But ne'er can fix them on the lofty wall,
Nor tell them, save as she of Endor told
What she beheld to Saul.
WASHINGTON AND LEE.
(_From Memorial Ode._)
Our history is a shining sea
Locked in by lofty land,
And its great Pillars of Hercules,
Above the shifting sand
I here behold in majesty
Uprising on each hand.
These Pillars of our history,
In fame forever young,
Are known in every latitude
And named in every tongue,
And down through all the Ages
Their story shall be sung.
The Father of his Country
Stands above that shut-in sea,
A glorious symbol to the world
Of all that's great and free;
And to-day Virginia matches him--
And matches him with Lee.
FOOTNOTE:
[32] By permission of Mrs. Jane Barren Hope Marr.
JAMES WOOD DAVIDSON.
~1829=----.~
JAMES WOOD DAVIDSON was born in Newberry County, South Carolina, and
educated at South Carolina College, Columbia. He taught at Winnsboro
and at Columbia until the opening of the war, when he enlisted as a
volunteer in the Army of Northern Virginia, and served throughout the
great struggle. After the war he taught again in Columbia till 1871.
Then he removed to Washington and in 1873 to New York, where he
engaged in literary and journalistic work. He has also lived in
Florida and represented Dade County in the State Legislature. He is
now living in Washington City.
WORKS.
Living Writers of the South, (1869).
The Correspondent.
Poetry of the Future.
Dictionary of Southern Authors, [unfinished].
School History of South Carolina.
Bell of Doom, [a poem].
Florida of To-day.
Helen of Troy, [a romance of ancient Greece; unfinished.]
Dr. Davidson's "Living Writers of the South" has made his name well
known as a critic and student of literature, and his labors in behalf
of Southern letters entitle him to high regard.
THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE POETICAL.
(_From Poetry of the Future._[33])
The relation between the Beautiful and Beauty on the one hand, and the
Poetical and Poetry on the other, has generally been seen, when seen
at all, vaguely; that is to say, seen as the Beautiful and the
Poetical themselves have been seen--"in a mirror darkly." This
indistinctness seems to have grown out of the faulty views of nature
taken by the speculators. . . . . . . . . . In brief, then, Nature is
an effect--a product--of a Power lying behind or above it; and it
stands, accordingly, to that Power in the relation of an effect to a
cause. That cause we shall describe as Spiritual; the effect, as
Natural. The Natural, or Nature, is the material Universe embracing
the three kingdoms, known as mineral, vegetable, and animal. . . . .
Such being the case, everything in nature is a correspondent of some
thing--is expressive of and consequently representative and
exponential of something--above it or behind it; and that something is
an idea--a thing not material. It follows, then, that every object in
nature has real character in itself as a representative of an idea;
just as, say, an anchor is representative of hope, a heart, of love,
an olive branch, of peace, and a ring, of marriage. . .
We next come to consider the percipient mind. Men's minds have limited
and imperfect faculties and capabilities. That which is good, or true,
or beautiful, to one mind can hardly be the same in the same way and
degree to any other mind. It is true--as some writers have stated, but
none seems willing to push the propositions to their legitimate
conclusions--that the Good and the Beautiful are true, the Beautiful
and the True are good, and the True and the Good are beautiful. We
wish to accept the propositions in their most comprehensive scope and
with all their legitimate consequences.
Let us note, at this point, the fact, obvious enough but generally
overlooked, that in perception the result depends far more upon the
percipient mind than upon the object perceived. To a ploughboy, a
pebble is an insignificant thing, suggestive possibly of some
discomfort in walking, and fit only to shy at a bird, may be; but to
the geologist it appears worthy a volume, and speaks to him of strata
may be a million of years old, of glacial attrition, of volcanic
action, of chemical constituents, of mineralogical principles, and
crystallogenic attraction, of mathematical laws and geometric angles,
and of future geognostic changes. That is to say, the pebble contracts
and expands, as it were, with the faculties and the prejudices of the
person--of the mind--that sees it.
Or, again: The crescent moon is visible in the clear sky. _A_ sees a
bright convenience which enables him to walk better--not so good a
light as the full moon would be, but valuable as far as it goes. _B_
sees a lovely luminary to light him to his lady-love, a hallowed eye
half shut that watches with protecting radiance over her slumbers. _C_
reckons the intervening 238,000 miles, its diameter of 2,162.3 miles,
and his mind busies itself with orbits, radii, ellipses, eclipses,
azimuth, parallax, sidereal periods, satellitic inclinations, and
synodic revolutions. _D_, with a turn for symbols and history, sees in
it something of the "ornaments like the moon" that Gideon captured
from the Sheikhs Zebah and Zalmunna, something of Byzantine siege,
Ottoman ensign, the Crusades, the Knighthood of Selim, the battle of
Tours, and the city of New Orleans. . . . . . . . .
