president of Howard College, Alabama, and later, professor of English,
Philosophy, and Law, in Richmond College, Virginia, which latter
position he filled for thirteen years. From 1881 to 1885 he was agent
of the Peabody Educational Fund; in 1885 he was appointed minister to
Spain, and on his return to America resumed the agency of the Fund.
His wise administration and his well-directed efforts have done much
to further the cause of education; and his ability and effectiveness
as a speaker and writer have given him national fame.
WORKS.
Constitutional History of Spain.
Gladstone.
Southern States of the American Union [just issued, 1895].
RELATIONS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
(_From Gladstone._[23])
By his frank utterances, expressive of his admiration of the people
and the institutions of the United States, he has provoked adverse
criticism from a portion of the English press. He thinks the Senate of
the United States "the most remarkable of all the inventions of modern
politics," and the American constitution "the most wonderful work ever
struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man," and that
"its exemption from formal change, has certainly proved the sagacity
of its constructors and the stubborn strength of the fabric."
In the same essay--_Kin Beyond Sea_--speaking of our future, he says,
"She will probably become what we are now, the head servant in the
great household of the world, the employer of all employed; because
her service will be the most and the ablest." In 1856, when the
relations between Great Britain and the United States became
considerably strained, in an able speech may be found this sentence:
"It appears to me that the two cardinal aims that we ought to keep in
view in the discussion of this question are peace and a thoroughly
cordial understanding with America for one, the honor and fame of
England for the other."
In 1884, he wrote: "The convulsion of that country between 1861 and
1865 was perhaps the most frightful which ever assailed a national
existence. The efforts which were made on both sides were marked. The
exertions by which alone the movement was put down were not only
extraordinary, they were what antecedently would have been called
impossible; and they were only rendered possible by the fact that they
proceeded from a nation where every capable citizen was enfranchised
and had a direct and an energetic interest in the well-being and unity
of the State." "No hardier republicanism was generated in New England
than in the slave States of the South, which produced so many of the
great statesmen of America."
In a conversation with Mr. Gladstone in 1887, he referred to the
enormous power and responsibilities of the United States, and
suggested that a desideratum was a new unity between our two
countries. We had that of race and language, but we needed a moral
unity of English-speaking people for the success of freedom.
The English or Anglo-Saxon race is essentially the same in its more
distinguishing characteristics. Unity of language creates unity of
thought, of literature, and largely unity of civilization and of
institutions. It facilitates social and commercial intercourse, and
must produce still more marked political phenomena. We profit
naturally by inventions, by discoveries, by constitutional struggles,
by civil and religious achievements, by lessons of traditions, by
landmarks of usage and prescription. Magna Charta, Petition of Right,
Habeas Corpus, what O'Connell even called the "glorious Revolution of
1688," are as much American as English.
England claims to have originated the representative system six
hundred years ago. Our ancestors brought to this soil, "singularly
suited for their growth, all that was democratic in the policy of
England and all that was Protestant in her religion." Our revolution,
like that of 1688, was in the main a vindication of liberties
inherited. In freedom of religion, in local self-government, and
somewhat in state autonomy, our forefathers constructed for
themselves; but nearly all the personal guarantees, of which we so
much boast on our national anniversaries, were borrowed from the
mother country.
FOOTNOTE:
[23] By permission of B. F. Johnson and Co., Richmond, Va.
MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON.
~1825=----.~
MRS. PRESTON is a native of Philadelphia, the daughter of Dr. George
Junkin who in 1848 removed to Lexington, Virginia, as president of the
Washington College, and remained there till 1861. She was married in
1857 to Prof. J. T. L. Preston of the Virginia Military Institute, her
sister Eleanor being the wife of Colonel T. J. Jackson of the same
institution.
She identified herself with the South, and her "Beechenbrook: a Rhyme
of the War" contains the poems, "Stonewall Jackson's Grave" and "Slain
in Battle." Her later writings are mostly short poems, many of them
religious, articles for magazines, and sketches of travel, all of
which breathe forth a sweet and wise influence.
WORKS.
Silverwood, [novel].
Old Songs and New.
For Love's Sake.
Book of Monograms, [travels].
Beechenbrook: a Rhyme of the War.
Cartoons, [poems].
_Translated_ Dies Irae.
Tales and articles for papers [uncollected].
THE SHADE OF THE TREES.
