but these concessions from a thoughtful scholar at least will carry
weight. The continuous existence of Scandinavian influence in England
is suggestive of the circumstance that the Danish conquest of England
preceded the Norman conquest by "exactly half a century." An Englishman
(Odericus Vitalis), writing almost contemporaneously with the Norman
conquest, describes his countrymen as having been found by the
Normans "a rustic and almost illiterate people" (_agrestes et pene
illiteratos_). And yet, says Dr. Craik, the dawn of the revival of
letters in England may properly be dated from a point about fifty years
antecedent to the Norman conquest. To what, then, must be ascribed
this scholastic renascence? Very clearly to the intimate relations
established between England and Normandy by Edward the Confessor. But
there is no trace of the new literature (that of the Arabic school
which was prevalent in Europe) having found its way to England "before
the Norman conquest swept into the benighted old kingdom, carrying
the torch of learning in its train." The name of Lanfranc alone gives
splendor to that civilization which his genius created for the English
race. He not only lighted the torch of learning, but he strengthened
the reins of power. He restrained the lawless impetuosity of William
the Conqueror; he imposed iron conditions upon the accession of William
Rufus; he checked the atrocities, and finally broke the power, of Odo
of Bayeux. His work was well done, and its effects are visible to this
day. He was the real power behind the throne. It is not easy, says
an eminent English writer, to trace through the length of centuries
"the measureless and invisible benefits which the life of one scholar
bequeaths to the world." But such was the life, the work, the bequest
of this Norman scholar, who died honored and beloved even by the
rude, sullen, and implacable race which had been subjugated by the
Norman kings. But Dr. Craik, with all his liberality and learning, is
not disposed to accept the theory of a great migration or settlement
preceding, or accompanying or following, the Norman conquest in the
Eleventh Century. To be sure, this theory was not elaborately or
effectively presented until of late years; but Dr. Craik, writing as
far back as the opening of our "War between the States," seems to
contradict this theory by anticipation--"In point of fact, the Normans
never transferred themselves in a body, or generally, to England.
It was never thus taken possession of by the Normans. It was never
colonized by these foreigners, or occupied by them in any other than
a military sense. It received a foreign government, but not at all a
new population." Yet even Dr. Craik seems to appreciate the lesson
of "names." He thinks it remarkable, for instance, that though we
find a good many names of natives of Gaul in connection with the last
age of Roman literature, scarcely a British name has been preserved.
Even in Juvenal's days the pleaders of Britain were trained by the
eloquent scholars of Gaul. The significance of a name in determining
family origin is a common assumption of our familiar speech. "That is
a _Virginian_ name," we say; and if we find many Virginian names in a
given locality we naturally infer that the town, or the county, or the
locality, large or small, was originally settled by Virginians. In one
of our old Bluegrass counties two of these settlements were made in
pioneer times, about two miles apart. One is known as "Jersey Ridge,"
the other as "Tuckahoe." If in both localities we find an English
stock with Anglo-Norman names we should naturally assume a common
derivation from the Anglo-Norman branch of the great British race.
[Illustration: JOSEPH HAMILTON DAVEISS.]
But that accomplished philologist, Dr. Craik, seems to be quite in
sympathy with the views of Du Chaillu touching the ancestral relations
of the Scandinavian to the English race; and Dr. Craik's eminent
American compeer, Mr. George P. Marsh, is not hopelessly wedded
to fixed conclusions, and has by no means overlooked the obvious
Scandinavian affinities of the English tongue. "Almost every sound,"
says the latter, "which is characteristic of English orthoëpy, is
met with in one or other of the Scandinavian languages, and almost
all their peculiarities, except those of intonation, _are found in
English_; while between our articulation and that of the German
dialects the most nearly related to the _Anglo-Saxon_ there are many
irreconcilable discrepancies." If to determine the relative proportions
of linguistic and ethnic elements in dialect and race were "a hopeless
and unprofitable task," this would seem to invalidate all general
conclusions in the matter.
A few days after the very lively discussion of M. Du Chaillu's epochal
paper in the Free Library of Newcastle, there appeared in a great
newspaper a contemporary estimate of his views, which was received by
its multitudinous constituency with profound interest and respect. It
was the rolling voice of "the Thunderer"--the famous London _Times_.
