CHAPTER VI.

The Squire was pacing to and fro in the upper end of the room, and the

woman and children were seated on the low bench near the counter.

Phyllis lifted her eyes to my face as I entered, with a hopeful,

inquiring expression, but they fell again when the trader said: 'Thet's

the gal fur ye, Mr. Kirke; the most perfectest gal in seven States; good

at onything, washin', ironin', nussin', breedin'; rig'larly fotched up;

worth her weight in gold; d----d if she haint.' Turning then to Preston,

he exclaimed: 'Why, Squire, how ar ye?'

'Very well,' replied my friend, coolly.

'How's times?' continued the trader.

'Very well,' said Preston, in a tone which showed a decided distaste for

conversation.

'Well, glad on it. I heerd ye were hard put. Glad on it, Squire.'

The Squire took no further notice of him; and, turning to his property,

the trader said: 'Stand up, gal, and let me show the gentleman what yer

made of. Doan't look so down in the mouth, gal; this gentleman's got a

friend thet'll keep ye in the style ye's fotched up ter.'

Phyllis rose and made a strong effort to appear composed.

'Now, Mr. Kirke, luk at thet rig,' said Larkin, seizing her rudely by

the arm and turning her half around; 'straight's a rail. Luk at thet

ankle and fut--nimble's a squirrel, and healthy!--why, ye couldn't

sicken har if ye put har ter hosspetal work.'

'Well, never mind. I see what she is. What's your price?'

'But ye haint seed har, yit! She's puny like, I knows, but she's solid,

_I_ reckon; thar haint a pound of loose stuff on har--it's all muscle.

See thar--jest look o' thet,' and he stripped the sleeve of her dress

to the elbow; 'thar's a arm fur ye--whiter'n buttermilk, and harder'n

cheese. Feel on't.'

The poor woman submitted meekly to this rough handling of her person,

but I said impatiently:

'I tell you, Larkin, I'm satisfied. Name your price. I've no time to

lose: the stage will be along in five minutes.'

'The stage! Lord bless ye, Mr. Kirke, it's broke down--'twon't be har

fur an hour--I knows. Now look o' thet,' he continued, drawing the poor

woman's thin dress tightly across her limbs, while he proceeded, despite

my repeated attempts to interrupt him, with his disgusting exhibitions,

which it would be disgraceful even to describe. 'Ye doan't mind, do ye,

gal?' he added, chucking her under the chin in a rude, familiar way, and

giving a brutal laugh. Phyllis shrank away from him, but made no reply.

She had evidently braced her mind to the ordeal, and was prepared to

bear anything rather than offend him. I determined to stop any further

proceeding, and said to him:

'I tell you, Larkin, I'm satisfied. I cannot waste more time in this

manner. Name your price at once.'

'Time! Mr. Kirke? why yer time arn't worth nothin' jest now. The stage

won't be 'long till dark. Ye haint seed half on har, yit. I doan't want

ter sell ye a damaged article. I want ter show ye she's sound's a

nut--_ye won't pay my price ef I doan't_. Look a thar, now,' and with a

quick, dexterous movement, he tore open the front of her dress. * * * * *

The poor girl, unable to use her hands, bent over nearly double, and

strained the children to her breast to hide her shame. A movement at the

other end of the room made me look at the Squire. With his jaws set, his

hands clenched, and his face on fire, he bounded toward the trader. In a

moment he would have been upon him. My own blood boiled, but, knowing

that an outbreak would be fatal to our purpose, I planted myself firmly

in his way, and said, as I took him by the arm and held him by main

force:

'Stand back, Preston; this is my affair.'

'Yes, Squire,' added the trader, 'ye'd better be quiet. Ye'll turn

trader, yerself, yit. If things is true, ye'll have ter begin on yer own

nigs, mighty sudden.'

'If I am brought to that,' replied the Squire, with the calm dignity

which was natural to him, 'I shall treat them like human beings--not

like brutes.'

'Ye'll show 'em off the best how ye kin; let ye alone fur thet; I know

yer hull parson tribe; thar haint nary a honest one among ye.'

Preston turned silently away, as if disdaining to waste words on such a

subject; and I said to the trader:

'Mr. Larkin, I've told you I've no time to lose. Name your price at

once, or I'll not buy the woman at all.'

'Well, jest as ye say, Mr. Kirke. But ye see she's a rare 'un; would

bring two thousand in Orleans, sure's a gun.'

'Pshaw! you know better than that; but, name your price.'

'What, fur the hull, or the 'ooman alone?'

'Either way; I've no particular use for the children, but I'll buy them

if cheap.'

'Oh! _do_ buy us,' cried the little girl, taking hold of my coat; 'do

buy us--please do, good massa.'

'Shet up, ye young whelp,' said the trader, raising his whip. The little

thing slunk back affrighted, and commenced sobbing, but said no more.

'Well, Mr. Kirke, the lot cost me sixteen fifty, hard rocks, and 'twas

dirt cheap, 'cause the 'ooman alone'll bring more'n thet. I couldn't hev

bought har fur thet, but har owner wus hard up. Ye see he's Gin'ral----,

down ter Newbern, one of yer rig'lar 'ristocrats, the raal ole-fashioned

sort--keeps a big plantation, house in town; fine wines; fine wimmin;

fast hosses; and goes it mighty strong. Well, he's allers a trifle

under--ev'ry year 'bout two thousand short; and ev'ry year I buy a

couple or so of nigs on him ter make it up. He's a pertickerler friend

o' mine, ye see; he thinks a heap o' me--he does. Well, when I gets

'long thar t'other day, he says ter me, says he: 'Lark,' (he allers

calls me Lark; thet's the name I goes by 'mong my intimate 'quaintance),

well, says he; 'Lark, thar's Phylly. I want ye ter take har. She's the

likeliest gal in the world--good old Virginny blood, father one of the

raal old stock. Ye knows she's right, good ev'ry way, prays like a camp

meetin', and virtuous ter kill; thar ain't none round har thet's up to

har at thet--tried ter cum round har myself, but couldn't git nigher'n a

rod--won't hev but one man, and'll stick ter him like death; jest the

gal fur one o' them New Orleans bloods as wants one thet'll be true ter

'em. Do ye take, Lark?' says he. 'Well, I do, says I, and I knows just

the feller fur har; one of yer raal high-flyers--rich's a Jew--twenty

thousand a year--lives like a prince--got one or two on 'em now; but he

says to me when I comes off, 'Lark,' says he, 'find me a gal, raather

pale, tidy, hard's a nut, and not bigger'n a cotton bale.' Wall, says I,

'I will,' and, Gin'ral, Phylly's the gal! She'll hev good times, live

like a queen, hev wines, dresses, hosses, operas, and all them sort o'

things--ye knows them ar fellers doan't stand fur trifles.' 'Yes, I

knows, Lark,' says the Gin'ral, 'and bein' it's so, ye kin take har,

Lark; but I wouldn't sell har ter ary nother man livin'--if I would,

d----n me. Ye kin hev har, Lark, but ye must take the young 'uns; she's

got two, ye knows, and it hain't Christian-like ter sell 'em apart.'

'D----n the young 'uns, Gin'ral,' says I,' I karn't do nary a thing with

them. What'll one o' them young bloods want o' them? They goes in fur

home manufactures.' 'Yes, I knows, Lark,' says he, 'but ye kin sell 'em

off thar--ony planter'll buy 'em--they'll pay ter raise. They're two

likely little gals, ye knows; honest born, white father, and'll make

han'some wimmin--han'somer'n thar mother, and sell higher when they's

grow'd; ye'd better take 'em, Lark. If ye doan't, I'm d----d if I'll

sell ye the mother; fur, ye see, I _must_ have the hull vally, now,

that's honest.' 'Wall, Gin'ral,' says I, 'ye allers talks right out,

that's what I likes in ye. What's the price?' 'Wall,' says he, 'bein'

it's ye, and ye've a good master in yer eye for Phylly, I'll say two

thousand fur the lot--the gal alone'll fetch twenty-five hun'red down

ter Orleans.' 'Whew!' says I, 'Gin'ral, ye've been a takin' suthin'.

(But he hadn't; he war soberer than a church clock; 'twarn't more'n

'lev'n, and he's never drunk 'fore evenin'.) Wall,' says I, 'karn't

think of it, nohow, Gin'ral.' Then he come down ter eighteen, but I

counted out sixteen fifty--good rags of the old State Bank--and I'm

blamed if he didn't take it. I'd no idee he wud; but debt, Mr. Kirke,

debt's the devil--but it helps us, 'cause, I s'pose (and he laughed his

hardened, brutal laugh), we do the devil's own work. But be thet how it

may, if these high flyin' planters didn't run inter it, and hev ter pay

up, nigger spec'latin' wouldn't be worth follerin'. Well, I took the

nig's, and thar they is; and bein' it's you, Mr. Kirke, and yer a friend

of the ole man, you shill hev the lot fur a hun'red and fifty more, or

the 'ooman alone fur fifteen hun'red; but ary nother white man couldn't

toch 'em fur less'n two thousand--if they could, d----n me.'