(On the death of Stonewall Jackson, 1863, his last words being, "Let
us pass over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.")
(_From Cartoons._[24])
[Illustration: ~Natural Bridge, Virginia.~]
What are the thoughts that are stirring his breast?
What is the mystical vision he sees?
"_Let us pass over the river and rest
Under the shade of the trees._"
Has he grown sick of his toils and his tasks?
Sighs the worn spirit for respite or ease?
Is it a moment's cool halt that he asks
Under the shade of the trees?
Is it the gurgle of waters whose flow
Ofttime has come to him borne on the breeze,
Memory listens to, lapsing so low,
Under the shade of the trees?
Nay--though the rasp of the flesh was so sore,
Faith, that had yearnings far keener than these,
Saw the soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore,
Under the shade of the trees;--
Caught the high psalms of ecstatic delight,--
Heard the harps harping, like soundings of seas,--
Watched earth's assoilèd ones walking in white
Under the shade of the trees.
O, was it strange he should pine for release,
Touched to the soul with such transports as these,--
He who so needed the balsam of peace,
Under the shade of the trees?
Yea, it was noblest for _him_--it was best,
(Questioning naught of our Father's decrees,)
_There_ to pass over the river and rest
Under the shade of the trees!
FOOTNOTE:
[24] By permission of author, and publishers, Roberts Brothers,
Boston.
CHARLES HENRY SMITH.
"BILL ARP."
~1826=----.~
CHARLES HENRY SMITH, or "Bill Arp," the "Country Philosopher," was
born in Lawrenceville, Georgia, and has made a wide reputation by his
humorous letters in the Atlanta "Constitution." He served in the
Confederate Army as colonel. Since the war, he has served his country
still by giving some very sound and good advice in his "Country
Philosopher" articles, seasoned with much humor; and his sketches of
Georgian life are valuable.
WORKS.
Bill Arp's Letters.
Articles in Atlanta "Constitution."
Fireside Sketches.
Bill Arp's Scrap-Book.
BIG JOHN, ON THE CHEROKEES.
(_From Fireside Sketches._[25])
Big John had had a little war experience--that is, he had volunteered
in a company to assist in the forcible removal of the Cherokees to the
far west in 1835. It was said that he was no belligerent then, but
wanted to see the maiden that he loved a safe transit, and so he
escorted the old chief and his clan as far as Tuscumbia, and then
broke down and returned to Ross Landing on the Tennessee River. He was
too heavy to march, and when he arrived at the Landing, a prisoner was
put in his charge for safe keeping. Ross Landing is Chattanooga now,
and John Ross lived there, and was one of the chiefs of the Cherokees.
The prisoner was his guest, and his name was John Howard Payne. He was
suspected of trying to instigate the Cherokees to revolt and fight,
and not leave their beautiful forest homes on the Tennessee and Coosa
and Oostanaula and the Etowah and Connasauga rivers. He brought Payne
back as far as New Echota, or New Town, as it was called, an Indian
settlement on the Coosawattee, a few miles east of Calhoun, as now
known. There he kept the author of "Home, Sweet Home" under guard, or
on his parole of honor, for three weeks, and night after night slept
with him in his tent, and listened to his music upon the violin, and
heard him sing his own sad songs until orders came for his discharge,
and Payne was sent under escort to Washington.
Many a time I have heard Big John recite his sad adventures. "It was a
most distressive business," said he. "Them Injuns was heart-broken; I
always knowd an Injun loved his hunting-ground and his rivers, but I
never knowd how much they loved 'em before. You know they killed Ridge
for consentin' to the treaty. They killed him on the first day's march
and they wouldent bury him. We soldiers had to stop and dig a grave
and put him away. John Ross and John Ridge were the sons of two
Scotchmen, who came over here when they were young men and mixed up
with these tribes and got their good will. These two boys were
splendid looking men, tall and handsome, with long auburn hair, and
they were active and strong, and could shoot a bow equal to the best
bowman of the tribe, and they beat 'em all to pieces on the cross-bow.