In all crises in the national life, the influence of this journal is
felt. It is not a mere priestly oracle, silent except at times, but a
divinity that never ceases to speak; clothed with strangely beneficent
powers, and in the exercise of legitimate influence as resistless as
the fabled might of the Scandinavian Thor. It _forms_ opinion;--it
_fixes_ opinion;--it _reflects_ opinion;--it gives effect to the
popular will. It has been felicitously characterized as the "vast
shadow of the public mind."
On the 21st of September, 1889, the _Times_, after a full report of
the ethnological discussion in Section H, had this to say by way
of editorial comment: "Perhaps the great sensation of the Section
was M. Du Chaillu's paper, intended to prove that we are _all
Scandinavians_.... This paper, combined with that of Canon Taylor, and
the discussion that followed both, seemed to show that the time is ripe
for a perfectly new investigation of the whole question of the origin
and migration of the races which inhabit Europe and Asia; and, that, on
lines in which language will play only a subordinate part."
Thus much for the startling theory discussed by the Anthropological
Section at Newcastle.
In a subsequent correspondence, which appeared in the London _Times_,
M. Du Chaillu challenged archæologists to point out remains in any
other part of Europe so like those of the early Anglo-Saxons in England
as the relics he figures from Scandinavia in England. It is not always
easy to indicate with precision the cradle of an ancient race; and even
if such remains were found on the coasts of Holland and North Germany,
the discovery would not seriously affect the conclusions that seem to
have been reached as to ancestral relations of the Scandinavian and the
Norman to the English race in England and the United States. One might
abandon altogether the main line of M. Du Chaillu's argument, (1) his
careful analysis of the Sagas and other ancient documents and (2) his
comparison of the antiquities upon which the challenge rests, and yet
there would remain something more than a strong presumption that the
animating principle of the English race, in its leading branches, is
the Scandinavian blood. It would seem to be quite in conformity with
the law of nature that the daring, crafty, and indomitable race which
still shapes the political destinies of men, which is historically
traceable in its schemes of conquest and subjugation for a thousand
years, and which is precisely traceable upon geographical lines in its
movements of colonization or war, should have derived its enterprising
characteristics from the only race which has demonstrably transmitted
its conquering and colonizing traits within historic times: to wit,
the Scandinavian pirates that were conceived upon stormy waters,
spawned upon an icy coast, and swept, apparently in a career of
predestined conquest, from the waters of the Baltic to the ends of the
earth. The nations shrank from the Rover in fear. The Frenchman, at
least, learned to dread his power, and the Saxon submitted with sullen
acquiescence to his rule. He sowed the seed of conquest with his blood,
and upon whatever shore he drove his keel he planted himself fiercely
upon the soil to stay. Is it to be supposed for an instant that this
puissant racial force was dissipated and lost? Not so. The light, the
fire, the sweep, the coruscating energies, the resistless currents, the
driving forces are still there. The power is not "off"!
[Illustration: HONORABLE HENRY CLAY.]
Nevertheless, it may be--to use the phrase of the London _Times_--that
"the time for a new investigation of the whole question is now ripe."
VI
Those were stirring days in the old Northumbrian city by the sea. And
to the utmost border of that ancient kingdom the busy populations
were alive with expectation and hope. Little cared they for the Sea
Rover now. He no longer enjoyed, as once, the freedom of the city and
the sea. They were really as indifferent to the vexed question as the
philosophic Canon Taylor humorously affected to be. The loquacious
savants might settle matters to suit themselves; but there was another
question, probably of equal importance, for popular consideration; and
a question of far greater moment too, to a man with blood in his veins;
a question which touched at once the pocket and the heart; to wit, the
last of the classic races at Doncaster, the St. Leger and the great
Yorkshire Stakes. Will the Duke of Portland's "Donovan"--a Southern
horse of great beauty, speed, and "luck"--win in the coming contest
with "Chitabob," the pride and hope of the North? There was anxiety
in every face. The touts had come from their work at Doncaster, and
Chitabob was reported to be lame; his old enemy (rheumatism) had seized
his foreleg; he was not equal to a canter: could do only three hours'
walk in the paddock near the ring. In spite of the conditions and the
resulting consternation of Chitabob's friends, his nervy young owner
insists that "matters are not so bad as they seem, and the _horse will
run_." Meantime, the betting is against him--two to one on Donovan;
in rapid sequence six--seven--ten against Chitabob. The situation was
highly sensational; the state of excitement in Doncaster was intense;
even Chitabob's friend, "Guyon" (a noted sportsman), had surrendered
hope. The owner, young Mr. Perkins, was alone undismayed; and the men
of the stalls were as game as the horse. "He can win on three legs,"
they declared. "I do not think so," said Guyon, "and though common
sense prompts me to go for Donovan, I am full of hope and sympathy for
Chitabob. The splendid fellow has always carried my money, and I will
back him to-day. He is too grand a horse to let him run loose, but it
is very clear to my mind that Donovan will win." The loyal sportsman
proved to be an infallible prophet--_Chitabob lost_.
