nothing but a development of English ideas) is beginning to make the
Europeans believe that we consider ourselves under some obligations
to sympathize with and sustain Anglo-Saxonism, the real truth being
that there is a far greater sympathy between the French and us than
between their neighbors and us. We are essentially democratic; they
abhor and detest the idea. The most miserable creature in England
would spurn liberty if accompanied by equality; for he thinks
there must be some poor devil, more miserable than himself, over
whom he can tyrannize. We acknowledge and are in favor of securing
to every one his just rights in the political system; whereas,
exactly the contrary holds in the Anglo-Saxon, who follows the old
parable of giving to him that hath and taking from him that hath
not even that which he hath. The universal tendency is to yield
power to those above and to keep the lower class pressed to the
earth. I, therefore, see little to justify the attempt of Mr. Bright
to transplant our institutions into England. He forgets that the
Americans--it is useless to investigate the causes why--are a race
of higher and more delicate organization, and can be entrusted
with liberty because they can appreciate it. The common Englishman
would only covet the privilege of suffrage in order that he might
sell his vote at its market value. He needs a sort of master, and
delights in having one. Universal suffrage in England, with due
submission, seems to me the craziest idea that ever entered into the
brain of a statesman. But Mr. Bright has a meagre following, for the
English people know themselves too well to indulge in such a Utopian
experiment. Not content with this, they kindly volunteer to lecture
us upon the errors of our system of society--for it is a difference
of society as well as of government--and pronounce republicanism a
failure because we prefer to confine government within the strictest
limits necessary for the objects of its institution, and perhaps
find King Log more suitable for the purpose than King Stork. Even
Mr. Macaulay has favored us with a "preachment," founded upon such
a strange confusion as to seem to belie the aphorism that history
is wisdom teaching by experience, and that its votaries should
consequently be the wisest of statesmen. England is a conglomeration
of monopolies. The land is a monopoly of a few thousands; the
government of a few hundreds. The whole number of capitalists
does not exceed a few millions. All below is a toiling, ignorant,
vicious, discontented multitude, who know not one week where they
will find bread for the next. Such is their system, and were America
like England, Mr. Macaulay would be justifiable in supposing the
cause of republicanism hopeless. But what class in America enjoys
a monopoly of the pleasures of life? Is not every avenue open to
the most unfriended capacity? Do not all receive the benefits of
education? Can not, and have not, the poorest boys occupied the
Presidential chair? Have our great statesmen, our millionaires,
been, for the most part, the children of even competency? Owing to
the equality which reigns throughout our ideas and institutions,
is it not in the power of every honest laborer to make provision
against the contingencies of old age, and do not most of them
make such provision? Whence, then, is to come this army of grim,
despairing, famished workmen, who, having nothing, hoping nothing,
without past or future, are to wage an eternal warfare against
the order of society? Is there, then, no middle ground between a
savorless communism and the despotism of capital? Are there no
checks and balances in nature? Do freedom, equality, education, an
honorable inculcation of industry effect nothing? It is provoking to
hear such solemn inconsequences from a really great man.
The disposition, too, to place a money value upon everything, the
real cause of their difficulties, is peculiar to the Anglo-Saxons,
and an anomaly in the present age of the world. In the military
profession, where, of all others, individual merit should be the
sole passport to distinction, commissions are still bought and sold.
Throughout the country money is imperatively required for every
position of eminence. The records of the House of Lords contain the
strange case of a duke who was expelled for no other crime than his
poverty. Men of the first abilities are deterred from accepting the
peerage because they have not amassed money enough to save them from
the humiliating and disgraceful position of a poor gentleman. We
Americans like money, not because it is money, or because it brings
position or respect, but because it gratifies bodily desires. It
would be thought an astonishing thing with us if the Presidential
Electors were to inspect the pockets of the candidate rather
than his head and his heart; or if, in 1848, Mr. Cass had been
recommended on account of his wealth, or General Taylor had sold out
his commission--things perfectly consonant with Anglo-Saxon ideas.
Yet the greatness of England is due in considerable part to this
very state of affairs, and any attempt to alter it may involve the
downfall of her power. The natural rulers are the aristocracy--and
the Anglo-Saxon gentleman is certainly one of the best qualified
persons in Europe to govern Anglo-Saxons--but all below bear the
impress of an inferior class, a strange combination of servility
with tyranny. That there should be any real sympathy between the
great body of the two nations is as little to be desired as expected.
