
harmony, of that song of praise and love! All is redolent of a
philosophy to which our most rapt contemplations never ventured to
ascend. Even the despised hymn-book may be soberly supposed to fill
their souls with an admiration that Dryden and Shakspeare might fail to
inspire. How transcendent the conceptions on every page! How far beyond
all ancient or modern poetry that is alien to its spirit, or claims no
kindred with its celestial origin. Here, indeed is progress. But we
must close our sketch. Is the picture overdrawn? Or have we truthfully
presented the highest although, in spirit, the least acknowledged aspect
of the real superiority of the modern mind--even the humblest modern
mind--over the proudest intellects of the ancient world?
EDITOR'S EASY CHAIR.
Between CONGRESS, KOSSUTH, and CHRISTMAS--an alliterative trio of
topic--we hardly know where to find the handle of a single other moving
hammer of gossip. The hunt for chit-chat is after all a very
philosophical employ; and we do not know another _colaborateur_, in the
whole editorial fraternity, who has smacked the turbulence of
congressional debaters, the enthusiasm of the Hungarian Patrick Henry,
and the _cadeaux_ of our _Noel_, with more equanimity and composure than
ourselves.
Our chair, as we have hinted, is an easy one; and throwing ourselves
back into its luxurious embrace, we have raced through the swift
paragraphs of morning journalism, or lingered, as is our wont, upon the
piquancy of occasional romance, with all the gravity of a stoic, and all
the glow of Epicurus. We are writing now, while the street and the salon
are lighted up with the full flush of the Hungarian enthusiasm. It
amounts to a frenzy; and may well give to the quiet observer a text on
which to preach of our national characteristics.
And _firstly_, we are prone to enthusiastic outbursts, we love to admire
with an ecstasy; and when we do admire, we have a pride to eclipse all
rivals in our admiration. We doubt if ever at Pesth, in the best days
that are gone, or that are to come, of Hungarian nationality, the chief
of the nation could receive more hearty and zealous plaudits than have
welcomed him upon our sunny Bay of New York. A fine person, an honest
eye, and an eloquent tongue--pleading for liberty and against
oppression--stir our street-folk--and we hope in Heaven may always stir
them--to such enthusiasm as no Paris mob can match.
But, _secondly_--since we are speaking sermonwise--our enthusiasm is
only too apt to fall away into reaction. We do not so much grow into a
steady and healthful consciousness of what we count worthy, as we leap
to the embrace of what wears the air of worthiness; and the very excess
of our emotion is only too often followed by a lethargy, which is not so
much the result of a changed opinion, as of a fatigue of sentiment.
Whether this counter-action is to follow upon the enthusiasm that greets
the great Guest, we dare not say. We hope--for the sake of Hungary, for
the sake of Liberty, and for the sake of all that ennobles manhood--that
it may not!
_Thirdly_, and finally, as sermonizers are wont to say, we are, at
bottom, with all our exciting moments, and all our fevers of admiration,
a very matter-of-fact people. We could honor Mr. Dickens with such
adulation, and such attention as he never found at home; but when it
came to the point of any definite action for the protection of his
rights as an author, we said to Mr. Dickens, with our heart in his
books, but with our hands away from our pockets, "we are our own
law-makers, and must pay you only in--honor!"
How will our matter-of-fact tendencies answer to the calls of Kossuth?
We are not advocates or partisans--least of all--in our EASY CHAIR: we
only seek to chisel out of the rough block of every day talk, that
image of thought which gives it soul and intent.
That the enlarged ideas of Kossuth--independent of their eloquent
exposition from his lips--will meet with the largest and profoundest
sympathy from the whole American people, we can not have a doubt. Nor
can we doubt that that sympathy will lend such material aid, as was
never before lent to any cause, not our own. But the question arises,
how far such sympathy and individual aid will help forward a poor,
down-trodden, and distant nation, toward the vigor of health and power.
Sympathies and favoring opinion may do much toward alleviating the pains
of wounded hearts and pride; they may, by urgency of expression, spread,
and new leaven the whole thought of the world; but he is a fast thinker
who does not know that this must be the action of time.
We can not but believe that the strongest sympathy, and the most
generous proffers of individual aid will, after all, help very little
toward practical issues, in any new endeavor of Hungary to be itself
again. Poor Poland is a mournful monument of the truth of what we say.
How then is our great Guest to derive really tangible aid in the
furtherance of what lies so near his heart?