The Beautiful . . . . is a relation between the man that sees and the
object seen. A perfectly harmonious relation brings perfect beauty.
The Poetical . . . . is the beautiful; and this may be expressed
either in prose or in poetry. . . . . . . . . .
Poetry, more closely defined, is the poetical expressed in rhythmical
language.
FOOTNOTE:
[33] By permission of the author.
CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR.
~1831=1893.~
CHARLES COLCOCK JONES, JR., was born at Savannah, Georgia, and made
his literary fame by special study of the history of Georgia and the
life of the Southern Indians. He was by profession a lawyer, was
colonel of artillery in the Confederate Army, and from 1865 to 1877
lived and practised law in New York City. Since 1877 his home was
"Montrose" near Augusta, Georgia, where he left a fine library and
large collections of Indian curiosities and of portraits and
autographs. His style is full and flowing, and the following list
shows his great activity with his pen.
WORKS.
Indian Remains in Southern Georgia.
Ancient Tumuli and Structures in Georgia.
Dead Towns of Georgia.
Last Days of Gen. Henry Lee.
Life, Labors, and Neglected Grave of Richard Henry Wilde.
Negro Myths from the Georgia Coast.
Histories of Savannah and Augusta.
English Colonization of Georgia.
_Edited_ his father's works.
History of Georgia.
Sketch of Tomo-chi-chi.
Antiquities of the Southern Indians.
Life of Jasper: of Tatnall: of De Soto: of Purry: of Jenkins: of
Habersham: of Gen. Robert Toombs: of Elbert: of John Percival.
Addresses to Confederate Association, and Historical Society, and
on Greene, Pulaski, Stephens.
Colonel Jones is the most prolific author that Georgia has produced
and his works place him at the head of her historical writers.
SALZBURGER SETTLEMENT IN GEORGIA.
(_From History of Georgia._[34])
During the four years commencing in 1729 and ending in 1732, more than
thirty thousand Salzburgers, impelled by the fierce persecutions of
Leopold, abandoned their homes in the broad valley of the Salza, and
sought refuge in Prussia, Holland, and England, where their past
sufferings and present wants enlisted the profound sympathy of
Protestant communities. In the public indignation engendered by their
unjustifiable and inhuman treatment, and in the general desire to
alleviate their sufferings, Oglethorpe and the trustees fully shared.
An asylum in Georgia was offered.
. . . . . . .
Forty-two men with their families, numbering in all seventy-eight
souls, set out on foot for Rotterdam. They came from the town of
Berchtolsgaden and its vicinity. . . . On the 2d of December they
embarked for England. On the 8th of January, 1734 (O. S.), having a
favorable wind, they departed in the ship _Purisburg_ for Savannah.
. . . . . . .
. . . Upon the return of Mr. Oglethorpe and the commissary, Baron Von
Reck, [sent to examine the site of the new colony] to Savannah, nine
able-bodied Salzburgers were dispatched, by the way of Abercorn, to
Ebenezer, to cut down trees and erect shelters for the new colonists.
On the 7th of April the rest of the emigrants arrived, and, with the
blessing of the good Mr. Bolzius, entered at once upon the task of
clearing land, constructing bridges, building shanties, and preparing
a road-way to Abercorn. Wild honey found in a hollow tree greatly
refreshed them, and parrots and partridges made them "a very good
dish." Upon the sandy soil they fixed their hopes for a generous yield
of peas and potatoes. To the "black, fat, and heavy" land they looked
for all sorts of corn. From the clayey soil they purposed
manufacturing bricks and earthenware.
On the first of May lots were drawn upon which houses were to be
erected in the town of Ebenezer. The day following, the hearts of the
people were rejoiced by the coming of ten cows and calves,--sent as a
present from the magistrates of Savannah in obedience to Mr.
Oglethorpe's orders. Ten casks "full of all Sorts of Seeds" arriving
from Savannah set these pious people to praising God for all his
loving kindnesses. Commiserating their poverty, the Indians gave them
deer, and their English neighbors taught them how to brew a sort of
beer made of molasses, sassafras, and pine tops. Poor Lackner dying,
by common consent the little money he left was made the "Beginning of
a Box for the Poor." . . . . . . . . By appointment, Monday, the 13th
of May, was observed by the congregation as a season of
thanksgiving. . . . .