The stage had not arrived, and I had submitted to this lengthy harangue,

because I saw I could more certainly accomplish the purchase by

indulging the humor of the trader. The suspense was, no doubt, agony to

Phyllis, and the Squire manifested decided impatience, but the delay

seemed unavoidable. It was difficult for Preston to control himself. He

chafed like a chained tiger. At first he paced up and down the farther

side of the apartment, then sat down, then rose and paced the room

again, and then again sat down, every now and then glaring upon Larkin

with a look of savage ferocity that showed the wild beast was rising in

him. The trader once in a while looked toward him with a cool unconcern

that indicated two things: nerves of iron, and perfect familiarity with

such demonstrations.

Fearing an explosion, I at last stepped up to the Squire, and said to

him in a low tone: 'Let me beg of you to leave the room--_do_--you may

spoil all.' He made no reply, but did as I requested.

When he had gone, Larkin remarked, in an indifferent way, 'The Squire's

got the devil in him. He's some when his blood's up--edged tools,

dangerous ter handle--he is--I knows him.' I'd ruther have six like Tom

on me, ony time, than one like him. But he karn't skeer me. The man

doan't breathe thet kin turn Jake Larkin a hair.'

'I see he's excited,' I replied; 'but why is he so interested in this

woman?'

'Why? She was fotched up 'long with him--children together. He owned har

till he got in the nine-holes one day, and sold har ter the Gin'ral. I'd

bet a pile the young 'uns ar his'n. He knows har as he do the psa'm

book. Ha! ha!' and he laughed his brutal laugh, as, chucking Phyllis

again under the chin, he asked, 'Doan't he, gal?'

She shrank away from him, but said nothing.

'Doan't be squeamy, gal; out with it; we'll think the more on ye fur't.

Arn't the young 'uns his'n? Didn't ye b'long ter the Squire till he got

so d----d pious five year ago?'

'Yes, master; I belonged to him; Master Robert wus allers pious.'

'Yes, I knows; he wus allers preachin' pious. But didn't ye b'long ter

him--ye knows what I means--till he got so d----d camp-meetin' pious

five year ago?'

'Master Robert was allers camp-meetin' pious,' replied the woman,

looking down, and drawing her thin shawl more closely over her open

bosom.

'Well,' said Larkin, 'ye karn't git nothin' out o' har, but it's

so--sartin! Ev'ry 'un says so; and what ev'ry 'un says arn't more'n a

mile from the truth. Jest look o' that little 'un. Doan't ye see the

Squire's eyes and forrerd thar?' and he took the little girl roughly by

the arm, and turned her face toward mine. The lower part of her features

were like her mother's, but her eyes, hair, and forehead were Preston's!

'Yes, I see,' I said; 'but you spoke of two little girls; where is the

other?'

'Well, you see, I bought 'em both, and the Gin'ral give me a bill o'

sale on 'em; but when we come to look arter the young 'un in the

mornin', she warn't thar. The Gin'ral's 'ooman--she's a 'ooman fur me--a

hull team--she makes him stan' round, _I_ reckon. Well, she'd a likin'

for the little 'un, and she swoore she shouldn't be sold. She told me

ter my face she'd packed har off whar I couldn't git har, nohow; and she

said she'd raise the town, and hev me driv' out if I 'tempted it.'

'What did you do then?' I asked.

'Well, ye knows the Gin'ral's a honerubble man; so, when he seed his

'ooman was sot thet way, he throw'd in the yaller boy--and he's wuth a

hun'red more'n the gal, ony day. His mother took on ter kill, 'cause the

Gin'ral'd sort o' promised him ter har, and she'd been a savin' up ter

buy him. But the Gin'ral's a honerubble man, and he didn't flinch a

hair--not a hair. Thet's the sort ter deal with, I say. I stuck fur the

little gal, though--'cause, ye see, I'd takin' a likin' ter har

myself--she's the pootiest little thing ye ever seed, she is; but the

Gin'ral he said 'twarn't no use, fur his 'ooman would have har way, and

finally I guv in, and took another bill o' sale. And what d'ye think!

I'd no more'n got it inter my pocket, 'fore the Gin'ral's 'ooman pulled

out a gold watch, two or three diamond pins, a ring or two, and some

wimmin's fixin's, and says she, 'See thar, _Mister_ Larkin, them's what

I got fur the little gal. _I've_ sold har--sold har this mornin', and

guv the bill o' sale; and if the Gin'ral doan't cartify it, he woan't

git no peace, I reckon. I was bound ter see one on 'em done right by, I

was.' Well, I told har she wus ahead o' my time, and I put out raather

sudden, I did. A 'ooman's the devil; I'd ruther trade with twenty men

than one 'ooman, I swar.'

When he spoke of her child, the slave woman burst into tears. Her

emotion drowned the curiosity which had made me a patient listener to

the trader's story, and recalled me to the business in hand. With some

twinges of conscience for having kept the wretched girl so long on the

rack, I said to him, 'Well, Larkin, let's get through with this. Name

your lowest price for the lot.'

'P'raps you'd as lief throw out the boy. I'll take off three hundred fur

him.'

'Oh! doan't ye leab Ally, massa; buy Ally too, massa; oh do, good

massa!' he cried, with an expression of keen agony such as I had never

till then seen in a child. He was a 'likely' little fellow, with a

round, good-natured face, and a bright, intelligent eye; and though I

presumed Preston felt no particular interest in him, I thought of his

mother, depriving herself of sleep and rest to save up the price of her

boy, and I said: 'No, I have taken a liking to him; I'll take the whole

or none.'

'Well, then, seventeen fifty, not a dime less. Thet's only a hun'red

profit.'

'Will a hundred profit satisfy you?'

'Yes, bein' as you's a friend of the ole man, and I hain't had 'em only

four days.'

I quietly sat down on the bench, beside the little girl, and taking her

hand in mine, and playing with her small fingers in a careless way,

said: 'Well, I will give you a hundred profit; but, Larkin,' and I

looked him directly in the eye and smiled, 'you cannot intend to come

the Yankee over me! I am one of them myself, you know, and understand

such things. These people cost you twelve hundred--not a mill more.'

'The h----ll they did! P'raps ye mean ter say I lie?' he replied, in an

excited tone, his face reddening with anger.

'No, I don't. I merely state a fact, and you know it. So keep cool.'

'It's a d----d lie, sir. I doan't keer who says it,' he exclaimed, now

really excited.

'Come, come, my fine fellow,' I said, rising and facing him; 'skip the

hard words, and don't get up too much steam--it might hurt you, _or your

friends_.'

'What d'ye mean? Speak out, Mr. Kirke. If ye doan't want ter buy 'em,

say so, and hev done with it.' This was said in a more moderate tone. He

had evidently taken my meaning, and feared he had gone too far.

'I mean simply this. This woman and the children cost you twelve hundred

dollars four days ago. Preston wants them--_must_ have them--and he will

give thirteen hundred for them, and pay you in a year, with interest;

that's all.'

'Well, come now, Mr. Kirke, thet's liberal, arn't it! S'pose I doan't

take it, what then?'

'Then Roye, Struthers & Co. will stop your supplies, _or I'll stop

their's_--that's 'SARTIN',' and I laughed good-humoredly as I said it.

'Well, yer one on 'em, Mr. Kirke, thet's a fact;' and then he added,

seriously, 'but ye karn't mean to saddle my doin's onter them.'

'Yes, I will; and tell them they have you to thank for it.'

'What,' and he struck his forehead with his hand; 'what a dangnation

fool I wus ter tell ye 'bout them!'

'Of course, you were; and a greater one to say you paid sixteen fifty

for the property. I'd have given fifteen hundred for them if you had

told the truth. But come, what do you say; are they Preston's or not?'

'No, I karn't do it; karn't take Preston's note--'tain't wuth a hill o'

beans. Give me the money, and it's a trade.'

'Preston is cramped, and cannot pay the money just now. I'll give you

my note, if you prefer it.'

'Payable in York, interest and exchange?'

'Yes.'

'Well, it's done. And now, d----n the nigs. I'll never buy ary 'nother

good-lookin' 'un as long's I live.'

'I hope you won't,' I replied, laughing.

He then produced a blank note and a bill of sale, and drawing from his

pocket a pen and a small ink bottle, said to me: 'Thar, Mr. Kirke, ye

fill up the note, and I'll make out the bill o' sale. I'm handy at such

doin's.'

'Give me the key of these bracelets first. Make out the bill to

Preston--Robert Preston, of Jones County.'

He handed me the key, and I unlocked the shackles. 'Now, Phyllis,' I

said, 'it is over. Go and tell Master Robert.'