They married the daughters of the old chiefs, and when the old chiefs
died they just fell into line and succeeded to the old chiefs' places,
and the tribes liked 'em mighty well, for they were good men and made
good chiefs. Well, you see Ross dident like the treaty. He said it
wasent fair and that the price of the territory was too low, and the
fact is he dident want to go at all. There are the ruins of his old
home now over there in De Soto, close to Rome, and I tell you he was a
king. His word was the law of the Injun nations, and he had their love
and their respect. His half-breed children were the purtiest things I
ever saw in my life. Well, Ridge lived up the Oostanaula River about a
mile, and he was a good man, too. Ross and Ridge always consulted
about everything for the good of the tribes, but Ridge was a more
milder man than Ross, and was more easily persuaded to sign the treaty
that gave the lands to the State and to take other lands away out to
the Mississippi.
"Well, it took us a month to get 'em all together and begin the March
to the Mississippi, and they wouldn't march then. The women would go
out of line and set down in the woods and go to grieving; and you may
believe it or not, but I'll tell you what is a fact, we started with
14,000, and 4,000 of 'em died before we got to Tuscumbia. They died on
the side of the road; they died of broken hearts; they died of
starvation, for they wouldent eat a thing; they just died all along
the way. We didn't make more than five miles a day on the march, and
my company didn't do much but dig graves and bury Injuns all the way
to Tuscumbia. They died of grief and broken hearts, and no mistake. An
Injun's heart is tender, and his love is strong; it's his nature. I'd
rather risk an Injun for a true friend than a white man. He is the
best friend in the world and the worst enemy."
FOOTNOTE:
[25] By permission of the author.
ST. GEORGE H. TUCKER.
~1828=1863.~
ST. GEORGE H. TUCKER, grandson of Judge St. George Tucker, was born
at Winchester, Virginia. He was clerk of the Virginia Legislature:
and in 1861 he entered the Confederate service and rose to be
Lieutenant-Colonel. He died from exposure in the Seven Days' Battles
around Richmond, 1862.
His "Hansford" is considered one of the best of historical romances
and gives a vivid picture of Virginia in the seventeenth century under
Governor Berkeley.
WORKS.
Hansford, A Tale of Bacon's Rebellion.
The Southern Crop.
BURNING OF JAMESTOWN IN 1676.
(_From Hansford._)
Scarcely had Berkeley and his adherents departed on their flight from
Jamestown, when some of the disaffected citizens of the town, seeing
the lights in the palace so suddenly extinguished, shrewdly suspected
their design. Without staying to ascertain the truth of their
suspicions, they hastened with the intelligence to General Bacon, and
threw open the gates to the insurgents. Highly elated with the easy
victory they had gained over the loyalists, the triumphant patriots
forgetting their fatigue and hunger, marched into the city, amid the
loud acclamations of the fickle populace. But to the surprise of all
there was still a gloom resting upon Bacon and his officers. That
cautious and far-seeing man saw at a glance, that although he had
gained an immense advantage over the royalists, in the capture of the
metropolis, it was impossible to retain it in possession long. As soon
as his army was dispersed, or engaged in another quarter of the
colony, it would be easy for Berkeley, with the navy under his
command, to return to the place, and erect once more the fallen
standard of loyalty.
While then, the soldiery were exulting rapturously over their triumph,
Bacon, surrounded by his officers, was gravely considering the best
policy to pursue.
"My little army is too small," he said, "to leave a garrison here, and
so long as they remain thus organized peace will be banished from the
colony; and yet I cannot leave the town to become again the harbour of
these treacherous loyalists."
"I can suggest no policy that is fit to pursue, in such an emergency,"
said Hansford, "except to retain possession of the town, at least
until the Governor is fairly in Accomac again."
"That, at best," said Bacon, "will only be a dilatory proceeding, for
sooner or later, whenever the army is disbanded, the stubborn old
governor will return and force us to continue the war. And besides I
doubt whether we could maintain the place with Brent besieging us in
front, and the whole naval force of Virginia, under the command of
such expert seamen as Gardiner and Larimore, attacking us from the
river. No, no, the only way to untie the Gordian knot is to cut it,
and the only way to extricate ourselves from this difficulty is to
burn the town."
This policy, extreme as it was, in the necessities of their condition
was received with a murmur of assent. Lawrence and Drummond, devoted
patriots, and two of the wealthiest and most enterprising citizens of
the town, evinced their willingness to sacrifice their private means
to secure the public good, by firing their own houses. Emulating an
example so noble and disinterested, other citizens followed in their
wake. The soldiers, ever ready for excitement, joined in the fatal
work. A stiff breeze springing up favored their designs, and soon the
devoted town was enveloped in the greedy flames.
