his eloquence; and so the character of his eloquence was a mere
emanation of his own. It was the life and soul of the man, the
patriot, the statesman. "Its highest attribute of all," says
Dionysius, "is the spirit of life--+to pneuma+--that pervades it."
A DUKE'S OPINIONS OF VIRGINIA, NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA, AND GEORGIA.
[_From a Review of "Travels of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar" in 1825-6._]
In his journey through Virginia, our traveller visited Mr. Jefferson,
with whom, however, he does not appear to have been as much struck as
he had been with the late Mr. Adams. The Natural Bridge he pronounces
"one of the greatest wonders of nature he ever beheld," albeit he had
seen "Vesuvius and the Phlegrean Fields, the Giant's Causeway in
Ireland, the Island of Staffa, and the Falls of Niagara." "Finally"
(to use a favorite mode of expression of his own), he is amazed at the
profusion of militia titles in Virginia, which almost persuaded him
that he was at the headquarters of a grand army, and at the
aristocratic notions of some of the gentlemen in the same state, who
make no secret of their taste for primogeniture laws and hereditary
nobility.
He passed through North Carolina too rapidly to do anything like
justice to the many remarkable things which that respectable state
has to boast of. Accordingly, his observations are principally
confined to the inns where he stopped, the roads over which he
travelled, and the mere exterior of the towns and villages which the
stage-coach traverses in its route. He is of opinion, from what he saw
in that region, that "it would be a good speculation to establish a
glass manufactory in a country, where there is such a want of glass,
and a superabundance of pine-trees and sand." It had almost escaped
us, that he here for the first time made the acquaintance of a "great
many large vultures, called buzzards, the shooting of which is
prohibited, as they feed upon carrion, and contribute in this manner
to the salubrity of the country." This "parlous wild-fowl" has the
honor to attract the attention of his Highness again in Charleston,
where he informs us that its life is, in like manner, protected by
law, and where it is called from its resemblance to another bird, the
turkey-buzzard. . . . In Columbia, he became acquainted with most of
the distinguished inhabitants, of whose very kind attentions to him he
speaks in high terms. The following good-natured hint too may not be
altogether useless: "At Professor Henry's a very agreeable society
assembled at dinner. At that party I observed a singular manner which
is practiced; the ladies sit down by themselves at one of the corners
of the table. But I broke the old custom, and glided between them; and
no one's appetite was injured thereby." . . . .
Nothing . . . can be a stronger exemplification of the difficulties
under which a stranger labors, in his efforts to acquire a knowledge
of a country new to him, than the perpetual mistakes which our
distinguished traveller commits in his brief notices of Georgia. . . .
Even the complexion of the people of Georgia displeased him, and,
coming from a Court where French was not only the fashionable but the
common language of social intercourse, he considers the education of
women neglected, because they are not taught that language in
situations where they might never have occasion to use it.
MIRABEAU BUONAPARTE LAMAR.
~1798=1859.~
MIRABEAU BUONAPARTE LAMAR, second president of the Republic of Texas,
was born in Louisville, Georgia. In 1835 he emigrated to Texas and
took part in the struggle for independence against Mexico, being
major-general in the army. He was successively Attorney-General in the
cabinet of President Houston, Secretary of War, Vice-president, and in
1838 President of the Republic, the second of the four presidents that
Texas had before it became a State in the Union.
In 1857-8 he was United States minister to Central America.
WORKS.
Verse Memorials.
Lamar was rather a man of action than of letters; but the following
verses speak for him as having true poetic appreciation of beauty and
power to express it.
THE DAUGHTER OF MENDOZA.
O lend to me, sweet nightingale,
Your music by the fountain,
And lend to me your cadences,
O rivers of the mountain!
That I may sing my gay brunette,
A diamond spark in coral set,
Gem for a prince's coronet--
The daughter of Mendoza.
How brilliant is the evening star,
The evening light how tender,--
The light of both is in her eyes,
Their softness and their splendor.