She rose, threw her arms wildly above her head, and staggering weakly

forward, without saying a word, left the cabin. Yelping and leaping with

joy, the yellow boy followed her; but the little girl came to me, and

looking up timidly in my face, said: 'O massa! Rosey so glad 'ou got

mammy--Rosey _so_ glad. Rosey lub 'ou, massa--Rosey lub 'ou a heap.' I

thought of the little girl I had left at home, and with a sudden impulse

lifted the child from the floor and kissed her. She put her little arms

about my neck, laid her soft cheek against mine, and burst into tears.

She was not accustomed to much kindness.

I filled out the note and gave it to the trader; and, with the bill of

sale in my hand, was about to go in search of Preston, when he and

Phyllis entered the cabin. I handed him the document, and glancing it

over, he placed it in his pocket book.

'Now, Larkin,' I said, 'this is a wretched business; give it up; there's

too much of the man in you for this sort of thing.'

'Well, p'raps yer right, Mr. Kirke; but I'm in it, and I karn't git out;

but it seems ter me it tain't no wuss dealin' in 'em then ownin' 'em.'

'I don't know. Is it not a little worse on the man himself? Does it not

sort of harden you--blunt your better feelings, to be always buying and

selling people that do not want to be bought and sold?'

'Well, p'raps it do; it's a cussed business ony how. But thar's my hand,

Mr. Kirke. Yer a gentleman, I swar, if ye _hev_ come it over me, ha! ha!

How slick you done it! I likes ye the better fur it; and if Jake Larkin

kin ever do ye a good turn, he'll do it. I allers takes ter a man thet's

smarter nor I am, I do,' and he gave my hand another of his powerful

shakes.

'I thank you, Larkin; and if I can ever serve you, it will give me great

pleasure to do so.'

'I doan't doubt it, Mr. Kirke, I doan't; and I'll call on ye, sure, if

ye ever kin do me ony good. Good-by; ye want ter be with the Squire;

good-by;' and giving my hand another shake, he left the cabin.

Which was the worse--that coarse, hardened man, or the institution which

had made him what he was?

It was many years before the trader and I met again. When we did, he

kept his word!

THE UNION.

II.

Having stated the course of England on the slavery question and the

rebellion, gladly would I rest here; but, as a Northern man, by

parentage, birth, and education, always devoted to the Union, twice

elected by Mississippi to the Senate of the United States, as the ardent

opponent of nullification and secession, and, _upon that very question_,

having announced in my first address, of January, 1833, the right and

duty of the Government, by "_coercion_," if necessary, to suppress

rebellion or secession by any State, truth and justice compel me to say,

that we of the North, next to England, are responsible for the

introduction of slavery into the South. Upon a much smaller scale than

England, but, under her flag, which was then ours, and the force of

colonial tradition, we followed the wretched example of England, and

Northern vessels, sailing from Northern ports, and owned by Northern

merchants, brought back to our shores from Africa their living cargoes.

Small numbers only of these slaves were brought from their tropical

African homes to the colder North, where their labor was unprofitable,

but, were taken to the South, and against their earnest protest, forced

upon them. It was not the South that engaged in the African slave trade.

It was not the South that brought slavery into America. No, it was

forced upon the South, against their protest, mainly by England, but

partly, also, by the North. Believing, as I do, that this war was

produced by slavery, we should still remember by whom the slaves were

imported here.

Nor should we forget how zealously, from first to last, Virginia,

Maryland, and Delaware, in framing the Federal Constitution, sustained

by Washington, Franklin, and Hamilton, and by New York, Pennsylvania,

and New Jersey, opposed the continuance, even for a day, of the African

slave trade, and how they were overborne by the unfortunate coalition of

the Eastern States with Georgia and the Carolinas, legalizing the

execrable traffic for twenty years, and how fearfully the predictions of

those great prophet statesmen, George Mason, of Virginia, and Luther

Martin, of Maryland, have been fulfilled, that this fatal measure, by

the force of its moral influence in favor of slavery, and by the rapid

importation of negroes here, would menace the peace and safety of the

Union.

Indeed, when the Constitution was framed, Virginia, Maryland, and

Delaware, not only opposed the African slave trade, but interdicted the

interstate slave trade. All these States then regarded slavery as a

great evil, destined soon to disappear, and the failure to adopt gradual

emancipation arose, mainly, from the fact, that the majority could not

agree as to the practical details of the measure. In Virginia,

Washington, Jefferson, George Mason, Madison and Monroe, Marshall and

St. George Tucker, were all gradual emancipationists. Even as late as

1830, the measure failed, only by a single vote in the Virginia State

Convention; and this year, Western Virginia has voted for manumission

with great unanimity. Let us then, as a nation, do our full duty on this

question to all loyal citizens; and the border States, acting by compact

with the Federal Government, will surely adopt the system of gradual

emancipation and colonization. The failure of any State to adopt the

measure immediately, although greatly to be deplored, is no indication

as to what their course will be when the rebellion shall have been

suppressed, and Congress acted definitely on the subject.

As the North, next to England, was mainly responsible for forcing

slavery upon the South, honor demands that the whole nation, as an act

of justice, and as a measure that would greatly exalt the character of

the country, should bear any loss that may arise to loyal citizens from

a change of system in any State. Indeed, under all the circumstances,

the nation cannot afford to leave all the sacrifice, and all the glory

of such an achievement, to the South only. It will be a grand historical

fact in the progress of humanity, and must adorn the annals of the

nation.

I speak now of the slaves of the loyal. What course should be pursued

with the slaves of rebels, is a very different question. As regards the

seceded States, it is clear, as our army advances, that the slaves of

the disloyal, _seized_ or coming _voluntarily_ within our lines, with or

without previous proclamation, necessarily will be, and ought to be

emancipated, under that clause of the Constitution authorizing Congress

to 'make rules concerning captures on _land_ and water,' and the law

carrying that provision into effect. There never has been a war, foreign

or intestine, in which slaves coming within the lines of an army have

not been emancipated. In the case of Rose vs. Himly, 2d Curtis, 87, the

Supreme Court of the United States declared that, in case of rebellion,

'_belligerent_ rights may be superadded to those of _sovereignty_,' and

that we may punish the rebels as _traitors_, or, treating them, by land

and sea, as we now do, as _belligerents_, under the war power, which is

also a constitutional power, we may enforce the same military

contributions, or make the same captures, as in case of a foreign war.

Indeed, if this were otherwise, our Constitution, as claimed by

secessionists and anti-coercionists, at home and abroad, would have been

a miserable failure, and would have invited rebellion, by depriving us

of the power to suppress it by all war measures recognized by the law of

nations. Such is the law, ancient and modern, and the uniform practice

of nations in suppressing rebellion. Such acts are not bills of

attainder, operating as judgments without war or capture, but the

exercise by Congress of the power expressly granted by the Constitution,

applicable, as the Supreme Court has declared, in case of rebellion, to

'make rules concerning captures on land and water.' But this provision

implies capture or conquest, and the act of Congress proposes no mere

paper edicts, which, without capture or conquest, can only operate as

offers of conditional amnesty to rebels, or freedom to slaves. This

great constitutional war power, as our army advances, should be clearly

_proclaimed_ and _exercised_, and the slaves of the disloyal, used, as

they are, to supply the means of support to the rebel armies, should be

emancipated, as required by Congress, and employed, at reasonable wages,

in some useful labor in aid of the Union cause. In this way, the rebel

whites and masters must soon, to a vast extent, leave the army, to raise

the provisions now supplied by their slaves, and the war thus much more

speedily be brought to a successful conclusion. By paper edicts I mean

those designed to operate as judgments or sentences, without capture or

conquest, and not those announced under the acts of Congress, in

advance, but only to become operative and consummated in the contingency

of capture or conquest. The unconditional friends of the Union should

not only adhere to the Constitution as the bulwark of our cause, but

will find in that great instrument the most ample power to suppress the

rebellion. It is the rebels who are striving to overthrow the

Constitution, and we who are resolved to maintain and enforce it, in war

and in peace, as 'the _supreme_ law of the land,' in _every State_, from

the lakes to the gulf, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

It is vain to deny the prejudice in the North against the negro race,

constantly increasing as the numbers multiply, accompanied by the stern

refusal of social or political equality with the negro, and the serious

apprehension among their working classes of the degradation of labor by

negro association, and the reduction of wages to a few cents a day by

negro competition--all demonstrating, as a question of interest, as well

as of humanity, that it is best for them, as for us, that the

separation, though necessarily gradual and voluntary, must be complete

and eternal.

