"What earthly feeling unabash'd can dwell
In Nature's mighty presence? mid the swell
Of everlasting hills, the roar of floods,
And frown of rocks and pomp of waving woods?
These their own grandeur on the soul impress,
And bid each passion feel its nothingness."
HEMANS.
"La grace est toujours unie à la magnificence, dans les
scenes de la nature."--CHATEAUBRIAND'S "_Atala_."
It was morning. The storm had passed away, and the early sunlight was
streaming gloriously over the fresh landscape. The atmosphere,
discharged of its electric burden, was playing cool and free among the
grass-tops; the lark was carolling in the clouds above its grassy
nest; the deer was rising from his sprinkled lair, and the morning
mists were rolling heavily in masses along the skirts of the prairie
woodlands, as I mounted my horse at the door of the cabin beneath
whose roof I had passed the night. Before me at no great distance,
upon the edge of the plain, rose an open park of lofty oaks, with a
mossy turf beneath; and the whole scene, lighted up by the sunbeams
breaking through the ragged mists, presented a most gorgeous
spectacle. The entire wilderness of green; every bough, spray, leaf;
every blade of grass, wild weed, and floweret, was hung with trembling
{200} drops of liquid light, which, reflecting and refracting the
sun-rays, threw back all the hues of the iris. It was indeed a morning
of beauty after the tempest; and Nature seemed to have arrayed herself
in her bridal robes, glittering in all their own matchless jewellery
to greet its coming.
Constituted as we all naturally are, there exist, bound up within the
secresies of the bosom, certain emotions and sentiments, designed by
our Creator to leap forth in joyousness in view of the magnificence
of his works; certain springs of exquisite delicacy deep hidden in the
chambers of the breast, but which, touched or breathed upon never so
lightly, strike the keys of feeling and fill the heart with harmony.
And I envy not the feelings of that man who, amid all "the glories of
this visible world," can stand a passionless beholder; who feels not
his pulses thrill with quickened vibration, and his heart to heave in
fuller gush as he views the beneficence of his Maker in the
magnificence of his works; who from all can turn calmly away, and in
the chill, withering accents of Atheism, pronounce it the offspring of
blind fatality, the resultant of meaningless chance!
When we look abroad upon the panorama of creation, so palpable is the
impress of an omnipotent hand, and so deeply upon all its features is
planted the demonstration of design, that it would almost seem, in the
absence of reason and revelation, we need but contemplate the scenery
of nature to be satisfied of the existence of an all-wise,
all-powerful Being, whose workmanship it is. The {201} firmament, with
its marshalled and glittering hosts; the earth, spread out in
boundlessness at our feet, now draperied in the verdant freshness of
springtime, anon in the magnificent glories of summer sultriness,
again teeming with the mellow beauty of autumnal harvesting, and then
slumbering in the chill, cheerless desolation of winter, all proclaim
a Deity eternal in existence, boundless in might. The mountain that
rears its bald forehead to the clouds; the booming cataract; the
unfathomed, mysterious sounding ocean; the magnificent sweep of the
Western prairie; the eternal flow of the Western river, proclaim, in
tones extensive as the universe--tones not to be misunderstood, that
their CREATOR lives.
It is a circumstance in the character of the human mind, which not
the most careless or casual observer of its operations can fail to
have remarked, that the contemplation of all grand and immeasurable
objects has a tendency to enlarge and elevate the understanding, lend
a loftier tone to the feelings, and, agreeable to the moral
constitution of man, carry up his thoughts and his emotions directly
to their Author, "from Nature up to Nature's God." The savage son of
the wilderness, as he roams through his grand and gloomy forests,
which for centuries have veiled the soil at their base from the
sunlight, perceives a solemn awe stealing over him as he listens to
the surges of the winds rolling among the heavy branches; and in
Nature's simplicity, untaught but by her untutored promptings, he
believes that "the Great Spirit is whispering in {202} the tree tops."