But for the lash that shades their light
They were too dazzling for the sight,
And when she shuts them, all is night,--
The daughter of Mendoza.
O ever bright and beauteous one,
Bewildering and beguiling,
The lute is in thy silvery tones,
The rainbow in thy smiling;
And thine is, too, o'er hill and dell,
The bounding of the young gazelle,
The arrow's flight and ocean's swell--
Sweet daughter of Mendoza!
What though, perchance, we no more meet,--
What though too soon we sever?
Thy form will float like emerald light
Before my vision ever.
For who can see and then forget
The glories of my gay brunette--
Thou art too bright a star to set,
Sweet daughter of Mendoza!
FRANCIS LISTER HAWKS.
~1798=1866.~
FRANCIS LISTER HAWKS was born at New Berne, North Carolina, and
educated at the State University. He became a clergyman of the
Episcopal Church in 1827 and was rector of parishes in New York, New
Orleans, and Baltimore. He was the first president of the University
of Louisiana, and declined three elections to the bishopric. See Life
by Rev. N. L. Richardson.
WORKS.
History of North Carolina.
History of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States.
History of the Protestant Episcopal Church in Maryland.
Constitution and Canons of the Episcopal Church.
Auricular Confession in the Episcopal Church.
Egypt and Its Monuments.
Romance of Biography.
Cyclopædia of Biography.
Perry's Expedition to Japan.
Dr. Hawks was a distinguished pulpit orator as well as an able and
untiring writer. His ecclesiastical works are considered a valuable
contribution to the history of the church in the United States.
The book from which we quote, "History of North Carolina," was
undertaken as a labor of love for his native State, prepared in the
intervals of time allowed by "a laborious and responsible profession
in a large city: . . . he frankly confesses that he would undergo such
toil for no country but North Carolina. She has a claim upon his
filial duty. In her bosom his infancy found protection and his
childhood was nourished. He here lays his humble offering in her lap."
The story of the Lost Colony of Roanoke has been called "the tragedy
of American colonization."
THE FIRST INDIAN BAPTISM IN AMERICA.
(_From History of North Carolina._)
The colony [1587] was probably not without its clergyman, and the
faithful Manteo, who was among them, had by this time become in heart
an Englishmen. . .
The mother and kindred of Manteo lived on the island of Croatan, and
thither, very soon, a visit was made by the faithful Indian and a
party of the English, who endeavored, through the instrumentality of
the islanders, to establish friendly relations with the inhabitants on
the main land; but the effort was in vain. In truth, the greater
portion of the Indians around, manifested implacable ill-will, and
had already murdered one of the assistants, who had incautiously
strayed alone from the settlement on Roanoke island.
On the 13th of August, by direction of Raleigh, given before leaving
England, Manteo was baptized, (being probably the first native of this
continent who ever received this sacrament at the hands of the
English) and was also called Lord of Roanoke and of Dasamonguepeuk, as
the reward of his fidelity.
VIRGINIA DARE, THE FIRST ENGLISH CHILD BORN IN AMERICA.
A few days after, another event, not without interest in the little
colony, occupied the attention of all; and doubtless in no small
degree enlisted the sympathies of the female portion of the
adventurers. On the 18th of August, Eleanor, the daughter of Governor
White, and wife of Mr. Dare, one of the assistants, gave birth to a
daughter, the first child born of English parents upon the soil of the
United States. On the Sunday following, in commemoration of her
birth-place, she was baptized by the name of VIRGINIA.
THE LOST COLONY OF ROANOKE.
(_From the Same._)
Governor White remained but thirty-six days in North Carolina. . . .
Before he left, however, it seems to have been understood that the
colony should remove from Roanoke Island and settle on the main land:
and as, at his return, he might be at some loss to find them, it was
further agreed that in the event of their departure during his
absence, they should carve on some post or tree the name of the place
whither they had gone; and if in distress they were to carve above it
a cross, . . . [This was in 1587.]
It was not till the 20th of March, 1590, that Governor White embarked
[at London] in three ships to seek his colony and his children. . .