As one looks intently upon such a scene as this, Doncaster disappears
and Kentucky rises on the eye. The story of Chitabob recalls the
traditions of Grey Eagle, that superb and exquisite idol of the
mid-century Kentuckian's heart; his brilliant and exciting contest
with Wagner; his gallant start, his matchless stride, the vast crowd,
the wild applause;--"the strained tendon," the slackened speed, the
failing strength--the lost race. But the defeated racer was always
(like Clay or Breckinridge) the idol of the State;--_the Champion of
Kentucky_--as Chitabob was the Champion of the North.
Imported "Yorkshire" was, likewise, a famous horse in the history of
the Southern turf, and his blood still mingles with that of our finest
strains. We note in Kentucky a noble reproduction of the old lines,
both in man and horse; it was entirely fit that such a Virginian as
Commodore Morgan should bestow such a gift as "Yorkshire" upon such
a Kentuckian as Henry Clay. It was a gift for a king, and there were
marks of royal lineage in both man and horse; lines that were souvenirs
of a royal race. Traditions tell us, and the casual traveler notes
abundant proof of the fact, that the "typical Kentuckian" is indebted
for many of his traits to the old Northumbrian blood. Even the familiar
speech of the Yorkshireman recalls much that is characteristic in
the dialect of Kentucky; as "mad," for angry or vexed; "thick," for
friendly or intimate; "thumping," for big; "rattling good," for very
good; "plump," for quite or entirely, as "shot plump through"; "whole
lot," for a large number; "what's up?" for what's the matter? etc.
Were not these words and phrases conveyed by racial migration from the
North of England to Virginia and from Virginia to Kentucky in days
lang syne? Have you never heard among the old horsemen of the Bluegrass
the odd expression, "The colt will be two years old next 'grass'"?
"It is curious," says Mr. Marsh, "that the same expression is used in
_Scandinavia_." In Denmark and Sweden, he adds, as well as in England,
the gentlemen of the chase and turf reckon the age of their animals by
"springs"--the season of verdure being the ordinary "birth season" of
the horse; and a colt, therefore, is said to be so many years old next
"grass."
The same writer informs us that the names of the two brothers, Hengist
and Horsa--both names of the genus _horse_--are words in one or another
form common to all the Scandinavian dialects. A Danish colonel told
Mr. Marsh that in a company in his regiment there were two privates
bearing these names, who were as inseparable in their association as
the Hengist and Horsa of old. An ardent theorist, like a jealous lover,
may find confirmation strong in trifles light as air. It is a far cry
from old Scandinavia to old Kentucky, but what brain is broad enough,
what spirit is subtle enough, to comprehend the variety and infinitude
of delicate, airy, intangible influences by which the busy hands of
destiny have brought them together? Not the least of these agencies
were affinities, customs, explorations, battles, contests, migrations,
and the "wingy mysteries" of kindred names or words.
Edward Lee Childe, in his admirable life of his kinsman, General
Robert Lee (Paris, France, 1874), says that in 1192 we find a Lionel
Lee at the head of a company of gentlemen accompanying Richard
of the Lion-Heart in his third Crusade. In the original the word
here translated "gentlemen" is _gentilshommes_. A word of somewhat
different connotation from its English equivalent, but sufficiently
alike in meaning to justify the assumption that England is indebted to
Normandy for the word, and, essentially, for what the word connotes or
implies--_the chief or leader of a family or gens_. The followers of
Lionel Lee were, therefore, a military élite. The original conception
of the word still lingers among the Anglo-Norman races. That the word
in its later English form has taken on a finer sense is illustrated
by the famous speech of the Great Nicholas to Sir Hamilton Seymour.