He stands by the side of Niagara. With subdued emotions he gazes upon
the majestic world of floods as they hurry on. They reach the barrier!
they leap its precipice! they are lost in thunder and in foam! And, as
the raging waters disappear in the black abyss; as the bow of the
covenant, "like hope upon a deathbed," flings its irised arch in
horrible beauty athwart the hell of elements, the bewildered child of
nature feels his soul swell within his bosom; the thought rises
solemnly upon him, "the Great Spirit is here;" and with timid
solicitude he peers through the forest shades around him for some
palpable demonstration of His presence. And such is the effect of all
the grand scenes of nature upon the mind of the savage: they lead it
up to the "Great Spirit." Upon this principle is the fact alone to be
accounted for, that no race of beings has yet been discovered
destitute of _all_ idea of a Supreme Intelligence to whom is due
homage and obedience. It is _His_ voice they hear in the deep hour of
midnight, when the red lightning quivers along the bosom of the cloud,
and the thunder-peal rattles through the firmament. It is _He_ they
recognise in the bright orb of day, as he blazes from the eastern
horizon; or, "like a monarch on a funeral pile," sinks to his rest.
_He_ is beheld in the pale queen of night, as in silvery radiance she
walks the firmament, and in the beautiful star of evening as it sinks
behind his native hills. In the soft breathing of the "summer wind"
and in the terrible sublimity of the autumn tempest; in the gentle dew
of heaven and {203} the summer torrent; in the sparkling rivulet and
the wide, wild river; in the delicate prairie-flower and the gnarled
monarch of the hills; in the glittering minnow and the massive
narwhal; in the fairy humbird and the sweeping eagle; in each and in
all of the creations of universal nature, the mind of the savage sees,
feels, _realizes_ the presence of a Deity.
"Earth with her thousand voices praises God!"
is the beautiful sentiment of Coleridge's hymn in the Vale of
Chamouni; and its truth will be doubted by no man of refined
sensibility or cultivated taste. In viewing the grand scenery of
nature, the mind of the savage and the poet alike perceive the
features of Deity; on the bright page of creation, in characters
enstamped by his own mighty hand, they read his perfections and his
attributes; the vast volume is spread out to every eye; he who will
may read and be wise. And yet, delightful and instructive as the study
of Nature's creations cannot fail to be, it is a strange thing that,
by many, so little regard is betrayed for them. How often do we gaze
upon the orb of day, as he goes down the western heavens in glory to
his rest; how often do we look away to the far-off star, as it pursues
in beauty its lonely pathway, distinct amid the myriads that surround
it; how often do we glance abroad upon the splendours of earth, and
then, from all this demonstration of Omnipotent goodness turn away
with not _one_ pulsation of gratitude to the Creator of suns and
stars; with not one aspiration of feeling, one acknowledgment of
regard to {204} the Lord of the universe? Yet surely, whatever
repinings may at times imbitter the unsanctified bosom in view of the
moral, the intellectual, or social arrangements of existence, there
should arise but one emotion, and that--_praise_ in view of
_inanimate_ nature. Here is naught but power and goodness; now, as at
the dawn of Creation's morning, "all is very good." But these are
scenes upon which the eye has turned from earliest infancy; and to
this cause alone may we attribute the fact, that though their grandeur
may never weary or their glories pall upon the sense, yet our gaze
upon them is often that of coldness and indifferent regard. Still
their influence upon us, though inappreciable, is sure. If we look
abroad upon the race of man, we cannot but admit the conviction that
natural scenery, hardly less than climate, government, or religion,
lays its impress upon human character. It is where Nature exhibits
herself in her loftiest moods that her influence on man is most
observable. 'Tis there we find the human mind most chainlessly free,
and the attachments of patriotic feeling most tenacious and exalted.
To what influence more than to that of the gigantic features of nature
around him, amid which he first opened his eyes to the light, and with
which from boyhood days he has been conversant, are we to attribute
that indomitable hate to oppression, that enthusiastic passion for
liberty, and that wild idolatry of country which characterizes the
Swiss mountaineer? _He_ would be free as the geyer-eagle of his native
cliffs, whose eyrie hangs in the clouds, whose eye brightens in {205}
the sunlight, whose wild shriek rises on the tempest, and whose fierce
brood is nurtured amid crags untrodden by the footstep of man. To
_his_ ear the sweep of the terrible _lauwine_, the dash of the
mountain cataract, the sullen roar of the mountain forest, is a music
for which, in a foreign land, he pines away and dies. And all these
scenes have but one language--and that is chainless _independence_!