Having thus spoken of the want of sympathy between us in the weaker
points of character, justice requires me to confess that there is
an equal absence of resemblance in the virtues. The Englishman
certainly does possess bulldog courage. His officers may be
ignorant of the science of war, but he, nevertheless, fights to the
last, nor is he subject either to the exhilaration of success or
the depression of defeat. He is conservative by nature and abhors
humbugs and humbuggery. The middle classes, and particularly the
country gentleman, are worthy of their position. The men of this
rank are true and the women virtuous. Reserved in intercourse and
unamiable toward their own countrymen, they seem to be courteous to
foreigners and even to each other when the social barrier is broken
through; but these do not compose the nation. In discussing national
relations it is not the merits and demerits of one class alone that
are to be considered, but the bearing of the whole.
The increase of steam and the facility of communication and the
little leaven of Anglo-Saxonism unfortunately left among us, has
of late years caused many Americans to look up to England as the
_mother country_, as the phrase goes. Though, perhaps, not one in
ten of those who use the expression so frequently has any great
amount of the much prized fluid in his veins. The manner in which
the homage is received beyond the water depends very much upon
the state of relations with France. As the one goes up, the other
goes down. The difference between the conduct of the English
toward America now, and its conduct in 1850, is astonishing. Then
France was torn internally, scarcely able to maintain domestic
tranquillity, and powerless for any offensive action. Europe
was just beginning to stagger weakly along, as if from a bed of
sickness. England and Russia, alone, of the great powers, had
stood the storm unbent. Under this state of things America was
a presumptuous youngster, to be snubbed upon every opportune
occasion. The Yankees (as they persist in calling the whole nation)
were described in Europe as lank, nasal-twanging barbarians, very
good for accumulating money and manufacturing wooden nutmegs, but
worthy only of a place in the kitchen of the civilized world. The
Brussels-carpeted parlor, Christendom, was not to be defiled with
their presence. The newspapers never wearied of ringing the changes
upon American shortcomings. Our self-government and liberty were
held up as empty bubbles on the point of bursting. The plain and
unflattering truth being that the English have a profound contempt
for us, and it is impossible to blame them for it, when we remember
the servility and utter abnegation of manhood that characterize
so many of us in the presence of a live lord. They have eagerly
embraced every opportunity of kicking and cuffing us, yet we whine
at their feet; how could they do otherwise than despise us? Since
that time, however, certain changes have taken place in the world.
The distracted French Republic has given way to a powerfully
organized empire, with a chief capable of planning, and an army
and navy capable of executing any enterprise, however gigantic.
The first warning given of this change was in 1851, on the Greek
question, when the President of the French Republic checked Lord
Palmerston, and gave England to understand that her course of
proceeding in foreign domineering must be altered or a war with
France would follow in a fortnight. We all remember the salutary
effect of that warning, and Palmerston's capital "bottle-holding"
speech. The doctrine of a balance of power upon the ocean as well
as the land has been again spoken of in high places. The ghost of
Waterloo, from being a source of unmingled pride and gratification
and boasting, has come to cause as many terrors as that of Banquo.
An unexpected consequence has been that the manner of speaking of
America has altered apace. It is "our cousins beyond the water" now,
and "Brother Jonathan." An American is appealed to and asked whether
he will allow the "mother country" to be crushed, the "Protestant
religion to be destroyed," etc. All this happened before, and if the
government of Louis Napoleon were supplanted by a weak monarchy,
the present good feeling of "our dear cousins" would disappear as
rapidly as their fears.
In truth, opposition to the advancement of the United States,
whether material or intellectual, is the normal condition of
England. We have suffered from it ever since the foundation of our
government, and will continue to do so, except when the fear of
invasion causes a temporary change in her policy; for selfishness,
an utter, unholy and inconceivable desire to sacrifice the happiness
and prosperity of every other country to her own even most trifling
advantage, is her invariable rule of action. The English quarrel
among themselves about the length of a bishop's gown, or the cut
of a guardsman's hat, or great constitutional questions, but there
is never a difference of action on this point; and any statesman
who dared raise a voice in behalf of justice and honor in foreign
relations could not be returned from a single constituency in
England. Witness poor Bright and Cobden in the Chinese war. Woe to
any nation that trusts her friendship.
* * * * *
AN EVENING AT SEVILLE.