Of the town of Savannah, the Baron Von Reck favors us with the
following impressions: "I went to view this rising Town, _Savannah_,
seated upon the Banks of a River of the same Name. The Town is
regularly laid out, divided into four Wards, in each of which is left
a spacious Square for holding of Markets and other publick Uses. The
Streets are all straight, and the Houses are all of the same Model and
Dimensions, and well contrived for Conveniency. For the Time it has
been built it is very populous, and its Inhabitants are all White
People. And indeed the Blessing of God seems to have gone along with
this Undertaking, for here we see Industry honored and Justice
strictly executed, and Luxury and Idleness banished from this happy
Place where Plenty and Brotherly Love seem to make their Abode, and
where the good Order of a Nightly Watch restrains the Disorderly and
makes the Inhabitants sleep secure in the midst of a Wilderness.
"There is laid out near the Town, by order of the Trustees, a Garden
for making Experiments for the Improving Botany and Agriculture; it
contains 10 Acres and lies upon the River; and it is cleared and
brought into such Order that there is already a fine Nursery of
Oranges, Olives, white Mulberries, Figs, Peaches, and many curious
Herbs: besides which there are Cabbages, Peas, and other European
Pulse and Plants which all thrive. Within the Garden there is an
artificial Hill, said by the Indians to be raised over the Body of one
of their ancient Emperors.
"I had like to have forgot one of the best Regulations made by the
Trustees for the Government of the Town of _Savannah_. I mean the
utter Prohibition of the Use of Rum, that flattering but deceitful
Liquor which has been found equally pernicious to the Natives and new
Comers, which seldoms fails by Sickness or Death to draw after it its
own Punishment."
FOOTNOTE:
[34] By permission of Mr. Charles Edgeworth Jones.
MARY VIRGINIA TERHUNE.
~ca. 1831=----.~
[Illustration: ~Mary Washington Monument, Fredericksburg, Va.~]
MRS. TERHUNE, better known as "Marion Harland," was born in Amelia
County, Virginia, where her father, Samuel P. Hawes, a merchant from
Massachusetts, had made his home. She began writing at the early age of
fourteen. In 1856, she was married to Rev. E. P. Terhune and since 1859
has lived in the North. Her novels, dealing chiefly with Southern life,
are very popular and have made her well known North and South. "The
Story of Mary Washington" was written in order to aid the enterprise for
a monument to the mother of Washington, which was happily consummated
May 10, 1894, by its unveiling at Fredericksburg, on which occasion
Mrs. Terhune was present, an honored guest.
WORKS.
Alone.
Moss Side.
Nemesis.
Husbands and Homes.
Helen Gardner's Wedding-Day.
Ruby's Husband.
At Last.
Empty Heart.
Judith, a Chronicle of Old Virginia.
Hidden Path.
Miriam.
Husks.
Sunnybank.
Christmas Holly.
Phemie's Temptation.
Common Sense in the Household.
Eve's Daughters.
A Gallant Fight.
Story of Mary Washington.
LETTER DESCRIBING MARY [BALL] WASHINGTON WHEN A YOUNG GIRL.
(_From Story of Mary Washington._[35])
"WMSBURG, _ye 7th of Octr, 1722_.
"_Dear Sukey_, Madam Ball of Lancaster and Her Sweet Molly have gone
Hom. Mamma thinks Molly the Comliest Maiden She Knows. She is about 16
yrs old, is taller than Me, is very Sensable, Modest and Loving. Her
Hair is like unto Flax, Her Eyes are the color of Yours, and her
Chekes are like May blossoms. I wish you could see her."
We do seem to see her in lingering over the portrait done in miniature
in colors that are fresh to this day. It is, as if in exploring a
catacomb, we had happened upon a fair chamber adorned with a frescoed
portrait of a girl-princess of a legendary age. Romancist and
biographer are one as we study the picture line by line. The brush was
dipped in the limner's heart and wrought passing well.
MADAM WASHINGTON AT THE PEACE BALL.
(_From the Same._)
Her only public appearance as the hero's mother was at the Peace Ball
given in Fredericksburg during the visit of Washington to that town.
With all her majestic self-command, she did not disguise the pleasure
with which she received the special request of the managers that she
would honor the occasion with her presence. There was even a happy
flutter in the playful rejoinder that "her dancing days were pretty
well over, but that if her coming would contribute to the general
pleasure she would attend."