White found the island of Roanoke a desert. As he approached he
sounded a signal trumpet, but no answer was heard to disturb the
melancholy stillness that brooded over the deserted spot. What had
become of the wretched colonists? No man may with certainty say: for
all that White found to indicate their fate was a high post bearing on
it the letters CRO, and at the former site of their village he found a
tree which had been deprived of its bark and bore in well cut
characters the word CROATAN. There was some comfort in finding no
cross carved above the word, but this was all the comfort the unhappy
father and grandfather could find. He of course hastened back to the
fleet, determined instantly to go to Croatan, but a combination of
unpropitious events defeated his anxious wishes; storms and a
deficiency of food forced the vessels to run for the West Indies for
the purpose of refitting, wintering and returning; but even in this
plan White was disappointed and found himself reluctantly compelled to
run for the western islands and thence for England. Thus ended the
effort to find the lost colony; they were never heard of. That they
went to Croatan, where the natives were friendly, is almost certain;
that they became gradually incorporated with them is probable from the
testimony of a historian [John Lawson] who lived in North Carolina and
wrote [published] in 1714: "The Hatteras Indians who lived on Roanoke
Island or much frequented it, tell us," (says he) "that several of
their ancestors were white people and could talk in a book, as we do;
the truth of which is confirmed by gray eyes being found frequently
amongst these Indians and no others."
GEORGE DENISON PRENTICE.
~1802=1870.~
GEORGE DENISON PRENTICE was born in Preston, Connecticut, and was a
teacher and lawyer in early life. In 1830 he went to Kentucky, and a
year afterward became editor of the Louisville "Journal," which
position he held and made illustrious during the remainder of his
life. His wit and humor gave him great influence, and his paper,
afterwards consolidated with the "Courier" and known as the
"Courier-Journal," became a power in politics, commerce, and society.
A fine statue of him adorns the Courier-Journal building in
Louisville, and his fame is by no means forgotten. "Prenticeana" is a
collection of his witty and pungent paragraphs. See Memorial address
by his successor, Henry Watterson.
WORKS.
Life of Henry Clay.
Poems, edited by John James Piatt.
Prenticeana, [with life-sketch.]
Mr. Prentice's best known poem is the "Closing Year," which
elocutionists have kept before the public and which has often inspired
young poets to sad verses on the passing of time.
THE CLOSING YEAR.
(_From Poems._[12])
'Tis midnight's holy hour--and silence now
Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er
The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds,
The bell's deep-notes are swelling. 'Tis the knell
Of the departed year.
No funeral train
Is sweeping past; yet on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest,
Like a pale, spotless shroud; the air is stirred,
As by a mourner's sigh; and on yon cloud,
That floats so still and placidly through heaven,
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand--
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form,
And Winter, with his aged locks--and breathe
In mournful cadences, that come abroad
Like the far wind harp's wild and touching wail,
A melancholy dirge o'er the dead Year,
Gone from the earth forever.
'Tis a time
For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
Still chambers of the heart a spectre dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time,
Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have passed away
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts
The coffin-lid of hope, and joy, and love,
And, bending mournfully above the pale,
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead flowers
O'er what has passed to nothingness.
The year
Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious throng
Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow,
Its shadow on each heart. In its swift course
It waved its scepter o'er the beautiful,
And they are not. It laid its pallid hand
Upon the strong man, and the haughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged
The bright and joyous, and the tearful wail
Of stricken ones is heard, where erst the song
And reckless shout resounded. It passed o'er
The battle plain, where sword, and spear, and shield
Flashed in the light of midday--and the strength
Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass,
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crushed and mouldering skeleton. It came
And faded like a wreath of mist at eve;
Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air,
It heralded its millions to their home
In the dim land of dreams.
