quivering leaves of the big tree near the house, glorifying a late
breakfast-table, around which the family were gathering, when horses
driven in hot haste were reined up at the door. Stepping quickly forth,
the major found his hand clasped by "our member," who begged the
hospitalities of the house for the great Daniel Webster and suite, just
at hand. Despite political differences, the desired welcome was heartily
accorded, and with crucified appetites the family retired to give place
to the unbidden guests, who filed into the room bandying compliments
with their gay host. A kingly head, grandly set above powerful
shoulders, easily marked the man in whom the interest of the hour
centred. Strangely quiet amid the noisy group, he moved alone, nor waked
responsive even to his host, until a brighter sally than usual provoked
a grim kind of laughter. Then he suddenly aroused himself to new life,
joining with a burst of humor in the pleasantries of the feast. The
unexpected brightness of the cosy room was not lost on Mr. Webster, who,
on entering, paused at the threshold and glanced around in an
appreciative manner, while a deep, restful sigh escaped his weary soul.
The dreary drive through the wilderness lent an added charm to the
little oasis of civilized comfort thus encountered in the lonely
backwoods of a Western quarter-section.
News of the distinguished arrival speedily flew among the laborers
running the mill and constructing dwellings for the in-rushing
population. Tom and Bill of the hammer, and Mike and Patsey of the
spade, alike forsook their tools in order to witness the exit of a hero
from the major's door. They even hoped to receive some expression of
wisdom in golden words from lips used to the flow of stirring thought
and burning eloquence. Lounging patiently under the trees, the expectant
men listened to the clink and clatter of serving and the bursts of
merriment within. At the conclusion of the breakfast and the subsequent
chat, Mr. Webster asked for his hostess, to whom with great courtesy he
expressed his sense of "the kindness extended to the stranger in a
strange land," and, adieus being over, he approached the open door-way,
and looked strangely annoyed at the sight of a double line of
white-sleeved stalwart men who stood with bared heads awaiting his
appearance. Then a great _mood_ fell upon the _man_, with
never a gentle soul at hand to charm it away. Not a feature stirred in
recognition of the, voluntary homage rendered by the throng of humble
men,--men controlling the ballots so ardently desired and sought. With
hat pressed firmly over an ominously lowering brow, looking straight
before him with cavernous, tired eyes which seemed to observe nothing
whereon they rested, Webster walked through the hushed lines in grave
stateliness. The crowd was only waiting for a spark of encouragement to
shout itself hoarse in enthusiastic huzzahs. Eyes shone with suppressed
excitement, and strong hearts swelled with pride in the towering man
whose fame had surged like a tidal wave over the land. Yet with insolent
deliberation he mounted the step and seated himself in the waiting
carriage, giving no sign of having even noticed the flattering
demonstration made in his honor. The smiles, nods, and hand-clasps
expected of the chief were lavishly dispensed by his mortified
satellites, all of which availed not to smother the curses, loud and
deep, splitting the summer air, as the wheels disappeared in the forest.
"Begorra, thin," bawled Patsey, "it's mesilf ut'll niver vote fur this
big Yankee 'ristocrat, _inne_how. Ef he wuz a foine Irish jintleman,
now, er even a r'yal prince av the blud, there'd be no sinse in his
airs, bedad!"
Tom and Bill were less noisy in their just wrath, but it ran equally
deep: "He belongs to the party. But when Daniel comes up for
office--look out! We'll score a hard day's work against him, party or no
party!"
The major rose to the occasion. Being a bit of a politician and an
old-school Democrat, he could not resist the opportunity presented. With
a humorous air he sprang to the nearest stump and improvised an electric
little speech which sent the men back to labor, _madder_ if not
wiser voters.
With other living witnesses of the events narrated, often wondering over
the strangeness of the scene of long ago, I am truly glad at the
eleventh hour to find the solution of the problem in _moods_,
rather than in a snobbish pride unbefitting the greatness of the man.
F.C.M.
Feuds and Lynch-Law in the Southwest.