The diplomacy of the Czar neither asked nor conceded conventional
guarantees. "Before all things," he said, "I am an English gentleman"
(_un gentilhomme Anglais_). The word "cavalierism," used by M. Taine,
reminds us that England, long before the Conquest, was indebted to
Normandy for the "Cavalier"; that the "man-on-horseback" was the
Cavalier; that the Cavalier and gentilhomme were conspicuous in the
ranks of the Conqueror, and, not to be too precise, may be said to
have come down the centuries together. In a certain conventional
sense it is proper, no doubt, to say that the Cavalier in England was
a gentleman; and, always, in Normandy _un gentilhomme_. But it was
only in later days, as in the splendid epoch of the Stuarts, that the
qualities of the gentleman, fusing with the character of the Cavalier,
gave a peculiar dignity, elevation, and distinction to the natural and
recognized leaders of the English race. But the bonniest cavalier,
undisciplined by social culture, had precisely those defects of his
qualities which the term "cavalierism" was invented by Sir Walter
Scott to express. The qualities depicted in Esmond by Thackeray were
not conspicuous in Scott's portraiture of "Claverhouse" or "Montrose."
Gentilhomme, Cavalier, and Gentleman were descriptive terms evolved
under similar historic conditions, and derived from the same linguistic
source. An Anglo-Norman Kentuckian who figured conspicuously in the
late War between the States humorously adjusted all differences as
to the proper designation in that day, by addressing his friends in
familiar conversation as "Gentle-homines," a felicitous appellative not
only for Kentuckians, but for friendly Indians as well. The _effigies_
of the "man-on-horseback" (a familiar phrase in English ears) was
officially introduced to the English public by an English king, who in
everything save birth and blood was typically Norman himself. It is
indelibly stamped upon the Great Seal of England, and not upon one seal
alone. The most casual inspection of the famous Guildhall collection
will show, stamped upon Seal after Seal through a long succession of
Anglo-Norman kings, the same equestrian figure which, obviously of
Norman origin, had appeared in England before the Conquest; and which
centuries later was designed by an Anglo-Norman engraver upon the Great
Seal of the American Confederate States. The artist was Wyon (engraver
to the Queen), and the original of the symbolic figure was that
immortal Cavalier, GEORGE WASHINGTON--a man of Anglo-Norman blood.
It may be said that Kentucky offered physical conditions that were
exceptional, for the production of "Cavaliers."
[Illustration: GOVERNOR JOSEPH DESHA.]
A scientific explorer found upon the icy coast of the Straits of
Magellan a growth of English grass--fresh, green, flourishing, and as
full of fight for existence as the stock or race from which it took its
name. It was like the grass described in the Hudibrastic skit of the
bluegrass Colonel:
"Where bluegrass grew the winter through--
And where it blooms in summer, too."
It was a species of _Poa_, closely akin in its characteristics to _Poa
Pratensis_, the famous Bluegrass of Kentucky--a cosmopolitan grass;
at home everywhere, but always seeking congenial skies; rooting itself
firmly and clinging tenaciously; standing in with the rich soils and
the strong races; unseating old sod; standing off all casual intruders;
driving out all competing grasses; casting its own lines in pleasant
places; dividing honors with _Zea Mays_, the stateliest of all grasses,
and yielding to no competition save here and there to the cryptic,
mossy growth that at last covers with oblivion the homes and the tombs
of men. Even the grasping, aggressive _Poa_ yields to the power of
_moss_; and mossback monstrosities may be found even among the vigorous
offshoots of the Anglo-Norman race. Yet, was it not an extraordinary
incident of the evolution of our Western world that in the genesis
of the Commonwealth of Kentucky two such factors or agencies as the
_Race_ and the _Grass_--inseparably linked--should be predestined each
to a special function in the common work? "Either," said a sagacious
observer from New England, "no other land ever lent itself so easily
to civilization as the Bluegrass region, or it was _exceptionally
fortunate in its inhabitants_." The alternative suggests that if
this miracle of evolution be attributable to _either_ of the causes
named--_civilizableness of the land or adaptableness of race_--then
there can be but one conclusion should the result be ascribed to the
operation of _both_. This speculative suggestion as to the genetic or
determining element in the evolution of the Bluegrass State came from
the pen of that gifted and genial writer, Charles Dudley Warner, many
years ago. He was then visiting Kentucky, and reporting in a series of
papers his observations, as a visitor, for an influential publication
in the East. Please note this unconscious implication as to _grass_
and _race_ from a philosophic tourist of the olden times. "Grass" or
"Race"--but what Race?
VII
The continuous application of three acute and powerful minds along
the same line of thought, in the first half of the last century--an
unconscious or undesigned collaboration (so to speak) of Lamarck, St.