Remorseless Time!--
Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe! what power
Can stay him in his silent course, or melt
His iron heart to pity? On, still on
He presses and forever. The proud bird,
The condor of the Andes, that can soar
Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave
The fury of the Northern hurricane
And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home,
Furls his broad wings at nightfall and sinks down
To rest upon his mountain crag--but Time
Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness,
And night's deep darkness has no chain to bind
His rushing pinion. Revolutions sweep
O'er earth, like troubled visions o'er the breast
Of dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sink,
Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles
Spring, blazing, from the ocean, and go back
To their mysterious caverns; mountains rear
To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow
Their tall heads to the plain; new empires rise,
Gathering the strength of hoary centuries,
And rush down like the Alpine avalanche,
Startling the nations; and the very stars,
Yon bright and burning blazonry of God,
Glitter awhile in their eternal depths,
And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train,
Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away,
To darkle in the trackless void; yet Time,
Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce career,
Dark, stern, all pitiless, and pauses not
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path,
To sit and muse, like other conquerors,
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.
PARAGRAPHS.
(_From Prenticeana._)
A pin has as much head as a good many authors, and a good deal more
point.
The Turkish men hold that women have no souls, and prove by their
treatment of them that they have none themselves.
A writer in the "American Agriculturist" insists that farmers ought to
learn to make better fences. Why not establish a fencing-school for
their benefit?
The thumb is a useful member, but, because you have one, you needn't
necessarily try to keep your neighbors under it.
The greatest truths are the simplest; the greatest man and women are
sometimes so, too.
A New Orleans poet calls the Mississippi the most eloquent of rivers.
It ought to be eloquent; it has a dozen mouths.
FOOTNOTE:
[12] By permission of Robert Clarke & Co., Cincinnati.
EDWARD COATE PINKNEY.
~1802=1828.~
EDWARD COATE[13] PINKNEY was the son of the distinguished orator and
statesman, William Pinkney, of Maryland, and was born in London while
his father was minister to England. After attending the College of
Baltimore, he entered the Navy at fourteen years of age and spent much
of his time of service in the Mediterranean. On his father's death,
1822, he returned to Baltimore and engaged in the practice of law, at
the same time making some reputation by his poems. "A Health" and
"Picture Song" are considered his best--their beauty makes us mourn
his early death. At the time he was numbered one of the "five greatest
poets of the country." On his return from a journey to Mexico, taken
for his health, he was elected, in 1826, professor of Belles-lettres
in the University of Maryland, formerly called the College of
Baltimore.
WORKS.
Poems: Rodolph, a Fragment, and other Poems.
A HEALTH.
I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone;
A woman of her gentle sex
The seeming paragon;
To whom the better elements
And kindly stars have given
A form so fair, that, like the air,
'Tis less of earth than heaven.
Her every tone is music's own,
Like those of morning birds,
And something more than melody
Dwells ever in her words;
The coinage of her heart are they,
And from her lips each flows
As one may see the burdened bee
Forth issue from the rose.
Affections are as thoughts to her,
The measures of her hours;
Her feelings have the fragrancy,
The freshness of young flowers;
And lovely passions, changing oft,
So fill her, she appears
The image of themselves by turns,--
The idol of past years.
Of her bright face, one glance will trace
A picture on the brain,
And of her voice in echoing hearts
A sound must long remain;
But memory such as mine of her
So very much endears,
When death is nigh my latest sigh
Will not be life's, but hers.
I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentle sex
The seeming paragon--
Her health! and would on earth there stood
Some more of such a frame,
That life might be all poetry,
And weariness a name.
SONG.
We break the glass, whose sacred wine,
To some beloved health we drain,
Lest future pledges, less divine,
Should e'er the hallowed toy profane:
And thus I broke a heart that poured
Its tide of feelings out for thee,
In draughts, by after times deplored,
Yet dear to memory.
But still the old empassioned ways
And habits of my mind remain,
And still unhappy light displays
Thine image chambered in my brain;
And still it looks as when the hours
Went by like flights of living birds,
Or that soft chain of spoken flowers
And airy gems, thy words.
FOOTNOTE:
[13] Mr. Charles Weathers Bump, Ph. D. (Johns-Hopkins), says this name
should be _Coote_, as it so stands in the register of Pinkney's
baptism, which he has seen.