A great deal has been said and written lately about feuds and lynch-law
in the districts around the lower Mississippi. The reports of recent
lynching there have probably been very much exaggerated; and it would
certainly be unfair to form a positive opinion about the matter without
a thorough knowledge of all the circumstances.
No one who visited that part of the country before the war could return
to it now without noticing the higher degree of order and the numerous
evidences of progress. But lynching law-breakers and resorting to the
knife or pistol to settle private disputes were once ordinary
occurrences there, and they were usually marked by a businesslike
coolness which gave them a distinctive character.
In the winter of 1853-54 I was clerk of a steamer owned in Wheeling. The
steamer was obliged to wait some time at Napoleon for a rise in the
Arkansas River to enable it to pass over the bar at the confluence of
that river with the Mississippi. Napoleon then had between three and
four hundred inhabitants, and was considered the worst place on the
Mississippi except Natchez-under-the-Hill. Some of the dwellings were of
considerable size, and, judging from their exterior, were kept in good
order. They were the residences of the few who belonged to the better
class, and who, to a certain extent, exercised control over their less
reputable townsmen.
We were treated very kindly by the citizens, and they declined any
return for their hospitality. We soon noticed that we were never invited
to visit any of them at their dwellings. At their places of business we
were cordially welcomed, and they seemed to take a great deal of
pleasure in giving us information and affording us any amusement in
their power.
Having some canned oysters among our stores, we twice invited a number
of our friends to an oyster-supper. Although our invitations included
their families, none but male guests attended. This, together with the
fact that we rarely saw any ladies on the street, seemed very strange to
us; but we made no comments, for we discovered very soon after our
arrival that it would not be prudent to ask questions about matters that
did not concern us. At church one Sunday night we noticed that all the
ladies present--composing nearly the whole of the congregation--were
dressed in black, and many of them were in deep mourning. This gave us
some idea as to the reason for their exclusiveness. Soon afterward a
murder occurred almost within my own sight. Two friends were standing on
the street and talking pleasantly to each other, when they were
approached by a man whom they did not know. Suddenly a second man came
close to the stranger, and, without saying a word, drew a pistol and
shot him dead. The murderer was instantly seized, bound, and placed in
the jail.
The jail was a square pen about thirty feet high, built of hewn logs,
without any opening except in the roof. This opening was only large
enough to admit one person at a time, and was protected by a heavy door.
The prisoner was forced by his captors to mount the roof by means of a
ladder, and then was lowered with a rope to the ground inside. The rope
was withdrawn, the door securely fastened, and he was caged, without any
possible means of escape, to await the verdict and sentence of the jury
summoned by "Judge Lynch."
The trial was very short. The facts were proven, and the verdict was
that the murderer should be severely whipped and made to leave the town
forthwith. The whipping was administered, and he left immediately
afterward.
Of course there was a good deal of excitement over this matter, and all
the male inhabitants collected to talk about it. The discussion extended
to some similar cases of recent occurrence and soon gave rise to angry
disputes. In a very short time pistols and knives were produced,
invitations to fight were given, and it seemed that blood would soon be
shed. By the interference, however, of some of the older and more
influential citizens, quiet was restored, and no one was injured. We
were afterward told that there was hardly a man in the crowd who had not
lost a father, brother, or near male relative by knife or pistol, either
in a supposed fair fight or by foul means.
At that time the hatred of negroes from "free States" was intense, while
those from "slave States" were treated kindly and regarded merely as
persons of an inferior race.
Some time before our arrival, a steamer belonging to Pittsburg had
stopped at Napoleon, and the colored steward went on shore to buy
provisions. While bargaining for them he became involved in a quarrel
with a white man and struck him. He was instantly seized, and would no
doubt have paid for his temerity with his life if some one in the crowd
had not exclaimed, "A live nigger's worth twenty dead ones! Let's sell
him!" This suggestion was adopted. In a very short time the unfortunate
steward was bound, mounted on a swift horse, and hurried away toward the
interior of the State. He was guarded by a party of mounted men, and in
less than a week's time he was working on a plantation as a slave for
life, with no prospect of communicating with his relatives or friends.