It is a fact well established, and one to be accounted for upon no
principle other than that which we advance, that the dwellers in
mountainous regions, and those whose homes are amid the grandeur of
nature, are found to be more attached to the spot of their nativity
than are other races of men, and that they are ever more forward to
defend their ice-clad precipices from the attack of the invader. For
centuries have the Swiss inhabited the mountains of the Alps. They
inhabit them still, and have never been entirely subdued. But
"The free Switzer yet bestrides _alone_
His chainless mountains."
Of what _other_ nation of Europe, if we except the Highlands of
Scotland, may anything like the same assertion with truth be made? We
are told that the mountains of Caucasus and Himmalaya, in Asia, still
retain the race of people which from time immemorial have possessed
them. The same accents echo along their "tuneful cliffs" as centuries
since were listened to by the patriarchs; while at their base, chance,
and change, and conquest, like successive floods, have swept the
delta-plains of {206} the Ganges and Euphrates. These are but isolated
instances from a multitude of similar character, which might be
advanced in support of the position we have assumed. Nor is it strange
that peculiarities like these should be witnessed. There must ever be
_something_ to love, if the emotion is to be permanently called forth;
it matters little whether it be in the features of inanimate nature or
in those of man; and, alike in both cases, do the boldest and most
prominent create the deepest impression. Just so it is with our
admiration of character; there must exist bold and distinctive traits,
good or bad, to arouse for it unusual regard. A monotony of character
or of feeling is as wearisome as a monotony of sound or scenery.
But to return from a digression which has become unconscionably long.
After a brisk gallop of a few hours through the delightful scenery of
the Barrens, I found myself approaching the little town of
Carlinville. As I drew nigh to the village, I found it absolutely
reeling under the excitement of the "Grand Menagerie." From all points
of the compass, men, women, and children, emerging from the forest,
came pouring into the place, some upon horses, some in farm-wagons,
and troops of others on foot, slipping and sliding along in a fashion
most distressing to behold. The soil in this vicinity is a black loam
of surpassing fertility; and, when saturated with moisture, it adheres
to the sole with most pertinacious tenacity, more like to an amalgam
of soot and soap-grease than to any other substance that has ever come
under my cognizance. The inn {207} was thronged by neighbouring
farmers, some canvassing the relative and individual merits of the
_Zebedee_ and the _Portimous_; others sagely dwelling upon the mooted
point of peril to be apprehended from the great _sarpent_--_Boy
Contractor_; while little unwashen wights did run about and
dangerously prophecy on the recent disappearance of the big elephant.
Carlinville is a considerable village, situated on the margin of a
pleasant prairie, on the north side of Macoupin Creek, and is the seat
of justice for the county. The name _Macoupin_ is said to be of
aboriginal derivation, and by the early French chroniclers was spelled
and pronounced _Ma-qua-pin_, until its present uncomely combination of
letters became legalized on the statute-book. The term, we are told
by Charlevoix, the French _voyageur_, is the Indian name of an
esculent with a broad corolla, found in many of the ponds and creeks
of Illinois, especially along the course of the romantic stream
bearing its name. The larger roots, eaten raw, were poisonous, and the
natives were accustomed to dig ovens in the earth, into which, being
walled up with flat stones and heated, was deposited the vegetable.
After remaining for forty-eight hours in this situation, the
deleterious qualities were found extracted, and the root being dried,
was esteemed a luxury by the Indians. The region bordering upon
Carlinville is amazingly fertile, and proportionally divided into
prairie and timber--a circumstance by no means unworthy of notice.
There has been a design of establishing {208} here a Theological
Seminary, but the question of its site has been a point easier to
discuss than to decide.[142] My tarry at the village was a brief one,
though I became acquainted with a number of its worthy citizens; and
in the log-office of a young limb of _legality_, obtained, as a
special distinction, a glance at a forthcoming "Fourth-of-July"
oration, fruitful in those sonorous periods and stereotyped patriotics
indispensable on such occasions, and, at all hazard, made and provided
for them. As I was leaving the village I was met by multitudes,
pouring in from all sections of the surrounding region, literally
thronging the ways; mothers on horseback, with young children in their
arms; fathers with daughters and wives _en croupe_, and at intervals
an individual, in quiet possession of an entire animal, came sliding
along in the mud, in fashion marvellously entertaining to witness. A
huge cart there likewise was, which excited no small degree of
admiration as it rolled on, swarmed with women and children. An aged
patriarch, with hoary locks resting upon his shoulders, enacted the
part of charioteer to this primitive establishment; and now, in
zealous impatience to reach the scene of action, from which the
braying horns came resounding loud and clear through the forest, he
was wretchedly belabouring, by means of an endless whip, six unhappy
oxen to augment their speed.