About nine o'clock in summer, the whole of Seville issues forth to
enjoy the evening air on the Plaza Isabel, which is the favorite
promenade at that hour. So, following the current, I found myself in
a large parallelogram, surrounded by stately buildings in the modern
style, and half-filled with an innumerable throng of all classes,
some seated, some walking. Most of the men were smoking and most
of the women fanning themselves, with occasional intermixtures of
conversation; but the great occupation of every one is to look and
be looked at....
A public promenade is indispensable to every Spanish city, however
small, and every Spaniard is sure to pass there some portion of the
week. Particularly is this the case in Andalusia and Valencia. The
unbroken clear weather, continuing during a large part of the year,
converts the occasional constitutional stroll into a daily habit,
and an afternoon or evening walk is as much a matter of course as
attendance at mass. Fortunately for strangers, they have thus,
during spring and summer, an opportunity for seeing a considerable
portion of the population without the necessity of resorting to
letters of introduction, which involve the sacrifice of more time
than a passing traveler can spare. Seville is the city where this,
as all other national customs, is seen in its greatest perfection....
The night was Spanish, and who can describe the glories of a Spanish
summer night on the banks of the Guadalquivir? The mellow lustre
of the moon seemed to have overflowed the earth, and the blue
vault of heaven had given even to the stone buildings around an
appearance of liquid silver. It was as though the air itself had a
visible tangible substance, and we were floating upon the bosom of
an enchanted ocean. The lamps served but for ornament, and stood
like little points of burnished gold. Not a cloud obscured the sky.
Odoriferous breezes from the south wafted gently over, as if fearing
to embrace too roughly the fair cheeks that sought their wooing. A
quadruple row of chairs offered repose to the indolent or weary, and
from time to time some young lady would take compassion upon a score
of admirers, by remaining where all might approach within sound
of her voice; but the more interesting part of the assemblage was
generally to be found on the promenade.
The beauty of Spanish women has ever been a subject of admiration
to all who are endowed with a perception of the lovely. Yet, while
acknowledging its irresistible power, there is nothing so difficult
as to explain the fascination which it exercises; for, unlike
the rest of their sex, the daughters of Andalusia owe nothing to
those artificial processes which may be said to form a part of the
female education elsewhere. Their taste in dress is excellent, when
combined with simplicity, as is generally the case; for they have
by nature very little disposition to the variety of colors, which
appears to be the ruling passion of Parisian circles. The universal
costume in winter, and the usual one out of doors in all seasons,
is a dark colored skirt called a _basquiña_, fitting close around
the waist and extending to the feet, which are thus concealed. It is
sometimes kept in place by leaden pellets affixed to the border. The
same innate sense of delicacy, or, perhaps, an intuitive knowledge
of the weakness of men in believing no charms equal to hidden
charms, preserves them from those fearful exposures of neck and
shoulders, which so shocked the Japanese. A delicate satin slipper
encases a foot that would not crush a daisy. From the top of the
comb, if one be worn, gracefully fall the mantilla's folds across a
gently budding breast, where it is confined by the fingers of the
wearer's left-hand, or at times the veil is thrown forward over the
face.
From the hair, massed above the temples, stealthily peeps a rose, as
if hesitating to venture its humble beauties beside such loveliness.
Two curls--_guedejas, caracoles de armor_--bear it company. A fan
completes her costume. Thus armed, the maids of the Guadalquivir go
forth to conquer the world.
The use of the black veil seems traditional in Spain, since it is
mentioned by the Roman geographers as a part of the ancient costume
existing in those provinces which had not fully adopted the dress
of the conqueror; and they describe it as frequently thrown forward
over the face in the same style.... The mantilla is peculiarly
becoming to the Spanish style of features, while the French hat
presents the most odious and hideous contrast conceivable; the
former lends additional attractions; the latter destroys those
which already exist. One may be insensible to everything else, but
the mantilla is irresistible. A _basquiña_, a Cinderella slipper,
a mantilla or a veil, a rose and a fan, are all that any Andaluza
needs to bring the world to her feet.
But the fan! the magic fan! who shall describe its wonderful powers?