. . . A path was opened from the foot to the top of the hall as they
appeared in the doorway, and "every head was bowed in reverence." It
must have been the proudest moment of her life, but she bore herself
with perfect composure then, and after her son, seating her in an
armchair upon the daïs reserved for distinguished guests, faced the
crowd in prideful expectancy that all his friends would seek to know
his mother. She had entered the hall at eight o'clock, and for two
hours held court, the most distinguished people there pressing eagerly
forward to be presented to her. . . . From her slightly elevated
position, she could, without rising, overlook the floor, and watched
with quiet pleasure the dancers, among them the kingly figure of the
Commander-in-Chief, who led a Fredericksburg matron through a minuet.
At ten o'clock, she signed to him to approach, and rose to take his
arm, saying in her clear soft voice, "Come, George, it is time for old
folks to be at home." Smiling a good-night to all, she walked down the
room, as erect in form and as steady in gait as any dancer there.
One of the French officers exclaimed aloud, as she disappeared:
"If such are the matrons of America, she may well boast of illustrious
sons!" . . . . .
Lafayette's report of his interview to his friends at Mt. Vernon was:
"I have seen the only Roman matron living at this day!"
FOOTNOTE:
[35] By permission of author and publishers, Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
Boston.
AUGUSTA EVANS WILSON.
~1835=----.~
MRS. WILSON was born at Columbus, Georgia, but early removed to
Mobile, Alabama. Her first novel was "Inez: a Tale of the Alamo,"
published in 1855. She was married to Mr. L. M. Wilson of Mobile in
1868, and they had a delightful suburban home at Spring Hill. Since
Mr. Wilson's death, she resides in Mobile. Her novels, especially "St.
Elmo," have made a great sensation in the reading world: they evince
great ability and learning. See Miss Rutherford's "American Authors."
WORKS.
Inez: a Tale of the Alamo.
Macaria.
Vashti.
At the Mercy of Tiberius.
Beulah.
St. Elmo.
Infelice.
"_St. Elmo_ contains a description of that marvel of oriental
architecture, the Taj Mahal at Agra in India,--a marble tomb erected
to perpetuate the name of Noormahal, whom Tom Moore has immortalized
in his 'Lalla Rookh.' A recent traveller visiting Agra in 1891 writes
that he was surprised to find a Parsee boy almost in the shadow of the
Taj Mahal reading a copy of the London edition of Mrs. Wilson's
_Vashti_. . . . Her style has been severely criticised as pedantic,
but certainly this charge may with equal justice be brought against
George Meredith, Bulwer, and George Eliot, and it is well established
that Mrs. Wilson's books have in many instances stimulated her young
readers to study history, mythology, and the sciences, from which she
so frequently draws her illustrations."--Miss Rutherford.
A LEARNED AND INTERESTING CONVERSATION.
(_From St. Elmo._[36])
Edna had risen to leave the room when the master of the house entered,
but at his request resumed her seat and continued reading.
After searching the shelves unavailingly, he glanced over his shoulder
and asked:
"Have you seen my copy of De Guérin's Centaur anywhere about the
house? I had it a week ago."
"I beg your pardon, sir, for causing such a fruitless search; here is
the book. I picked it up on the front steps where you were reading a
few evenings since, and it opened at a passage that attracted my
attention."
She closed the volume and held it toward him, but he waved it back.
"Keep it if it interests you. I have read it once, and merely wished
to refer to a particular passage. Can you guess what sentence most
frequently recurs to me? If so, read it to me."
He drew a chair close to the hearth and lighted his cigar.
Hesitatingly Edna turned the leaves.
"I am afraid, sir, that my selection will displease you."
"I will risk it, as, notwithstanding your flattering opinion to the
contrary, I am not altogether so unreasonable as to take offense at a
compliance with my own request."
Still she shrank from the task he imposed, and her fingers toyed with
the scarlet fuchsias; but after eyeing her for a while, he leaned
forward and pushed the glass bowl beyond her reach.
"Edna, I am waiting."
"Well, then, Mr. Murray, I should think that these two passages would
impress you with peculiar force."
Raising the book, she read with much emphasis:
"'Thou pursuest after wisdom, O Melampus! which is the science of the
will of the gods; _and thou roamest from people to people, like a
mortal driven by the destinies_. In the times when I kept my
night-watches before the caverns, I have sometimes believed that I was
about to surprise the thoughts of the sleeping Cybele, and that the
mother of the gods, betrayed by her dreams, would let fall some of her
secrets. But I have never yet made out more than sounds which faded
away in the murmur of night, or words inarticulate as the bubbling of
the rivers.' . . . 'Seekest thou to know the gods, O Macareus! and
from what source, men, animals, and elements of the universal fire
have their origin? The aged ocean, the father of all things, keeps
locked within his own breast these secrets; and the nymphs who stand
around sing as they weave their eternal dance before him, to cover any
sound which might escape from his lips, half opened by slumber.