Wherever the vote of the people of any State of the North has been taken

on this question, it has been uniformly for the exclusion of the free

negro race. In the midst of the excitement of the slavery question in

Kansas, when the republicans acted alone upon the question of the

adoption of their celebrated Topeka constitution, they submitted the

free negro question to a distinct vote of the people, which was almost

unanimous for their exclusion. The recent similar overwhelming vote, to

the same effect, of the people of Illinois, is another clear test of the

present sentiment of the nation. That sentiment is this: that the negro,

although to be regarded as a man, and treated with humanity, belongs, as

they believe, to an inferior race, communion or association with whom is

not desired by the whites. Those who regard the slavery question as the

only, or the principal difficulty, are greatly mistaken. The _negro_

question is far deeper. It is not slavery, as a mere political

institution, that is sustained in the South, but the greater question of

the intermingling and equality of races. In this aspect, it is far more

a question of race than of slavery. If, as among the Greeks and Romans,

the white race were enslaved here, the institution would instantly

disappear. Among the many millions of the population of the South, less

than a tenth are slaveholders. Why, then, is it, that the

non-slaveholding masses there support the institution? It is the

instinct, the sentiment, the prejudice, if you please, of race, almost

universal and unalterable. It is the fear that if the slaves of the

South were emancipated, the non-slaveholding whites would be sunk down

to their level. But let the non-slaveholders of the South know that

colonization abroad would certainly accompany gradual emancipation, and

they would support the measure. They do not wish the Africans among

them; but if that must be the case, then they desire them to remain as

slaves, and not to be raised to their own condition as freemen, to

degrade labor and reduce its wages, as they believe. Abolition alone,

touches then merely the surface of this question. It lies far deeper, in

the antagonism of race, and the laws of nature. In this respect there is

a union of sentiment between the masses, North and South, both opposing

the introduction of free blacks.

Should the slaves be gradually manumitted and colonized abroad with

their consent, and the North be thereafter reproached with aiding to

force slavery upon the South, we could then truly say, that we had

finally freely united with the South in expending our treasure to remove

the evil. The offence of our forefathers would then be gloriously

redeemed by the justice and generosity of their children, and made

instrumental in carrying commerce, civilization, and Christianity to the

benighted regions of Africa. Nor should the colonization be confined to

Africa, but extended to 'Mexico, Central and Southern America' (as

proposed in my Texas letter of the 8th January, 1844), and to the West

Indies, or such other homes as might be preferred by the negro race.

From my youth upward, at all times and under all circumstances, whether

residing North or South, whether in public or in private life, I have

ever supported gradual emancipation, accompanied by colonization, as the

only remedy for the evil of slavery. In my Texas letter, just referred

to, published at its date over my signature, being then a senator from

Mississippi, I expressed the following opinions on this great question:

'Again the question is asked, is slavery never to disappear from the

Union? This is a startling and momentous question, but the answer is

easy and the proof is clear--_it will certainly disappear if Texas is

reannexed to the Union_, not by abolition, but in spite of all its

frenzy, slowly and gradually, by diffusion, as it has thus nearly

receded from several of the more Northern of the slaveholding States,

and as it will certainly continue more rapidly to recede by the

reannexation of Texas, into _Mexico and Central and Southern America_.

Providence * * * thus will open Texas as a safety-valve, into and

through which slavery will slowly and gradually recede, and finally

disappear into the boundless regions of Mexico, and Central and Southern

America. Beyond the Del Norte _slavery will not pass_; not only because

it is forbidden by law, but because the colored races there preponderate

in the ratio of ten to one over the whites, and holding, as they do, the

government and most of the offices in their own possession, they will

never permit the enslavement of any portion of the colored race, which

makes and executes the laws of the country. In Bradford's Atlas the

facts are given as follows:

'Mexico, area 1,690,000 square miles; population eight millions, one

sixth white, and all the rest Indians, Africans, Mulattoes, Zambos, and

other colored races. Central America, area 186,000 square miles;

population nearly two millions, one sixth white, and the rest Negroes,

Zambos, and other colored races. South America, area 6,500,000 square

miles; population fourteen millions, one million white, four millions

Indians, and the remainder, being nine millions, blacks and other

colored races. The outlet for our negro race through this vast region

can never be opened but by the reannexation of Texas; but, in that

event, there, in that extensive country, bordering on our negro

population, and four times greater in area than the whole Union, with a

sparse population of but three to the square mile, where nine tenths of

the people are of the colored races--there, upon that fertile soil, and

in that delicious climate, so admirably adapted to the negro race, as

all experience has now clearly shown, the free black would find a home.

There, also, as the _slaves_, in the lapse of time, from the density of

population and other causes, are _emancipated_, they will disappear,

from time to time, west of the Del Norte, and beyond the limits of the

Union, and among a race of their own color will be diffused through this

vast region, where they will not be a _degraded caste_, and where, as to

climate and social and moral condition, and all the hopes and comforts

of life, they can occupy, _amid equals_, a position they can never

attain in any part of this Union.'

This, it is true, was a slow process, but it was peaceful, progressive,

and certain, especially when Texas should have been checkered by

railroads, and her system connected with that of the South and of

Mexico. I desired then, however, to accelerate this action, by making it

a part of the _compact_ of Texas with the Federal Government, that the

proceeds of the sales of her public lands, exceeding two hundred

millions of acres, should be devoted in aid of the colonization

described in this extract. The principle, however, was adopted of State

action by irrevocable _compact_ with the Federal Government, by which,

provision therein was made for abolishing slavery in all such States

north of a certain parallel of latitude (embracing a territory larger

than New England), as might be thereafter admitted by subdivision of the

State of Texas. The power of action on this subject, by _compact_ of a

State with the General Government, was then clearly established, in

perfect accordance with repeated previous acts of Congress, then cited

by me. The doctrine rests upon the elemental principle of the combined

authority of the nation, and a State, acting by compact within its

limits.

It being clearly our interest and duty to adopt this system of gradual

emancipation in the loyal States, with colonization abroad, aided by

Congress, the constitutional power being unquestionable, and the

expense comparatively small (less than a few months' cost of the war,)

it is a signal mark of that special Providence, which has so often

shielded our beloved country from imminent peril, that the President of

the United States should have recommended, and Congress should have

adopted, by so large a majority, this _very system_, by which slavery

might soon disappear, at least from the border States. In making an

appropriation for gradual emancipation and colonization, so much of the

overture as embraced colonization might and should be extended to the

North, as well as the South, so as, with their consent, to colonize

beyond our limits the free blacks of _every State_.

In a former letter, published over my signature, of the 30th September,

1856, called 'AN APPEAL FOR THE UNION,' I said: '_I have never

believed in a peaceable dissolution of the Union_. * * _No; it will be

war_, CIVIL WAR, _of all others the most sanguinary and

ferocious._ * * _It will be marked_ * * _by frowning fortresses, by

opposing batteries, by gleaming sabres, by bristling bayonets, by the

tramp of contending armies, by towns and cities sacked and pillaged, by

dwellings given to the flames, and fields laid waste and desolate. It

will be a second fall of mankind; and while we shall be performing here

the bloody drama of a nations suicide, from_ THE THRONES OF

EUROPE _will arise the exulting shouts of despots, and upon their

gloomy banners shall be inscribed, as, they believe, never to be

effaced, their motto_, MAN IS INCAPABLE OF SELF-GOVERNMENT.'

Alluding to the subject of the present discussion, I then also said: '_I

see, too, what, in this probable crisis of my country's destiny, it is

my duty again to repeat from my Texas letter_: * * THE AFRICAN

RACE, _gradually disappearing from our borders, passing, in part,

out of our limits to Mexico, and Central and Southern America, and in

part returning to the shores of their ancestors, there, it is hoped, to

carry Christianity, civilization, and freedom throughout the benighted

regions of the sons of Ham_.' My views, then, of 1844, were thus

distinctly reiterated in 1856, in favor of the gradual extinction of

slavery, accompanied by colonization.

The President of the United States, in view of the limited appropriation

by Congress, and the economy of short voyages, has recommended one of

the great interoceanic routes through the American isthmus for a new

negro colony. It is a great object to secure the control of this isthmus

by a friendly race, born on our soil, and the selection corresponds with

the views expressed in my Texas letter of 1844. As, however, the negroes

can only be colonized by their own consent, we should therefore, and as

an act of humanity and justice, open all suitable homes abroad for their

free choice. After much reflection, I think it is their interest and

ours (when the nation shall make large and adequate appropriations),

mainly to seek Liberia as a permanent home, establishing there, among

their own race, and in the land of their ancestors, a great republic.

Liberia has already largely contributed to the decline of the African

slave trade. She has reclaimed from barbarism, for civilization,

Christianity, liberty, and the English language, 700 miles of the coast,

running far into the interior, reaching a high, healthy, well watered,

rich, and beautiful country. She has already civilized and Christianized

300,000 native Africans, and brought them into willing obedience to her

government. As her power extends along the coast and into the interior,

she may soon extinguish the slave trade. This would relieve our

squadron, stationed by treaty on the African coast to suppress that

traffic, and leave the large sums, annually expended by Congress for

that purpose, to be applied in further aid of the cause of colonization.