Who can sound the depths of its mysteries? Every movement of this
potent wand is fraught with happiness or misery. In their hands it
positively speaks, and its gentle recognitions are far more winning
than any assertions of the tongue. It is said to have a language, a
sort of alphabet of its own, but that is doubtful. Its utterances
are of the magnetic character, which need no interpretation, and
are felt rather than learnt. The art of managing it was always to
me an unfathomable science, and though I embraced every opportunity
of becoming a proficient, and actually took two formal lessons,
I failed utterly of success. It must be said, however, that my
instructor had learnt by intuition, but unfortunately was not able
to teach by the same method. I was always told there was only one
way of opening it, yet there are certainly five, for the theory is
almost as difficult as the practice. But having, by dint of hard
study, acquired, as you fondly imagine, the requisite theoretical
knowledge, you desire to see it embodied in action. Your instructor
shows how the fingers are placed. You are then told to do "so";
whirr! goes the fan, and it is all over before your eyes have
caught the first movement. A gentleman present at my discomfiture,
consoled me by saying that he would not respect a man who could
acquire the art; that in men's hands it was a practical instrument
for putting the air in motion. The ladies certainly do not so regard
it.
I had been apprehensive lest this costume, rendered so poetical by
the descriptions of travelers and the dreams of romancers, were
not the true secret of the admiration which I had formerly carried
away across the Pyrenees, and that it was a reflected, semi-poetic,
semi-romantic, at all events, unsubstantial conception. Such is
not the case. On the present occasion the prevailing color, in
accordance with the season was white, and the mantilla was replaced
by a simple lace veil, so that there is certainly some external
attraction independent of dress. I attribute it to the combination
of personal beauty, such as the world cannot surpass, with a grace
of movement, an innate, inalienable elegance of manner, which no
education can give and no words describe. An Andaluza is born, not
made. Not too tall and never dumpy (horrible word), her person is so
exquisitely proportioned that, without some measure of comparison,
you would form no opinion as to her real size. An elegant fullness
preserves her alike from the scrawny penury of the English or the
corpulency of the Italians. Her lofty brow justifies her sparkling
wit, and the delicate organization of her feelings and intellect
is in harmony with the finely chiseled features. Luxuriant masses
of dark glossy hair, parted slightly on one side, and nobly arched
eyebrows, are a fit setting to a rich southern complexion, not of
sickly yellow, but of a clear olive tinge, through which the timid
blood, with every emotion, mantles to the surface. The pride of
her beauty is the large, lustrous, almond-shaped, velvety eye,
half covered with silken lashes, as if to screen her admirers from
the danger of being consumed; but when aroused into activity,
flashing forth pride, interest, inexhaustible love, with a fire more
irresistible than that of a thousand suns. Then it is that, with an
imperious wave of the fan, she bids you plunge into a maelstrom of
vipers, and you obey.
There is a widely diffused, but very erroneous belief among us that
every Spaniard has perforce black eyes and a dark complexion. Such
is far from being true, even in Andalusia. Ladies of the better
class, who are not exposed to the sun or wind, have beautifully
clear complexions, though brunette. In Ronda, blue eyes form the
majority, and they are by no means uncommon in other provinces. But
the Spanish blonde is still a Spaniard, and her type of beauty very
different from the insipid combination which often passes under that
name in the north. There is the same smothered fire, the same deep
expression in the eye, the same richness of complexion, which, in
union with raven tresses, form an exquisite picture. Light-haired
persons, _rubias_, are rarer, and of course much admired to look at,
though every one falls in love with their dark-haired rivals. Of the
luxuriance and elegance of their hair the ladies are justly proud,
and no pains are spared to render it as beautiful as possible.
The time devoted to this object is sacred in all classes, and if,
in response to an inquiry or request, the ominous reply is heard,
"_hombre! estamos ocupadas con el pelo_," it is useless to remain.
Nothing short of another invasion of the Moors could arouse them.
During the civil war, Zumalacarregui, or Merino, for it is narrated
of both, placed death for the men and loss of their hair for the
women, upon the same footing, and found them equally efficacious
punishments.
Spanish girls are taught to walk gracefully, too, as all girls
should be, and since the narrowness of the streets prevents the
general use of carriages, and the arms of gentlemen are seldom
offered, and never accepted, they avoid falling into the tottering
shuffle, which is produced by the opposite customs. The walk of
the Seville ladies is something peculiar to Andalusia. That they
take steps is firmly believed because required by the anatomical
construction of mankind, but in their case the belief is the result
of induction, not of ocular perception. They glide over the earth as
though supported by unseen hands, and disappear from your sight ere
you can believe that they are actually moving.
The Andalusian foot is a marvel, both for size and beauty. A lady
will wear with ease the slipper of an ordinary girl of fourteen. If
any artificial means are used, the pressure must be very slight, as
the appearance is perfectly natural, notwithstanding the fact that
they seldom adopt any other means of locomotion. The development of
the English _understanding_ is a subject of perpetual wonderment on
the Guadalquivir, where they are accustomed to compare its covering
to a twelve-oared boat.