I had travelled not many miles when a black cloud spread itself
rapidly over the sky, and in a few moments the thunder began to
bellow, the lightnings to flash, and the rain to fall in torrents.
{209} Luckily enough for me, I found myself in the neighbourhood of
man's habitation. Leaping hastily from my steed, and lending him an
impetus with my riding whip which carried him safely beneath a
hospitable shed which stood thereby, I betook myself, without ceremony
or delay, to the mansion house itself, glad enough to find its roof
above me as the first big raindrops came splashing to the ground. The
little edifice was tenanted by three females and divers flaxen-pated,
sun-bleached urchins of all ages and sizes, and, at the moment of my
entrance, all in high dudgeon, because, forsooth, they were not to be
permitted to drench themselves in the anticipated shower. Like Noah's
dove, they were accordingly pulled within the ark, and thereupon
thought proper to set up their several and collective _Ebenezers_.
"Well!" was my exclamation, in true Yankee fashion, as I bowed my head
low in entering the humble postern; "we're going to get pretty
considerable of a sprinkling, I guess." "I reckon," was the
sententious response of the most motherly-seeming of the three women,
at the same time vociferating to the three larger of the children,
"Oh, there, you Bill, Sall, Polly, honeys, get the gentleman a cheer!
Walk in, sir; set down and take a seat!" This evolution of "setting
down and taking a seat" was at length successfully effected, after
sundry manoeuvrings by way of planting the three pedestals of the
uncouth tripod upon the same plane, and avoiding the fearful yawnings
in the _puncheon_ floor. When all was at length quiet, I {210}
improved the opportunity of gazing about me to explore the curious
habitation into which I found myself inserted.
The structure, about twenty feet square, had originally been
constructed of rough logs, the interstices stuffed with fragments of
wood and stone, and daubed with clay; the chimney was built up of
sticks laid crosswise, and plastered with the same material to resist
the fire. Such had been the backwoodsman's cabin in its primitive
prime; but time and the elements had been busy with the little
edifice, and sadly had it suffered. Window or casement was there none,
neither was there need thereof; for the hingeless door stood ever
open, the clay was disappearing from the intervals between the logs,
and the huge fireplace of stone exhibited yawning apertures,
abundantly sufficient for all the purposes of light and ventilation to
the single apartment of the building. The _puncheon_ floor I have
alluded to, and it corresponded well with the roof of the cabin, which
had never, in its best estate, been designed to resist the peltings of
such a pitiless torrent as was now assailing it. The water soon began
trickling in little rivulets upon my shoulders, and my only
alternative was my umbrella for shelter. The furniture of the
apartment consisted of two plank-erections designed for bedsteads,
which, with a tall clothes-press, divers rude boxes, and a
side-saddle, occupied a better moiety of the area; while a rough
table, a shelf against the wall, upon which stood a water-pail, a
gourd, and a few broken trenchers, completed the household
paraphernalia {211} of this most unique of habitations. A
half-consumed flitch of bacon suspended in the chimney, and a huge
iron pot upon the fire, from which issued a savoury indication of the
seething mess within, completes the "still-life" of the picture. Upon
one of the beds reclined one of the females to avoid the rain; a
second was alternating her attentions between her infant and her
needle; while the third, a buxom young baggage, who, by-the-by, was on
a visit to her sister, was busying herself in the culinary occupations
of the household, much the chief portion of which consisted in
watching the huge dinner-pot aforesaid, with its savoury contents.
After remaining nearly two hours in the cabin, in hopes that the storm
would abate, I concluded that, since my umbrella was no sinecure
_within_ doors, it might as well be put in requisition _without_, and
mounted my steed, though the rain was yet falling. I had proceeded but
a few miles upon the muddy pathway when my compass informed me that I
had varied from my route, a circumstance by no means uncommon on the
Western prairies. During the whole afternoon, therefore, I continued
upon my way across a broad pathless prairie, some twelve or eighteen
miles in extent, and dreary enough withal, until nightfall, when I
rejoiced to find myself the inmate of the comfortable farmhouse upon
its edge from which my last was dated.
_Hillsborough, Ill._