Mortals dear to the gods for their virtue have received from their
hands lyres to give delight to man, or the seeds of new plants to make
him rich, but from their inexorable lips--nothing!'
"Mr. Murray, am I correct in my conjecture?"
"Quite correct," he answered, smiling grimly.
Taking the book from her hand he threw it on the table, and tossed his
cigar into the grate, adding in a defiant, challenging tone:
"The mantle of Solomon did not fall at Le Cayla on the shoulders of
Maurice de Guérin. After all he was a wretched hypochondriac, and a
tinge of _le cahier vert_ doubtless crept into his eyes."
"Do you forget, sir, that he said, 'When one is a wanderer, one feels
that one fulfils the true condition of humanity?' and that among his
last words are these, 'The stream of travel is full of delight. Oh!
who will set me adrift on this Nile?'"
"Pardon me if I remind you, _par parenthèse_, of the preliminary and
courteous _En garde!_ which should be pronounced before a thrust. De
Guérin felt starved in Languedoc, and no wonder! But had he penetrated
every nook and cranny of the habitable globe, and traversed the vast
zaarahs which science accords the universe, he would have died at last
as hungry as Ugolino. I speak advisedly; for the true Io gad-fly,
_ennui_, has stung me from hemisphere to hemisphere, across
tempestuous oceans, scorching deserts, and icy mountain ranges. I have
faced alike the bourrans of the steppes, and the Samieli of Shamo, and
the result of my vandal life is best epitomized in those grand but
grim words of Bossuet: '_On trouve au fond du tout le vide et le
néant!_' Nineteen years ago, to satisfy my hunger, I set out to hunt
the daintiest food this world could furnish, and, like other fools,
have learned finally, that life is but a huge mellow golden Ösher,
that mockingly sifts its bitter dust upon our eager lips. Ah! truly,
_on trouve au fond du tout le vide et le néant_!"
"Mr. Murray, if you insist upon your bitter Ösher simile, why shut
your eyes to the palpable analogy suggested? Naturalists assert that
the Solanum, or apple of Sodom, contains in its normal state neither
dust nor ashes; unless it is punctured by an insect, (the Tenthredo),
which converts the whole of the inside into dust, leaving nothing but
the rind entire, without any loss of color. Human life is as fair and
tempting as the fruit of 'Ain Jidy,' till stung and poisoned by the
Tenthredo of sin."
All conceivable _suaviter in modo_ characterized his mocking
countenance and tone, as he inclined his haughty head and asked:
"Will you favor me by lifting on the point of your dissecting knife
this stinging sin of mine to which you refer? The noxious brood swarm
so teasingly about my ears that they deprive me of your cool, clear,
philosophic discrimination. Which particular Tenthredo of the buzzing
swarm around my spoiled apple of life would you advise me to select
for my _anathema maranatha_?"
"Of your history, sir, I am entirely ignorant; and even if I were not,
I should not presume to levy a tax upon it in discussions with you;
for, however vulnerable you may possibly be, I regard an _argumentum
ad hominem_ as the weakest weapon in the armory of dialectics--a
weapon too often dipped in the venom of personal malevolence. I merely
gave expression to my belief that miserable useless lives are sinful
lives." . . .
FOOTNOTE:
[36] By permission of the author, and of the publisher, G. W.
Dillingham, N. Y.
DANIEL BEDINGER LUCAS.
~1836=----.~
DANIEL BEDINGER LUCAS is a native of Charlestown, West Virginia, and
has reputation as a lawyer, orator, and judge. He was a soldier in the
Confederate Army and wrote his fine and best known poem, "The Land
Where We Were Dreaming," in 1865. He has served in the State
Legislature. His sister was also a poet and her verses are included in
the "Wreath of Eglantine."
WORKS.
Memoir of John Yates Bell.
Maid of Northumberland.
Ballads and Madrigals.
Wreath of Eglantine, and other Poems.
THE LAND WHERE WE WERE DREAMING.
(_From The Land We Love._[37])
Fair were our nation's visions, and as grand
As ever floated out of fancy-land;
Children were we in simple faith,
But god like children, whom nor death
Nor threat of danger drove from honor's path--
In the land where we were dreaming.
Proud were our men as pride of birth could render,
As violets our women pure and tender;
And when they spoke, their voices' thrill
At evening hushed the whip poor-will,
At morn the mocking bird was mute and still,
In the land where we were dreaming.