We pose the question, not for political discussion, but as the question
which is giving a slant to all the talk of the town. To break peace with
Austria and with Russia, and openly to take ground, as a government,
with the subdued Hungarians, is what very few presume to hint--much less
to think soberly of. The great Hungarian, himself, would hardly seem to
have entertained such a possibility. We suppose his efforts rather to be
directed toward the enkindling of such a large love of liberty, and such
international sympathy among all people who are really free, as shall
make a giant league of opinion, whose thunders shall mutter their
anathemas against oppression, in every parliament and every congress;
and by congruity of action, as well as congruity of impulse, fix the
bounds to oppression, and fright every tyrant from advance--if not from
security.
In all this we only sketch the color of the Hungarian talk.
* * * * *
Winter gayeties, meantime, have taken up their march toward the fatigues
of spring. Furs, and velvet mantillas float along the streets, as so
many pleasant decoys to graver thought. The opera, they say, has held
its old predominance, with a stronger lift than ever, in the fashion of
the town. Poor Lola Montes, shadowed under the folds of the Hungarian
banner, has hardly pointed the talk of an hour. We can not learn that
any triumphal arch graced the entry of the Spanish Aspasia, or that her
coming is celebrated in any more signal way, than by the uncorking of a
few extra bottles of Bavarian beer. That many will see her if she
dances, there can hardly be a doubt; but that many will boast the seeing
her, is far more doubtful. We can wink at occasional lewdness at home,
but when Europe sends us the queen of its lewdness to worship, we
forswear the issue, and like Agamemnon at the sacrifice of
Iphigenia--hide our faces in our mantles.
We observe that our usually staid friend M. GAILLARDET, of the
_Courrier_, records in one of his later letters, an interview with the
witching LOLA; and it would seem that he had been wrought upon to speak
for her an apologetic word. With all respect, however, for the French
Republican, we think it will need far more than his casual
encouragement, to lift the Bavarian countess into the range of American
esteem.
Speaking of the French Republic, we can not forbear putting in record a
little episode of its nice care for itself. M. DUMAS, the favorite
dramatist, publishes a letter in one of the Paris journals, in way of
consolation for the imprisoned editor of the _Avenement_.
"My dear Vacquerie," he says, "while I am on the lookout for sundry
notices of what may touch the honorable institution of our Press
censorship, I send you this fact, which is worthy to stand beside
the official condemnation of the verses of VICTOR HUGO. M. GUIZARD,
the director in such matters, has refused me, personally, the
request to reproduce my _Chevalier de la Maison Rouge_; and the
reason is, that my poor play has contributed to the accession of
the Republic!"
Ever yours,
"A. DUMAS."
We are only surprised at the audacity of M. DUMAS, in giving publicity
to such a note.
* * * * *
As a curious and not unnatural issue, growing out of the free
appropriation of Italian treasure, by the French Republicans of the last
century, we notice the fact, that a certain Signor BRASCHI, whose
father, or grandfather, was a near connection of Pope Pius VI., has
recently laid claim to some of the most valuable pictures in the Louvre.
It appears from his representations--supported by voluminous documentary
evidence--that these objects pertained to a certain villa near Rome,
occupied at the time of the French invasion by the Braschi family.
Signor BRASCHI, in quality of heir, now claims the spoils, including
some of the most brilliant works of the Paris gallery. He avows his
willingness, however, to waive his rights, in consideration of a few
millions of francs, to be paid within the year. We have a fear that the
only reparation the Republic will bestow, will be the offer of an airy
apartment in the _Maison des Fous_.
* * * * *
Keeping to Paris gossip, for want of any thing special in that way
belonging to our own capital, we find this little half-incident
chronicled in the French papers.
Ladies, it is known (or if not known may hence forth be known) traffic
in the funds at the Paris Exchange, in a way that would utterly amaze
our princesses of the salon. You do not indeed see them upon the marble
floor of the stately _Bourse_ itself, but at the hour of "the board,"
you are very sure to see a great many luxurious-looking little carriages
drawn up in the neighborhood, and a great many ladies, at that special
hour, are particularly zealous in their admiration of the old paintings
which the dealers behind the Exchange, offer "at a bargain." Very
quick-running footmen are also stirring, and report sales and offers to
their mistresses with most commendable activity.
Among these outsiders, some Paris romancist has remarked lately a very
elegantly-dressed lady, who, three times a week, drew up her phaeton
opposite the doors of the Vaudeville Theatre (which all _habitues_ will
remember, is just opposite the Bourse). Chance passers imagined her to
be some actress of the boards, and gazed at her accordingly. But it was
observed that an "agent de change" made repeated visits to her little
phaeton, and at the closing of the board our lady disappeared down the
Rue Vivienne.
Upon a certain day--no matter when--the bystanders were startled by
piercing shrieks issuing from the phaeton of "my lady," and all ran, to
prevent as they supposed, some terrible crime. Sympathy proved vain; and
to the inquiries of the police the "man of business" only made
phlegmatic reply, that the funds had fallen some ten per cent., and "my
lady" was ruined.