Providence, for several centuries, has mysteriously connected our

destiny with that of the African race. This rebellion developes that

purpose; the civilization of that race here, and their transfer to the

land of their fathers, carrying with them our language, laws, religion,

and free institutions, redeemed from the curse of slavery. Now, indeed,

we see the approaching fulfilment of prophecy, when 'Ethiopia shall

stretch forth her hands unto God.' We have just established commercial

and diplomatic relations with Liberia, and, in separating from the race

here, let us do them ample justice. Let us purchase for Liberia (which

can be done for a small sum), the great adjacent coast and interior of

Africa, and thus eventually evangelize and civilize that whole region.

Liberia would thus expand and become the great Afric-American republic,

and the dominant nation of that immense continent. Commerce, the first

great missionary--like St. John in the wilderness, preceding the advent

of the Redeemer--would penetrate that dark region, and the execrable

trade in human beings, give way to the interchange of products and

manufactures.

The _Westminster Review_ has said, 'The Americans are planting free

negroes on the coast of Africa; a greater event, probably, in its

consequences, than any that has occurred since Columbus set sail for the

New World.' Let us now adopt gradual emancipation, and the colonization

of Africa, and the voyage of the great discoverer will have given

civilization and Christianity to two continents, and eventually, we

trust, the blessings of liberty to all mankind.

The divers products and fabrics of Africa and of our Union invite

reciprocal commerce. We want her gold, coffee, ivory, dyestuffs, and

numerous raw materials of manufactures; and she wishes our fabrics,

engines, agricultural implements, breadstuffs, and provisions. The trade

will give immense and profitable employment to our shipping. From the

Cape of Good Hope to the Mediterranean, from the Atlantic to the Red sea

and the Indian ocean, Africa is tropical or semi-tropical. She has most

of the products of the East and West Indies. She can produce cheaper and

better cotton than any other region, except our Southern States, to

which, from their fertile soil, and climate favored by the Gulf Stream,

free white labor will eventually give us, substantially, a monopoly of

that great staple. She equals any country in the production of sugar,

coffee, and cocoa. In palm oil and ivory she has almost a monopoly. Of

spices, she has the clove, nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon. Of dyes and

dyewoods, she has indigo, camwood, harwood, and the materials for the

best blue, brown, red, and yellow colors. In nuts, she has the palm, the

ground, the cocoa, and the castor. In gums, she has the copal, senegal,

mastic, India rubber, and gutta percha. In fruits, she has the orange,

lime, lemon, citron, tamarind, papaw, banana, fig, grape, date,

pineapple, guava, and plantain. In vegetables, she has the yam, cassado,

tan yan, and sweet potato. She has beeswax and honey, and most valuable

skins and furs. In woods, she has the ebony, mangrove, silver tree,

teak, unevah, lignumvitæ, rosewood, and mahogany. She has birds with the

sweetest notes and brightest plumage, and fish and animals in the

greatest variety. There are the giant elephant, rhinoceros, and

hippopotamus. There the lordly lion roams, the monarch of his native

forest, as if conscious of furnishing robes for royalty and symbolizing

the flag of a great nation. Where animals of such sagacity, courage,

power, and majesty are found, why should not man be great also? Our

ancestors, the Britons, were once savages; so were our Celtic and Saxon

forefathers, and most of them were slaves. What are their descendants

now? Let Shakespeare, Newton, Fox, Burke, Pitt, Peel, Washington,

Wellington, Franklin and Hamilton, Madison and Jefferson, the Adamses,

Webster, Clay, and Jackson answer the question. I am hopeful of complete

success; but whatever the result may be, we owe to ourselves, to our

moral and material progress, but, above all, to the down-trodden race so

long enslaved among us, to make the great experiment. If we succeed, it

will be a monument to our glory, that will endure when time shall have

crumbled the pyramids. If we fail, it will have been a noble effort in

the cause of justice and humanity. Here, with the sentiment almost

universal against the negro race, indicated by the votes and acts of all

sections, and their exclusion everywhere, North and South, practically,

from all social or political equality with the whites, they can never

have among us any of those hopes, aspirations, energy, or opportunities,

enabling them to test their capacity for great improvement. It is only

where they shall be equals among equals, that they can ever attain high

elevation. I take the facts as they are, and know that this prejudice of

race here is ineradicable. In making the vain and hopeless effort to

change it, we sacrifice to an impracticable idea our own good, and that

of the race whose welfare we seek to promote. Colonization has

heretofore been opposed by many, because they believed it hostile to

manumission; but now, when emancipation is proposed, with appropriations

to enable the manumitted to choose freely between remaining here and

homes elsewhere, why should such a system encounter any hostility?

Especially, when millions will vote for emancipation, if connected with

voluntary colonization, why continue to oppose it? What objection is

there to furnishing the means to enable the free or freed blacks to

remain or to emigrate, and why should any of their friends wish to

deprive them of such a privilege? Opposition springs also from

confounding the border with the seceded States--the slaves of the loyal

with those of the disloyal, and the conduct of the war; but the

questions are different and independent.

On this subject of what is called abroad the prejudice of color, the

North has been censured, even by many of our best friends. But it is

impossible for Europe, where the African race are not, and never have

been, either as slaves or freemen, to solve for us this most difficult

problem of the social equality of the white and black races. Where

marriage between them is unknown, such social equality cannot exist.

Europe has an idea and a theory, but no practical knowledge of the

subject. We have the facts and experience. Efforts have been made here

for a century to establish this social equality, but the failure is

complete. New England has devoted years of toil and thousands of dollars

to accomplish this object, and the Quakers, and Franklin's Pennsylvania

society, spared neither time nor money. Statesmen, philanthropists, and

Christians have labored for years in the cause, but the case grows worse

with each succeeding census. State after State, including now a large

majority, forbid their introduction. The repugnance is invincible, and

the census of 1840 (as shown by the tables annexed to my Texas letter of

January, 1844) proved that one sixth of the negroes of the North are

supported by taxation of the whites--a sum which would soon colonize

them all. The free negroes, regarded here as an inferior caste, have no

adequate motive for industry or exertion. Each year, as their numbers

augment, intensifies the prejudice, invites collision in various

pursuits, with competition for wages, and renders colonization more

necessary. We must not any longer keep the free negro here in an

exhausted receiver, or mix the races, as chemical ingredients in a

laboratory, for the edification of experimental philosophers. Such

empiricism as regards the negro race, after our repeated failures, is

cruel and unjust. We have made the trial here for nearly a century, and

the race continues to retrograde. Compare their progress and condition

in America and Liberia, and what friend of the race or of humanity can

desire to retain them among us? The voice of nature and of experience

proclaims, that America is our home and Africa is theirs; and let us, in

a spirit of true kindness and sympathy for them, obey the mandate.

There will soon be a great change among the free blacks on this subject.

When Liberia shall expand and become a considerable power--when she

shall have great marts of commerce, and her flag shall float in our

harbors--when the Messages of her President, the reports of her Cabinet,

the debates in her Congress shall be read here, her ministers and

consuls be found among us, and the ambition of her race shall thus be

aroused, we shall probably have as great a negro exodus from our country

to Africa, as there ever was from Europe to America.

When the gold so profusely scattered through Africa shall reach our

shores, as also her rich and varied products, when our reciprocal

commerce shall be counted by millions of dollars, the home of their

ancestors will present irresistible attractions to the negro race.

Ceasing to be menials and inferiors, they will then go where they will

be welcomed as citizens and rulers of a great republic. They will go

where they govern themselves, and not where they are governed or

enslaved by others. They will go where they give all the votes, and hold

all the offices, and not where their exclusion is complete. They will go

where the flag, the army, and navy, and government are theirs--and

theirs also the social position--equals among equals, peers among peers.

This they can never attain here: indeed, they will continue to

retrograde, and become a mere element of social and political agitation.

The complete success of Liberia must extinguish African slavery, here,

and throughout the world. Emigration there, is the true interest and

destiny of the negro race. Let us aid them to fulfil it. This is alike

our interest and our duty. If they have been wronged here, let us pave

their way with kindness and with gold on their return to the land of

their forefathers. Let us aid them in building up there a great nation,

which will call us blessed. Let the curse of slavery be forgotten, in

the prosperous career of a great and free Afric-American republic. Born

on our soil, let them transfer our language and institutions to Africa.

Our material progress has been marvellous; but such an act, on our part,

would indicate a moral advance, that would greatly exalt us among

nations. Every dollar thus expended, would come back to us with compound

interest, giving us also that which money cannot purchase, the

consolation of good deeds, the favor of Heaven, and the blessing of

mankind.

I have stated that so much of the overture made by Congress to the

States, as regards appropriations for colonizing abroad their free

blacks, should be extended to the free, as well as the slave States.

Among the alleged evils of emancipation apprehended at the North, is the

belief that this policy would fill the free States with manumitted

slaves. But, by extending the proposed compacts, so far as regards

colonization, to the free as well as the slave States, this result would

not only be arrested, but the number of free blacks in the North, as

well as the South, would soon be greatly diminished. The brutal assaults

lately made by mobs on unoffending blacks in some of the free States is

truly disgraceful. It is, however, a warning of the fatal consequences

of retaining the free blacks in the North, especially when, from

increasing density of population, or other causes, the struggle for

subsistence, and competition for work and wages, between whites and

negroes, should become general. In view of these facts, surely no friend

of the negro race would persuade them to remain here.