The graceful walk of the Sevillians is not more peculiar to them
than the noble carriage of the head, due, doubtless, in some degree,
to the absence of those fragile yet cumbrous ornaments which force
others to assume a stiff and constrained position. It gives them an
air of haughtiness by no means disagreeable, however, as you are
quite ready to admit their unapproachable superiority before they
assert it. Every Andaluza has two points of beauty--fine eyes and
hair. Then she may have a good complexion, and she is almost certain
to be graceful. If to these she unite wit and cultivation, who are
so daring as to deny her preeminence? Progress, perhaps mere change,
is desirable in many things in Spain, but that Heaven may preserve
her fair daughters from the hand of innovation is the prayer of
native and foreigner alike. It is scarcely possible, that the best
laid schemes of any power on earth could effect an improvement.
[Illustration: WILLIAM D. PENDER.]
WILLIAM D. PENDER.
BY W. A. MONTGOMERY.
Among the glorious number of heroic spirits who laid down their
lives for this pre-doomed undertaking [the secession of the
Confederate States] not one was more conspicuous for courage and
loyalty, and but few, if any, for skill and leadership, than the
subject of this sketch, General William Dorsey Pender. He was
born in Edgecombe county, N. C., on the 6th of February, 1834, at
the country home of his father, James Pender, Esq. His paternal
ancestry is of ancient English stock, the name being as old as
English history itself. The first of the family to come to America
was Edwin, who, in the reign of Charles II., settled near Norfolk,
Virginia. A descendant of the same name, grandfather of General
Pender, removed from Norfolk to Edgecombe, on Town Creek, where he
owned and died possessed of large landed interests and slaves. On
one of these plantations, inherited by his father, General Pender
was born. His mother was Sarah Routh, a sister of the mother of the
late Hon. R. R. Bridgers, and the daughter of William Routh, Esq.,
of Tidewater, Virginia.
General Pender lived where he was born until he was fifteen years
of age, when he entered, as a clerk, the store of his brother, Mr.
Robert D. Pender, in Tarboro. This employment was distasteful to him
from the first. The martial spirit was already strongly developed
in him, and the opportunity soon presented itself for him to begin
a military education and training. He entered the Military Academy
at West Point as a cadet on the first of July, 1850, having been
recommended as a suitable candidate by the Hon. Thomas Ruffin, who
was then the member of Congress from his district. The friendship
of Mr. R. R. Bridgers, which lasted through life, procured for him
the appointment. He was graduated in 1854, standing nineteenth in
his class. In this class were G. W. Custis Lee, Stephen D. Lee,
J. E. B. Stuart and other distinguished military men. As cadet he
was modest and unassuming in his intercourse with his fellows,
respectful to his instructors and tractable to the discipline of
the institution. Upon his graduation he was assigned to the First
Artillery as Brevet Second Lieutenant and the same year was made
Second Lieutenant of the Second Artillery. In the year 1855 he was
transferred, at his own request, to the First Regiment of Dragoons,
and in 1858 was promoted to a first lieutenancy. From the time he
entered the dragoons he saw service in the field in all its phases,
camp, frontier, and scouting; fighting in New Mexico, California,
Washington and Oregon. He was engaged in many skirmishes, and in
as many as three battles with the Indians--one of the engagements
being with the Apaches at Amalgré Mountain, on March 20, 1856;
another at the Four Lakes, September 1, 1858, and the other on the
Spokane Plains, September 3, 1858. He took a conspicuous part in
these engagements, and was mentioned with credit in the reports of
them. Lieutenant Lawrence Kip, in his _Army Life on the Pacific_,
narrates the following incident which occurred at the battle of
Spokane Plains: "Lieutenant Pender, while in the woods, returning
from the rear, where he had been on duty connected with ordering up
the balance of the troops, was suddenly attacked by an Indian chief.
To his dismay, the Lieutenant discovered that his sabre had become
entangled in the scabbard and would not draw. Quick as thought one
hand grasped the savage's arm, the other his neck, and in this
manner, hugging him close and galloping into ranks, he lifted
him from his horse and hurled him back among the men, who soon
dispatched him." He was made Adjutant of the First Dragoons November
8, 1860, and served with that rank, with the headquarters at San
Francisco, until January 31, 1861, when he was detached and ordered
to report at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, on recruiting service.