Three days after, and the phaeton was a _voiture de remise_ in the Rue
Lepelletier. The coachman had negotiated the sale, but all tidings of
"my lady" were lost.
* * * * *
Guinot, to whom we have been indebted again and again, has twisted out
of his brain (we can not doubt it) this little happening of Paris life,
which, if not true, is yet as characteristic of France as a revolution.
Two funerals, he says, on a certain day wended their course toward the
cemetery of _Pere la Chaise_. One bier bore the body of a man; the
other, the body of a woman. The day was a sour November day--with the
half-mist and half-frostiness that sometimes ushers in the Paris winter.
The mourners were few--as mourners at Paris are generally few. Arrived
within the gates, one _cortege_ took the path leading to the right; the
other turned to the left. The ceremonies being over, a single mourner
only remained at each tomb.
At the grave of the lady lingered a man, apparently overcome with grief;
at the grave of the man--a lady, who seemed equally overcome. Their
adieus were lengthened at the graves until all the attendants had
disappeared. By chance, the grief of the two parties seemed to show the
same amount of persistent sorrow, and of lingering regard: thus it
happened that in retracing their slow and saddened steps toward the main
entrance, they met in the grand alley face to face. They exchanged a
look of sorrow, and an exclamation of surprise.
"You, madame?"
"_Vous, monsieur?_"
"But this is very strange," continued the gentleman, "is it not? We have
met so rarely, since we broke our marriage contract ten years ago!"
"The chance which has led me here is a very sad one, monsieur," and
madame says it in very dolorous tones.
"It is as much for me; I have followed to the grave a person very dear
to me."
"Ah," returns madame, "she is dead! I, too, have lost my dearest
friend," and she sobs.
"I beg you would accept, madame, my sincerest sympathy."
"And you too, sir; believe me, my heart bleeds for you."
Upon thus much of mournful interchange of grief, supervenes a
silence--only broken by the low steps of the parties, and by occasional
sobs of lament.
Guinot opens their conversation again thus:
_Gentleman._--"Alas, existence seems to me very worthless--all is dark!"
_Lady._--"Ah, what must it be for me, then?"
_Gentleman._--"How can I ever replace her fondness?"
_Lady._--"To whom can I confide my griefs?"
_Gentleman._--"What home will now receive me?"
_Lady._--"Upon whose arm can I lean?"
In such humor our racy _feuilletonist_ traces their walk and
conversation along the parterres of that Paris garden of death; at the
gate he dismisses one of the two carriages which attend them; he crowns
their mutual offices of consolation with a happy reunion--never to be
broken--till one shall be again a mourner, and the other a tenant of the
tomb.
Thus, says he, grief moralizes; and wise resolutions ride at an easy
gallop, into broken hearts!
And thus, we say, French ingenuity makes every hearse the carrier of a
romance; and seasons the deepest woe with the piquancy of an intrigue!
Yet another story is swimming in our ink-stand; and with a gracious lift
of the pen we shall stretch it upon our sheet.
At Viterbo, which, as every one ought to know, lies within the Italian
confines, lived once a poor peasant, with a poor, but pretty daughter,
whose name was MARIANNE. She had not the silks of our ladies, or the
refinements, so called, of fashion. She wore a rough peasant robe, and
watched her father's kids as they wandered upon the olive-shaded slopes
of Viterbo.
At Viterbo lived a youth whose name was CARLO. Carlo was prone to
ramble; and albeit of higher family than the peasant's daughter, he saw
and loved, and wooed and won the pretty Marianne. They were betrothed in
the hearing only of the drowsy tinkle of the bells that hung upon the
necks of the kids, over which Marianne was shepherdess. To marry they
were afraid. He feared the anger of his father; and she feared to desert
the cottage of her mother.
Carlo, swearing devotion, went away to Rome and became an advocate. The
revolution stirred the stolid Romans, and Carlo enlisted under
Garibaldi. After a series of fights and of escapes, Carlo found himself
in five years from his parting with the pretty peasantess of Viterbo, a
refugee, in the _Cafe de France_, which stands behind the Palais Royal
at Paris. Lamenting over his broken fortunes, and mourning for his poor
Italy, he sauntered, upon a certain day, into the Garden of Plants, upon
the further side of the Seine. It is a place where the neighboring world
go to breathe the air of woods, and to relieve the stifling atmosphere
of the city, with the openness and freedom of Nature. (In parenthesis,
let us ask, when shall New York civilization reach such a kind provision
for life?)