NOTE.--This was printed before the President's emancipation

proclamation, but is not hostile to it, when accompanied by capture

or conquest.

THE WOLF HUNT.

AIR--'Una niña bonita y hermosa.'

We will ride to the wolf hunt together,

Where thousands must yield up their breath,

By the night, by the light--in all weather!

Then hurrah, for the wild hunt of death!

Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle,

Over mountain and valley we come,

While the death-fife now screams like an eagle

To the roll

and the roll

and the roll

and the roll of the drum.

Fatherland!--how the wild beasts are yelling!

Blood drips from each ravenous mouth;

Blood of brothers, each torn from his dwelling

By the wild, hungry wolves of the South.

CHORUS--Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c.

Let them rave! for our rifles are ready;

Let them howl! for our sabres are keen;

And the nerve of the hunter is steady

When the track of the wére-wolf is seen.

CHORUS--Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c.

Yes, the foul wolves have been o'er the border,

But the fields were piled high with their slain,

Till we drove them, in frantic disorder,

To their dark home of hunger again.

CHORUS--Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c.

So we'll ride to the wolf hunt together,

Where the bullet stops many a breath,

By the night, by the light--in all weather,

To the wild Northern wolf hunt of death.

Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle,

Over mountain and valley we come;

While the death-fife now screams like an eagle

To the roll

and the roll

and the roll

and the roll of the drum.

THE POETRY OF NATURE.

Among the many marvellous myths of antiquity, I know of none more

directly applicable to Man and Art than that of the great struggle

between Antæus the Earth-born and Hercules.

Lifted on high by brute force, Antæus is stifled; but falling and

touching Earth, he revives. Man, borne by the irresistible force of

circumstance, may become false, frivolous, and weak: his Art may dwindle

to mere imitation, his Poetry turn to wailing and convulsions: but let

him once fall back to Nature--to the all-cherishing Earth, the Mother of

Beauty--and all his Works and Songs become as seas, rivers, green

leaves, and the music of birds.

We have too long needed the touch of fresh and holy Earth. Too long has

our love of picture and poem, and of all that the glorious impulse _to

create in beauty_ achieves, been fickle as the wind; based on discordant

fancies and distorted tradition. Symbolism in art, at present means only

an arbitrary and puerile substitution of one object or caprice for

another. The most successful poetic simile is often as thoroughly

conventional, and consequently as perishable, as possible. In short, we

are _not_ in an age when there is one poetry alike for _all_ men; when

the artist and bard are _truly_ great and honored, and their works

regarded as the Best that man can do. The few who comprehend this in all

its sad significance look from their towers tearfully forth into the

dark night, and wail, 'Great PAN is dead!'

But he is not dead, nor sleepeth. He will yet return in that awful dawn

of the day which will know no end. Already faint gleams of its glory

gild the steep hills, the high places, and the groves sacred of old to

the Starry Queen, and a reviving breath sweeps from the blue sea,

calling up in ruined fane, and on the green turf where once stood

temples in the olden time, fresh ideals of those forms of ineffable

beauty, faun and fay, born of the primeval myth. There is already a

quivering in the ancient graves, and strange lights flicker over the

mighty stones consecrated by tradition to incantations, not of morbid

fears, but of the strong and beautiful in nature. For in the

Utilitarianism, in the steam and machinery of 'this age without faith,'

I see the first necessary step of a return to real needs, solid facts,

and natural laws. It is the first part of the doing away with rococo

sentimentalisms, mediæval tatters, and all wretched and ragged

remainders and reminders of states of society which have nothing in

common with our present needs. And it will be a revival, not of the

ancient adoration of Nature as a mythology and a superstition, but as a

heartfelt love of all that is beautiful, and joyous, and healthy in

itself. Then the gods will indeed return and live again among us; not as

literal beings, however, but as blessings in all that is best for man.

Nor will 'Romance' be wanting--that influence which the age, without

defining, still declares is essential to poetry. In Science, in

Humanity, and in perfecting human ties and interests by the influence of

love, there exists a romance which is exquisitely fascinating, and which

lends itself to tenderer and more graceful dreams than Trouveur or

Minnesinger _of any age_ ever knew--dreams the more delightful because

they will not fade away with the mists of morning, but be fulfilled in

clear sunlight, line by line, before man.

It is not difficult to prove what I have here asserted of this tendency

toward the Real in modern literature and art. Within twenty, nay, within

ten years, men of genius have abandoned the Supernatural and the Gothic

as affording fit themes for creative efforts. That unfortunate creature

the Ghost--especially the Ghost in Armor--as well as the Historical or

Sensational personages who live only in the superlative--are at present

in general demand only by that harmless class who read 'for

entertainment,' and even they are beginning to ungratefully mock their

old friends. It is not difficult to foresee that the Romance so dear to

the last generation will soon become the exclusive heritage of the

vulgar. Meanwhile, genial sketches of fresh, unaffected Nature, draughts

from real life, are beginning to be loved with keen zest. What novels

are so successful as those in which the writer has truthfully mirrored

the heart or the home? What pictures are so loved as those which set

before us the Real, or, rather, the Ideal in its true meaning--that of

the perfected essence of the Real?

When this tendency shall have fairly placed man on the right road--when

we shall have learned to follow and set forth Nature as she is, in

spirit and in truth, the great cherishing mother, ever young, ever

joyous, of all beauty and all pleasure, then we may anticipate the last

and greatest era of human culture. Then we may hope for a more than

Greek art--an art freed from every strain of oppression and injustice.

To effect this we must, however, do what the earliest founders of poetry

find mythology did: search Nature closely, bear constantly in mind her

one great principle of potent Being, continually displaying itself in

all things as life and death, mutually creating each other, and acting

in all organic life by the mystery of Love, Then, while establishing

those affinities and correspondences between natural objects which

constitute Poetry, let it be ever present to the mind that each is, so

to speak, always polarized with its positive end of activity, creation

or birth, and its negative of cessation, decay and death. It is by the

constant _realization_ of this solemn and beautiful truth in all things

that Nature eventually appears so strengthening and cheerful. The flower

and the fruit, the delight of anticipation and the luxury of

realization, are the delightful culmination of every natural existence;

and it is to perfect these that all action tends. Decay, disease, pain,

and death, are only kindly agencies acting more effectually and rapidly,

to sweep away that which is fading, and hasten it into new forms of

beauty and pleasure.

'Nature within her placid breast receives

All her creation; and the body pays

Itself the due of nature, and its end

Is self-consummated.'[A]

[Footnote A: LUCAN, _Pharsalia_.]

Birth is thus an essential part of death, and death of birth--both

forming, by their inseparable action, the highest and first intelligible

stage of the inscrutable mystery of the active power of Nature. 'This,'

the reader may say, 'is, however, only the old theme, worn threadbare by

poet and moralist.' Let him look more earnestly into it--let him

_master_ it, and he will find it the germ of a deeper, a bolder, and a

more genial Art than the world has known for ages. It is no slander on

the intellect or sensibility of this day to say that its admiration for

Nature is really at a low ebb, and that, with thousands even of the

educated, nothing gives so little solid satisfaction as lovely

scenery or other inartificially beautiful phenomena. The reason

is that Poetry--the hymn which _should_ elevate the soul in

Nature-worship--instead of reflecting in every simile, every image,

directly or indirectly, the deep mystery of life which intuitively

associates with itself that of love and all loveliness, is satisfied

with mere _comparisons_ based on casual and petty resemblance. The

reader or critic of modern times, when the poet speaks of 'rosy-fingered

dawn,' or of 'cheeks like damask roses,' is quite satisfied with the

accuracy of the simile as to delicate color, and with the refined, vague

association of perfume and of individual memories attached to the

flower. But if we could realize by even the dimmest hint that the mind

of the poet was penetrated and filled by the knowledge that the rose was

a flower-favorite of man in all lands in primeval ages, and, as Geology

asserts, literally coeval with him; that its points of resemblance to

woman properly gave it place in the oldest mythology as the floral

type of the female godhead; that it was the earth-born reflection

of the morning star, and rose from the foam with it when the

Aphrodite-Astarte-Venus-Anadyomeno came to life; that, as the nearest

symbol of beautiful virginity expanding into womanhood and maternity, it

was appropriately allied to dawning life and light, and consequently to

the rosy Aurora and to blushing youth; and that finally, in withered

age, set around by sharp thorns, it is a striking likeness of wounding

death, yet from which new roses may spring--we should find that in a

knowledge of all these interchangable symbolisms lies a music and a

color, a perfume and a feeling, as of a perfectly satisfactory Thought.