From the deck of the _Adam and Eve_, the loyalists witnessed the
stern, uncompromising resolution of the rebels. The sun was just
rising, and his broad, red disc was met in his morning glory with
flames as bright and as intense as his own. The Palace, the State
House, the large Garter Tavern, the long line of stores, and the
Warehouse, all in succession were consumed. The old Church, the proud
old Church, where their fathers had worshipped, was the last to meet
its fate. The fire seemed unwilling to attack its sacred walls, but it
was to fall with the rest; and as the broad sails of the gay vessel
were spread to the morning breeze, which swelled them, that devoted
old Church was seen in its raiment of fire, like some old martyr,
hugging the flames which consumed it, and pointing with its tapering
steeple to an avenging Heaven.
GEORGE WILLIAM BAGBY.
~1828=1883.~
DR. BAGBY was born in Buckingham County, Virginia, and educated at
Edge Hill, New Jersey, and the University of Pennsylvania. He took his
degree in the study of medicine, and made his residence in Richmond.
He was correspondent for several papers, wrote some very witty letters
under the pen-name of "Mozis Addums," and made a reputation as a
humorous lecturer. From 1859 to 1862 he was editor of the "Southern
Literary Messenger," ably succeeding John R. Thompson in that
position: and from 1870 to 1878 he was State Librarian of Virginia.
His writings are not only witty but wise as well, and give many
interesting aspects of Southern life and manners. A selection from
them has been published by Mrs. Bagby, under the title "Writings of
Dr. Bagby" (1884-6). Among them are: My Uncle Flatback's Plantation,
Meekins's Twinses, Jud. Brownin's Account of Rubinstein's Playing,
Bacon and Greens, or the True Virginian, What I Did with my Fifty
Millions, [a sort of Utopian Prophecy.]
JUD. BROWNIN'S ACCOUNT OF RUBINSTEIN'S PLAYING.
"When he first sot down he 'peared to keer mighty little 'bout
playin', and wished he hadn't come. He tweedle-leedled a little on the
trible, and twoodle-oodle-oodled some on the bass--just foolin' and
boxin' the thing's jaws for bein' in his way. And I says to a man
settin' next to me, s'I, 'What sort of fool playin' is that?' And he
says, 'Heish!' But presently his hands commenced chasin' one 'nother
up and down the keys, like a passel of rats scamperin' through a
garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a
sugar squirrel turnin' the wheel of a candy cage. 'Now,' I says to my
neighbor, 'he's showing' off. He thinks he's a-doin' of it; but he
ain't got no idee, no plan of nuthin'. If he'd play me up a tune of
some kind or other, I'd'--
"But my neighbor says, 'Heish!' very impatient.
"I was just about to git up and go home, bein' tired of that
foolishness, when I heard a little bird wakin' up away off in the
woods, and callin' sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and I see
that Ruben was beginnin' to take interest in his business, and I set
down agin. It was the peep of day. The light come faint from the east,
the breeze blowed gentle and fresh, some more birds waked up in the
orchard, then some more in the trees near the house, and all begun
singin' together. People begun to stir, and the gal opened the
shutters. Just then the first beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms;
a leetle more and it techt the roses on the bushes, and the next thing
it was broad day; the sun fairly blazed; the birds sang like they'd
split their little throats; all the leaves was movin', and flashin'
diamonds of dew, and the whole wide world was bright and happy as a
king. Seemed to me like there was a good breakfast in every house in
the land, and not a sick child or woman anywhere. It was a fine
mornin'.
"And I says to my neighbor, 'that's music, that is.'
"But he glared at me like he'd like to cut my throat.
"Presently the wind turned; it begun to thicken up, and a kind of gray
mist come over things; I got low-spirited d'rectly. Then a silver rain
began to fall; I could see the drops touch the ground; some flashed
up like long pearl ear-rings; and the rest rolled away like round
rubies. It was pretty, but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered
themselves into long strands and necklaces, and then they melted into
thin silver streams running between golden gravels, and then the
streams joined each other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook
that flowed silent except that you could kinder see the music
specially when the bushes on the banks moved as the music went along
down the valley. I could smell the flowers in the meadows. But the sun
didn't shine, nor the birds sing; it was a foggy day, but not cold.
Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a
lost child for its dead mother, and I could a-got up then and there
and preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn't
a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I
didn't want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable
than to be happy without being miserable. I couldn't understand
it. . . . . . . Then, all of a sudden, old Ruben changed his tune. He
ripped and he rar'd, he tipped and he tar'd, he pranced and he charged
like the grand entry at a circus. 'Peared to me like all the gas in
the house was turned on at once, things got so bright, and I hilt up
my head, ready to look any man in the face, and not afeared of
nothin'. It was a circus, and a brass band, and a big ball, all goin'
on at the same time. He lit into them keys like a thousand of brick,
he gave 'em no rest, day nor night; he set every living joint in me
agoin', and not bein' able to stand it no longer, I jumpt spang onto
my seat, and jest hollered:
"'_Go it, my Rube!_'
"Every blamed man, woman, and child in the house riz on me, and
shouted 'Put him out! Put him out!'
"With that some several p'licemen run up, and I had to simmer down.
But I would a fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to
hear Ruby out or die.
"He had changed his tune agin. He hopt-light ladies and tip-toed fine
from eend to eend of the key-board. He played soft, and low, and
solemn. I heard the church bells over the hills. The candles in heaven
was lit, one by one. I saw the stars rise. The great organ of eternity
began to play from the world's end to the world's end, and all the
angels went to prayers. Then the music changed to water, full of
feeling that couldn't be thought, and began to drop--drip, drop, drip,
drop--clear and sweet, like tears of joy fallin' into a lake of glory.
"He stopt a minute or two, to fetch breath. Then he got mad. He run
his fingers through his hair, he shoved up his sleeves, he opened
his coat-tails a leetle further, he drug up his stool, he leaned
over, and, sir, he just went for that old pianner. He slapt her
face, he boxed her jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears,
and he scratched her cheeks, till she farly yelled. He knockt her
down and he stompt on her shameful. She bellowed like a bull, she
bleated like a calf, she howled like a hound, she squealed like a
pig, she shrieked like a rat, and then he wouldn't let her up. He
run a quarter-stretch down the low grounds of the bass, till he got
clean into the bowels of the earth, and you heard thunder galloping
after thunder, through the hollows and caves of perdition; and then
he fox-chased his right hand with his left till he got away out of
the trible into the clouds, whar the notes was finer than the pints
of cambric needles, and you couldn't hear nothin' but the shadders
of 'em. And then he wouldn't let the old pianner go. He fetchet up
his right wing, he fetcht up his left wing, he fetcht up his center,
he fetcht up his reserves. He fired by file, he fired by platoons,
by company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his cannon,
siege-guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve-pounders yonder, big
guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round shot, shell, shrapnel,
grape, canister, mortars, mines, and magazines, every livin' battery
and bomb a goin' at the same time. The house trembled, the lights
danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin' come down,
the sky split, the ground rockt--BANG! With that _bang!_ he lifted
hisself bodily into the ar', and he come down with his knees, his
ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and his nose, strikin' every
single solitary key on that pianner at the same time. The thing
busted and went off into seventeen hundred and fifty-seven thousand
five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi-quivers, and I know'd no
mo'."
SARAH ANNE DORSEY.
~1829=1879.~
MRS. DORSEY, daughter of Thomas G. P. Ellis, was born at Natchez,
Mississippi, and was a niece of Mrs. Catherine Warfield who left to
her many of her unpublished manuscripts. She was finely educated and
travelled extensively. In 1853 she was married to Mr. Samuel W. Dorsey
of Tensas Parish, Louisiana. Here she found scope for her energies in
the duties of plantation life. She established a chapel and school for
the slaves, and her account of the success of her plans gained her the
title of "Filia Ecclesiae" from the "Churchman." She afterwards used
"Filia" as a pen-name.
[Illustration: ~University of Mississippi, University P. O., Miss.~]
Their home being destroyed during the war in a skirmish which took
place in their garden, and in which several men were killed, Mr. and
Mrs. Dorsey removed to Texas. They afterwards returned to Louisiana;
and in 1875, upon the death of Mr. Dorsey, Mrs. Dorsey made her home
at "Beauvoir," her place in Mississippi. Here she spent her time in
writing, and also acted as amanuensis to Jefferson Davis in his great
work, "Rise and Fall of the Confederacy." At her death, which occurred
at New Orleans, whither she had gone for treatment, she left
"Beauvoir" by will to Mr. Davis and his daughter Winnie.
Her "Life of Allen" is of great historical and biographical merit.
WORKS.