Carlo wandered, dejected, sad, musing of bitterness, when his eye fell
upon a face that seemed familiar. It was the face of a lady--in Parisian
costume, with a Parisian air--but very like to the pretty peasantess of
Viterbo. He followed her--met her--accosted her; there was no mistaking
her frighted look of recognition. She was distant and cool--for the
fates had bound her fortunes to those of a Parisian _bourgeois_, and she
was the wife of the very respectable Monsieur Bovin. Carlo was neither
cool nor distant: for grief had cast him down, and now first, hope
blessed him with a shadow of the joys that were gone. Madame Bovin's
distance wore off under the impassioned addresses of the poor refugee,
and again and again Carlo found his way to the _Jardin des Plantes_.
Finally (alas for Paris virtue!) the household of the respectable
Monsieur Bovin, was, upon a certain morning, deserted; only a little
note of poor French told the disconsolate husband, that the pretty
Marianne could no longer subdue her new kindled love for her Italian
home, and had gone back to the hills of Viterbo.
The sorrowing husband, though he could not purchase content, could yet
purchase the services of the police. Through them, he tracked the
runaway lovers to the borders of France. Thereafter the search was vain.
But, alas, for poor Carlo, he was recognized by the myrmidons of the
powers that be, thrown into a dungeon, and report tells a story of his
death.
As for the pretty peasant, Marianne, she wandered forlorn to her
father's home; but the father's home was gone; and now, for menial
hire--in her peasant dress (in place of the Paris robes) and with a
saddened heart--she watches the kids, upon the olive-shaded slopes of
Viterbo!
EDITOR'S DRAWER.
We are at the beginning of another year; a season in which all pause,
and "take note of time"--time, the vehicle that carries every thing into
nothing. "We talk," says a quaint English author, "of _spending_ our
time, as if it were so much interest of a perpetual annuity; whereas, we
are all living upon our capital; and he who wastes a single day, throws
away that which can never be recalled or recovered:
'Our moments fly apace,
Nor will our minutes stay;
Just like a flood our hasty days
Are sweeping us away!'"
It is well to think of these things, standing upon the verge of a new
year. But let us not trouble the reader with a prolonged homily.
* * * * *
Every body will remember the missionary at one of the Cannibal Islands,
who asked one of the natives if he had ever known a certain predecessor
of his upon the island, who had labored in the moral vineyard there?
"Yes, we know him well--we _ate_ a part of him." Now, the "piece of a
cold missionary on the sideboard for a morning lunch," of which the
witty Sydney Smith made mention, is scarcely a less objectionable dish,
on the score of the material, than the chief feature of a repast, held,
according to a French journal, not a thousand miles from the Ascot
race-course, in England:
"At the recent races at Ascot the famous horse Tiberius broke his leg,
by bounding against one of the posts of the barrier, while preparing for
the race. His owner, the Lord Millbank, lost ten thousand pounds in
betting upon his noble steed, besides his value, and others also lost
very heavily: the law, of course, being that all bets should be paid
whether the failure to win came from the less speed or from accident.
"Three days afterward, Lord Millbank gave a very sumptuous dinner. The
most distinguished of the English peerage were present, and the
conviviality ran exceedingly high. Toward the close, the noble host rose
in his place, and proposed an oblation to the health of the departed
Tiberius.
"The toast was clamorously received, but the speaker remained standing
with his glass in his hand.
"'We drink to Tiberius,' said Milord Millbank, when the shouts had
subsided; 'to Tiberius the most beautiful, the most admirable, the most
spirited courser whose hoofs ever trod upon our glorious British turf!'
"Shouts again resounded to the roof in vehement peals.
"'You know,' continued his lordship, 'the achievements of this horse.
His deeds belong to history. Fame has taken charge of his glory. But it
belongs to me, and to you, my lords and gentlemen, to do honor to his
mortal remains! I wished that this lofty courser should have a burial
worthy of his great, his immortal deservings. He has _had_ it, my lords
and gentlemen, he has HAD it! My cook has fitly prepared him, and you
have feasted upon him to-day! Yes, my lords and gentlemen, this repast
which you have relished so keenly--these dishes which awakened the so
frequent inquiry, 'What animal could be so delicious?'--that animal, my
lords and gentlemen, was Tiberius! It is that noble courser whose mortal
remains now repose in your stomachs! May your digestions be light!'
"At these words the enthusiasm concentrated for a moment--possibly with
some vague thought of an immediate resurrection--but with a sudden
outburst of 'Hurrahs!' the sentiment took the turn of sublimity, and
another glowing bumper was sent to join the departed courser in his
metempsychosis."
The English papers sometimes get off telling jokes against their
neighbors across the Channel, but seldom any thing better than this.
Besides, how thoroughly _French_ it is, both in the conception and
execution! Its origin could never be mistaken.
* * * * *