Let it be observed that each of these rose-correspondences is directly

based on Nature, and that, to a mind familiar with the antithetic

identity of life and death, all are promptly soluble and mutually

convertible, as by mental-magic alchemy. There is a truth and

earnestness in them which, while stimulating the joyous sentiment, gives

to every allusion to the rose the value of genius, and not of accident

or the _chic_ of a 'happy idea.'

But with the rose there are a thousand beautiful objects all consecrated

by myth and legend, based on deeply-seated affinities, all reflecting

the solemn mystery of birth and death in unity, all expressing love and

pleasure, and all mutually convertible one into the other. All the

differently-named Venuses, yes, all the goddesses of ancient mythology,

are but _one_ Venus and one goddess--all gods blend in one Arch-Bel, or

'Belerus old,' of myriad names--he, the inscrutable Abyss,

self-developing into male and female--who is reflected again in every

object which springs from them. All mountains meet in 'the solemn

mystery of the guarded mount'--the lily teaches the same lessons as the

rose and the sea shell--each and all are seen in the light ark which

skims the waves, or floats high in heaven as the pearly-horned moon; and

then the dew of the morning and the foaming sea become the wine of life

and the honey of the flower, and they are found again in the

CUP. So on through all beautiful forms, whether of nature or of

the simpler creations of man--wherever we meet one, there, to the eye of

him who has studied the purely natural science of symbolism, is a full

garden of flowers of thought. Once master the primary solution of the

great problem, once learn the method of its application, and every

flower and simple attribute of life becomes invested with deep

significance and earnest, passionate beauty. But this can be no half-way

study, to be modified or qualified by prejudices. Do you seek, thirst

for Truth, O reader? Dare you grasp it without blanching, without

blushing? Then cast away _all_ the loathsome littleness which has rusted

and fouled around you, and look at Nature as she literally _is_, in her

naked beauty, conceiving and forming, quickening and warming into

infinitely varied and lovely life, and then _forming_ once again with

the strong and harsh influences of death, pain and decay. It avails

nothing to be squeamish and timid in the tremendous laboratory of Truth.

There is but little account taken of your parlor-propriety in the depths

of ocean, where wild sea-monsters engender, where the million-tonned

coral-rock rises to be crowned with palms, amid swaying tides and

currents which cast up in a night leagues of sandy peninsulas. Little

heed is taken of your prudish scruples or foul follies, where the

screaming eagle chases his mate on the road of the mad North-wind;

little care for _your_ pitiful perversions of health and truth into

scurvy jests or still scurvier blushes, wherever life takes new form as

life, ever begetting through the endless chain of being. There is no

learning a little and leaving the rest, for him who would explore the

fountain-springs of Poetry and of Nature. The true poet, like the true

man of science, cannot limit vision and thought to a handful of twigs or

a cluster of leaves. In the minutest detail he recalls the roots, trunk,

and branches--the smallest part is to him a reflection of the whole, and

formed by the same laws.

The great minds of the early mythologic and hitherto Unknown Age had

this advantage in shaping that stupendous _Lehre_ or lore which embraced

under the same laws, mythology, language, science, poetry, and art--they

modified nothing and avoided nothing for fear of shocking conventional

and artificial feelings. Nature was to them what she was to

herself--_literal_. The great law of reproduction, around whose primary

stage gathers all that is attractive or beautiful in organic life; the

'moment' _toward_ which everything blossoms, and _from_ which everything

fades, was not by them ignored as non-existent, or treated in paltry

equivoque, as though it were a secondary consequence and a vile

corruption, instead of a healthy cause. Their science was, it is true,

only founded on observation (and therefore easily warped to error by

_apparent_ analogies) instead of induction, while their æsthetics had

the same illusive basis; and yet, by fearlessly following the great

_manifest_ laws of organic life, they were enabled to lay the

foundations of all which in later ages came to perfection in the Hindu

Mahabarata, and Sacrintala--in Greek statues, and, it may be, in Greek

humanity--in Norse Eddas, and Druidic mysteries. All of these, and, with

them, all that Phoenician, Etruscan, and Egyptian gave to beauty, owe

their origin to the fearless incarnation in early times of the manifest

laws of Nature in myth, song, and legend. He who would feel Nature as

they felt it--a real, quickening presence, a thrilling, wildly beautiful

life, inspiring the Moerad to madness by the intensity of rushing

mountain torrent and passionately rustling leaves, a spirit breathing a

god into every gray old rock and an exquisite _love_ into every

flower--should take up the clue which these old myths afford, and follow

it to the end. Then the Hidden in forgotten lore will be revealed to

him, the Orgie and Mystery will yield to him all, and more than all,

they gave to Pythagoras of old. He will hold the key to every faith--nay

more, he will form and feel new faiths for himself in studying mountains

and seas. To him the cliff, high-rising above the foaming tide, the

serpent gliding through the summer grass, the cool dark woodland path

winding into arching leafy shadows, the brook and the narrow rocky pass,

the red sunset and the crimson flower, gnarled roots and caverns, lakes,

promontories, and headlands, will all have a strange meaning--not vague

and mystical, but literal and expressive--a mutual and self-reflecting

meaning, embodying all of the Beautiful that man loves best in life, and

consecrated by the exquisite fables of a joyous mythology.

I have long thought that a work devoted to the natural poetry and

antique mystery of such objects as occur most prominently in Nature

would be acceptable to all lovers of the Beautiful. It would be worth

the while, I should think, to all such, to know that every object, by

land or sea, was once the subject of a myth, that this myth had a

meaning founded in the deepest laws of life, and that all were curiously

connected and mutually reflected in one vast system. It would be worth

while to know, not only that dove and goblet, flower and ring were each

the 'motive' of a graceful fable, but also that this fable was something

more than merely fanciful or graceful--that it had a deep meaning, and

that each and all were essential parts of one vast whole. And it would

be pleasant, I presume, to see these myths and meanings somewhat

illustrated by poem or proverb, or other literary ornament. What is here

offered is, indeed, little more than a beginning--for the actual

completion of such a work would involve the learning and labor, not of a

man, but of an age. I trust, however, that these chapters may induce

some curiosity and research into the marvels and mysteries of antique

symbolism, and perhaps invest with a new interest many objects hitherto

valued more for their external attractions than for their associations.

The reading world has for many years received with favor works

purporting to teach with poetic illustration the Language of Flowers.

But we learn from ancient lore that there is a secret language and a

symbolism, not only of flowers, but of _all_ natural objects. These

objects, on one side, or from one point of view, all stand for each

other, and are, in fact, synonymes--the whole representing singly the

Venus-mystery of love and generation, or _life_. That is to say, this is

what they do _positively_--for negatively, at the same time, and under

the same forms, they also typify death, repulsion, darkness--even as the

same word in Hebrew often means unity or harmony when read backward, and

the reverse when taken forward. Why they represent _opposites_ (the

great opposites of existence, life and death, lust and loathing,

darkness and light) is evident enough to any one who will reflect that

each was intended to represent in itself all Nature, and that in Nature

the great mystery of mysteries is the springing of death from life and

of life from death by means of the agency of sexual action through

vitality and light.

I would beg the reader to constantly bear in mind this fact when

studying the symbolism and mythology of Nature--that among the ancients

every object, beginning with the serpent, typified _all that is_, or all

Nature, and consequently the opposites of Death and Life, united in one,

as also the male and female principle, darkness and light, sleep and

waking, and, in fact, _all_ antagonisms. Even when, as in the case of

the goat, the wild boar, or the Typhon serpent of the waters,

destruction is more peculiarly implied, the fact that destruction is

simply a preparation for fresh life was never forgotten. The destroying,

undulating, wavy serpent of the waters was _also_ the type of life, and

wound around the staff of Escalapius as a healing emblem, recalling the

brazen serpent of Moses. In like manner the Tree of Life or of Knowledge

was the tree also of Death, or of Good and of Evil, _arbor cogniti boni

et mali_, and, according to the Rabbis, of sexual generation, from

eating of which the first parents became self-conscious. Beans, which

were symbols of impurity and peculiarly identified with evil

(MENKE, _De Leguminibus Veterum_, Gottingen, 1814), were also

typical of supporting life and of reviving spring and light. To see all

reflected in each, and each in all, is, in fact, the key to all the

mysteries of symbolism and the clue to the whole poetry of Nature.

I propose in the following chapters to discuss the poetry and mystery of

flowers, herbs, and other objects, and give not only their ancient

signification, but also their more modern meaning, as set forth in song

and in tradition.

THE ROSE.

'I felix Rosa, mollibusque sertis

Nostri cinge comas Apollinaris.

Quas tu nectere candidas, sed olim,

Sic te semper amet Venus, memento!'

MARTIAL, Epig. 88, lib. 7.

Among the most exquisite outbreathings of feeling in Nature we have the

Rose. Many flowers are in certain senses more beautiful, but as, among

women, she who charms is not always the most highly gifted with

conventional attractions, so it is with the Queen of the Garden, whose

proud simplicity is delicately blended with a familiar, friendly grace,

which wins by the tenderest spell of association.