Beuve, and Hippolyte Taine--evolved a marvelous instrument of critical
and philosophic research; furnishing for every capable thinker a
method adapted to the investigation of all subjects, great and small;
neglecting no phase, shrinking from no interpretation, rejecting
no authentic fact, and having in perfection the magical quality of
adjustment to conditions described in the Arabian tale. In his English
notes, for example, M. Taine, if too frank, is singularly felicitous
and discriminative in his physical descriptions of certain Anglican
types of race--presenting, first, the beastly, repulsive traits of the
_MALE_; the lowering, dog-like physiognomy, the huge jowl; the dull red
eyes; the gluttonous chops; the swinish snout, the congested facial
tissues; the gross, unwieldy figure, the bloated features and the
protuberant accumulations of abdominal fat--thus graphically depicting,
by way of philosophical illustration, an anthropoid incarnation of
animal appetite. The picture is not flattering, but it certainly
embodies some familiar traits, of which it is entirely pardonable
to make a philosophic use. Next he introduces the Boadicean or
Brobdingnagian _FEMALE_--"broad, stiff, and destitute of ideas"--with
heavy features, lifeless, fishy eyes, coarse, congested complexion,
a clumsy figure, large feet, unshapely hands, and an utter lack of
style and taste--notably in the bizarre combinations of color in her
dress. Moreover, he says, two out of every three have their feet
shod with stout masculine boots, and as to their long, projecting
teeth--huge white teeth--it is impossible to train oneself to endure
them. "Is this," he inquires philosophically, "a cause or an effect of
the carnivorous regime?" Plainly enough the cause--the remote cause
at least--the determining cause, is what is designated by M. Taine
elsewhere as "the hereditary conformation of race." These fat, huge,
fierce, vicious, dull, ill-shaped creatures are distinctly of a Saxon
strain. In Cedric's day they were the Gurths who herded the swine, and
the "gigantic jades" who in the very teeth of Mother Church persisted
in a merciless disciplinary "flogging of their slaves." Suggestions of
racial derivation are seldom questioned in ordinary life. Every English
thinker recognizes the fact. The biographer of an eminent English
lawyer says that he combined, in the most pleasing fashion, fineness of
physical texture with courage, high character, and the perfection of
personal charm. The same writer thinks it necessary to explain that
on the maternal side the gifted lawyer "came of gentle blood." Apart
from personal characteristics, the very name of the maternal _gens_
bore witness to her Norman descent--a name that has been familiar
in Kentucky from the foundation of the State. According to the same
biographer the conditions on the paternal side were quite different.
An uncle, of the ruder strain, declared, in view of prospective
Revolutionary tribunals, that _his_ veins were "uncontaminated with
one drop of gentility." He stood among the intellectual aristocracy of
England just the same.
But, if the philosophic Taine is severe in his characterization of
the "carnivorous types" of the English race, he makes ample amends
in his descriptions of others. Not every Englishman is like the
landlord in Barnaby Rudge--"half ox, half bull." "On the contrary,"
says this admirable Frenchman, "when the person is a cultured and
intelligent gentleman, the phlegmatic temperament imparts to the
English personality a perfectly noble air. I have several of them in
my memory, with pale complexion, clear blue eyes, regular features,
constituting one of the finest types of the human species. There is no
excess of cavalierism, of glittering gallantry after the style of the
French gentleman; one is conscious of a mind wholly self-contained, a
brain which can not lose its balance. They elevate this quality of
their temperament into a virtue; according to them the chief merit
of a man is always to have a clear and cool head. They are right;
nothing is more desirable in misfortune and in danger. This is one of
their national traits." Taine's historic ideal of this type is William
Pitt. The awkwardness and erubescent bashfulness, so often observed
in English social life, "is wholly physical," says M. Taine, "and
a peculiarity of _Teutonic_ nations." It is certainly not the fine
repose that is supposed to mark the caste of Never Care. _Another_
type admired by this clever Frenchman is thus described: "The blond
maiden with downcast eyes, purer than one of Raffaelle's Madonnas, a
sort of Eve, incapable of falling, whose voice is music, adorable in
candour, gentleness, and goodness, and before whom one is tempted to
lower the eyes out of respect. Since Virginia, Imogen, and the other
women of Shakespeare or his great contemporaries--from these to Esther
and to the Agnes of Dickens--English literature has placed them in the
foreground; they are the perfect flower of the land."