[Illustration: ~Tulane University, New Orleans, La.~
Limited space permits us to give view of only one of the buildings
of this great institution.]
CHARLES ÉTIENNE ARTHUR GAYARRÉ.
~1805=----.~
CHARLES ÉTIENNE ARTHUR GAYARRÉ, descended from a family which was
among the early settlers of Louisiana, was born in New Orleans. He was
educated at the College of New Orleans, studied law in Philadelphia,
and served in the State Legislature. In 1835, he was elected to the
United States Senate, but ill-health prevented his taking the seat,
and he spent the eight succeeding years in Europe. He was afterwards
Secretary of State of Louisiana, and in the seven years of his service
he did much to promote an interest in letters and history, and to
establish the State Library on a firm basis.
He sided with his State in secession, and in 1863 recommended the
emancipation and arming of the slaves. Since the war, he has spent his
time in literary work, and has written both in English and French,
gaining a distinguished place especially as a historian.
WORKS.
Histoire de la Louisiane.
Romance of the History of Louisiana.
Louisiana: Colonial History.
Louisiana, as a French Colony.
History of the Spanish Dominion in Louisiana.
History of Louisiana, to 1861.
Phillip II. of Spain.
Fernando de Lemos.
Aubert Dubayet.
School for Politics, [drama].
Dr. Bluff, comedy in 2 Acts.
Addresses.
Judge Gayarré has been an able and tireless worker in the history and
literature of his native state. His works are admirable, full of life
and color, although his style is lacking in terseness and strength.
"He has indicated in the first volume of his 'History of Louisiana'
what might be done by a gifted fiction-writer with the picturesque
legends and traditions therein heaped together in luxuriant
confusion. One feels while reading, that the writer has been hampered
here and there by the temptation to be a romancer rather than remain a
historian, and one does not experience any surprise at this in view of
the profusion of startling and strange incidents."--Maurice Thompson.
LOUISIANA IN 1750-1770.
(_From History of Louisiana, French Domination._)
It was in this year, 1751, that two ships, which were transporting two
hundred regulars to Louisiana, stopped at Hispaniola. The Jesuits of
that island obtained permission to put on board of those ships, and to
send to the Jesuits of Louisiana, some sugar canes, and some negroes
who were used to the cultivation of this plant. The canes were put
under ground, according to the directions given, on the plantation of
the reverend fathers, which was immediately above Canal street, on a
portion of the space now occupied by the Second Municipality of the
city of New Orleans. But it seems that the experiment proved abortive,
and it was only in 1796 that the cultivation of the cane, and the
manufacturing of sugar, was successfully introduced in Louisiana, and
demonstrated to be practicable. It was then that this precious reed
was really naturalized in the colony, and began to be a source of
ever-growing wealth, [owing to the enterprise of Jean Étienne de
Boré].
On board of the same ships, there came sixty girls, who were
transported to Louisiana at the expense of the King. It was the last
emigration of the kind. These girls were married to such soldiers as
had distinguished themselves for their good conduct, and who, in
consideration of their marriage, were discharged from service.
Concessions of land were made to each happy pair, with one cow and its
calf, one cock and five hens, one gun, one axe, and one spade. During
the first three years of their settlement, they were to receive
rations of provisions, and a small quantity of powder, shot, grains
and seeds of all sorts.
Such is the humble origin of many of our most respectable and wealthy
families, and well may they be proud of a social position, which is
due to the honest industry and hereditary virtues of several
generations. Whilst some of patrician extraction, crushed under the
weight of vices, or made inert by sloth, or labor-contemning pride,
and degenerating from pure gold into vile dross, have been swept away,
and have sunk into the dregs and sewers of the commonwealth. Thus in
Louisiana, the high and the low, although the country has never
suffered from any political or civil convulsions, seem to have, in the
course of one century, frequently exchanged with one another their
respective positions, much to the philosopher's edification. . .