Of all flowers, of all ages, in every land, the Rose has ever been most

intimately connected with humanity--a sentiment so earnestly expressed

and so lovingly repeated in the poetry, art, and myths of the olden

time, that it would seem as if tradition had once recorded what science

has only recently discovered, that this plant was coeval with Man.

Inferior, indeed, to the sacred Lotus as a religious symbol, the Rose

has always been superior to her sister of the silent waters as

expressing the most delicate mysteries of Beauty and of Love. The Lotus,

the only rival of the Rose in the early Nature-worship,[A] furnished

indeed in its name alone a solemn formula of faith which has been more

frequently repeated than any other on earth. It was the flower of

mystery, the primeval emblem of Pantheism in beauty, the blossom of the

Morning Land. But the Rose belongs to the revellers and lovers in

Persia, to the worship and banquets of the joyous Greeks, to those who

meet in gardens by moonlight beside fountains, the children of Aphrodite

the Foam-born.

[Footnote A: The Lotus was to the Egyptian and Hindu not only an image

of physical life, but of life in all its strength and splendor, the type

of the generating and forming force of Nature in itself, expressing the

idea of 'water, health, life.' The Hindu imagined in its form the whole

earth, swimming like the lotus on water; the pistils represent Mount

Meru (the world's central point and the Indian Olympus), the stamens are

the peaks of the surrounding mountains, the four central leaves of its

crown are the four great divisions of the earth, according to the four

points of the compass, while the other leaves represented the circles of

the earth surrounding India. On the lotus is throned Brahma the creator,

and Lakshmi, the goddess of all blessings.

_Die Symbolik und Mythologie der Natur_, VON J. B. FRIEDERICH,

Würzburg, 1859.]

From the earliest age the World of Thought has been disputed by two

Spirits, and none are mightier than they. One, fearful in mysterious

beauty, the Queen of all that is occult and inscrutable, rises in cloudy

state from the antique Orient--from the Egypt of the Only Isis, and from

the Avatar land of Brahma--solemnly breathing the love of the All in

One. Infinitely lovely is the dark-browed Queen, and she bears in her

hand the lotus. Against her, in laughing sunlight, amid green leaves and

birdsong, waving merry warning, stands a brighter form--the incarnation

of purely earthly beauty--for she is all of earth and life; the Spirit

of the Actual and Material; and she is crowned with roses.

These are the Thought-Queens of Greece and India, of France and of

Germany. But the Christianity of the middle ages declared that the

flower was neither a Rose nor Lotus, and placed in the hand of its Queen

of Heaven the Lily of Martyrdom!

Dear reader, sit among green leaves until the birds no longer fear you;

or else peer from some quiet corner into your June garden, so that you

may watch its blossoms unobserved--as the little damsel in the Danish

tale did the dancing lilies. When the fever of life and self grows calm,

a feeling will steal over you, as of wonder, that the flowers seem to be

breathing and beautying _for themselves_, and not for man. A pure, holy

life, quite apart from all ultimate destinies of bouquets and wreaths

and human uses, seems to prevail among them. Each has its expression,

its ineffably tender idea, not more clearly formulized, it is true, than

those which music conveys, yet quite as delicious. One might say that

they seem to talk together; but they do not think as we think or dream

as we dream--not even symbolically. It will be long ere you appreciate

more than their fresh joy of existence. But, little by little one herb

and flower after the other becomes individualized--they are artists

living themselves out into hues and lines and parts of a tableau; the

vine draws itself in an arabesque which is perfect _because_

self-forming; and the whole harmonize with the sway of sunlight and

shadow, with rustling breeze and hurrying ant on the footpath, and

chirping birds, so exquisitely that you may feel, as you never have in

studying human art or in poetry, that tones, colors, curves, organisms

_form_ altogether, or separately, the effect of each other. If among

them all there be a Rose, you will then find _why_ it was that she was

Flower Queen in Eden, and in all ages. No matter what rivals are

present, the Rose will first suggest _Woman_--Woman in her most

exquisite loveliness.

We find, indeed, in detail, that no flower furnishes so many obvious

points of comparison to a fair girl. Its delicate tints of white and red

are suggestive of her complexion, the bud is like prettily pouting lips,

while the exquisite perfume is, especially among the excitable children

of the East, the most daintily piquant of exotic stimulants. The

Nature-worship of the early ages, which saw in all things the action of

the male and female principles of generation, did not fail to discover

in the mossy rose (as it had done in the cup, the ring, the gate, the

mountain-path, and every other imaginable type of opening, passing

through, and receiving) a striking symbol of the Queen of Love, and of

her chief attribute. In accordance with the first rule of the first

religion, which was to identify the male and female godheads in the

Producer, they also discovered in the Rosebud a symbol of the male

principle, or of germinating life, from which unchanged word, as has

been thought, the name of Buddh' or Buddha was given--or taken.

As the flower dearest to Venus and the Graces--nay, in a certain sense,

the very Venus herself, dew-dripping and odorous, the Rose soon shed the

Aurora light to which it was compared, and its winning perfume, over

every antique dream of love and beauty. It rises with the sea-foam when

Aphrodite comes in pearly whiteness from the blue waters; or it is born

of the blood of the dying Adonis when he--the type of summer

beauty--dies by the tusk of the boar, the emblem of winter, of

destruction, and of death; or it springs from the exquisitely pure and

sacred drops incarnadine of the goddess herself when scratched by

thorns, in pursuit of her darling. And as among the ancients, whether

Etruscan or Egyptian, it was usual to celebrate the rites of Venus

during banquets, the rose, with which the revellers and their goblets

were crowned, became also the symbol of Dionysus--or of Bacchus. And as

silence should be especially kept as to the secret pleasures of love and

the favors of fair ladies, as well as to what is uttered when heated by

wine, the rose was also hung up at all orgies to intimate

silence--whence the expression _sub rosa_, 'under the rose.' And

therefore Harpocrates, the god of silence and mystery (or of the secret

productive force of Nature), bears this flower--the first emblem of

'still life'--silence as to the joys of love and wine.

'Let us the Rose of Love entwine

Round the cheek-flushed god of wine:

As the rose its gaudy leaves

Round our twisted temples weaves,

Let us sip the time away,

Let us laugh as blithe as they.

'Rose, oh rose, the gem of flowers!

Rose, the care of vernal hours!

Rose, of every god the joy!

With roses Venus' darling boy

Links the Graces in a round

With him in flowery fetters bound.

'With roses, Bacchus, crown my head:

The lyre in hand thy courts I'll tread,

And, with some full-bosomed maid,

Dance, nodding with the rosy braid,

That veils me with its clustered shade.'

ANACREON.

The study of mythologic symbolism gives a thousand indications that in

prehistoric ages, among the worshippers of the Serpent and the Fire, all

the deepest feelings of men, whether artistic, religious, or sensual,

were concentrated on the real or fancied affinities of natural objects

with an earnestness of which we of the present age have no conception.

Poetry, as it exists for us, is a pretty rococo fancy; to the

worshippers and framers of myths it was a truth of tremendous

significance. To such minds a Rose freshly blowing was a symbol, not

merely of Divinity in a barren, abstract manner, but of Divinity in its

most vivid and fascinating forms. It was GOD, male and female,

manifested as love, as perfume, and as light. Believing that every

flower on earth was the reflection of an arch-typal star in heaven, they

honored the Rose by holding that as a flower it was generated by and

reflected the sun, and the morning star, and, in fact, the moon also.

So, in a poem of the Arab Meflana Dschelaledin:

'The full rose, in its glory, is like the sun,

Thou seest all its leaves, each like unto the moon.'

It was therefore one of the flowers of Light. Its color was that of the

Aurora--not in Homer alone, but in all ancient song, Dawn is

rosy-fingered, rosy-hued. This resemblance to the morning is beautifully

set forth by Ausonius:

'There Pæstan roses blushed before my view,

Bedropped with early morning's freshening dew;

'Twere doubtful if the blossoms of the rose

Had robbed the morning, or the morning those:

In dew, in tint the same, the star and flower,

For both confess the Queen of Beauty's power.

Perchance their sweets the same; but this more nigh

Exhales its breath, while that embalms the sky:

Of flower and star the goddess is the same,

And both she tinged with hues of roseate flame.'

As the warmest floral type of love, of light, of revelling, and of the

glowing dawn, the Rose became naturally the symbol of Youth. Here again,

some decided resemblance was, as usual, required, and it was found in

the Blush, the most characteristic, as well as the most beautiful,

indication of affinity in early life between the moral and physical

nature. Youth is the rose-time of love, the June of its summer; its

hours are those of the morning-star of life, and of its dawn; the lover

is the bud, the bride the blushing flower expanding in perfume. Every

resemblance in it refers to _incipient_ life. The Bud is GOD,

or Buddh', as the procreating deity, while the opening flower is the

conceiving Aphrodite. All is early and transitory. The tendency of roses

to quickly fade has given the poets of every land a most obvious simile

for 'fleeting youth.'