One morning the captain of the steamer and I saw a crowd collect, and on
approaching it we found a debate going on as to what should be done with
a large and well-dressed colored man, evidently under the influence of
liquor, who was seated on the ground with his arms and legs bound. He
had knocked one white man down and struck several others while they were
attempting to secure him. The crowd was undecided whether to give him a
good whipping for his offence or to send for his master (who lived on
the other side of the river, in Mississippi) and let him inflict the
punishment. Finally, the master was sent for. He soon appeared, and
stated that he had given his "_boy_" permission to come over to
Napoleon, and had also given him money to buy some things he wanted. He
was "a good boy," and had never been in trouble before, and if the
citizens of Napoleon would forgive him this time he, the master, would
guarantee that the boy should never visit Napoleon again. The master
also stated he would "stand drinks" for the whole crowd. This gave
general satisfaction. The drinks were taken, and the master and his
slave were enthusiastically escorted to their dug-out on the shore. Much
hand-shaking took place, in which the "boy" participated, and many
invitations were given to both to visit Napoleon again; after which they
rowed contentedly to their home.
J.A.M.
The Etymology of "Babe."
In the latest English etymological dictionary, that by the Rev. W.W.
Skeat, we read under the word _babe_, "Instead of _babe_ being
formed from the infantine sound _ba_, it has been modified from
_maqui_, probably by infantine influences. _Baby_ is a diminutive
form."
_Maqui_ is Early Welsh for _son_, and those to whom Mr.
Skeat's modified _maqui_ seems absurd will be pleased to find its
absurdity indicated, if not proved, by a Greek author of the sixth
century.
The following passage in the seventy-sixth section of Damascius's "Life
of Isidorus" has escaped the notice of English etymologists generally:
"Hermias had a son (the elder of his philosopher sons) by Ædesia, and
one day, when the child was seven months old, Ædesia was playing with
him, as mothers do, calling him _bábion_ and _paidíon_,
speaking in diminutives. But Hermias overheard her, and was vexed, and
censured these childish diminutives, pronouncing an articulate
reprimand.... Now the Syrians, and especially those who dwell in
Damascus, call newborn children, and even those that have passed the
period of childhood, _bábia_, from the goddess _Babía_, whom
they worship."
What is _bábion_ but the English _baby_, what _bábia_ but
the English _babies?_ We can hardly suppose that our English words
are derived from Syriac words in use fourteen centuries ago, or that the
latter were "modified from _maqui_" by "infantine" or other
influences. We are therefore driven to the conclusion that they were
alike "formed from the infantine sound _ba_," unless we accept
Damascius's derivation from _Babía_.
Unfortunately, we know no more concerning this goddess than did the
learned John Selden, who, writing two hundred and twenty-odd years ago,
"De Dis Syris," says, on page 296 of that work, "I cannot conjecture
whether _Babía,_ who seems to have been reverenced among the
Syrians as goddess of childhood and youth, is identical with the Syrian
Venus or not, and I do not remember to have met with any mention of this
deity except in Damascius's Life of Isidorus."
Selden's memory was not at fault: the words _bábion, bábia_, and
_Babía_ occur only in the passage above quoted.
In the absence of other evidence than Damascius's own, we may well
question whether he has not inverted the etymological relation between
the goddess and the babies. Most divinities owe their names to the
attributes or functions imputed to them by their worshippers. It seems,
therefore, more probable that the Syrian protectress of babies owes her
name to the _bábia_ than that they were called _bábia_ in her
honor. If, however, we accept Damascius's theory of their relation, what
forbids us to conjecture that the goddess's name was itself "formed from
the infantine sound _ba_"? In any case, the little domestic scene
between the priggish father and the dandling mother is amusing and
instructive to parents as well as to etymologists.
S.E.T.
LITERATURE OF THE DAY.
"The Russian Revolt: its Causes, Condition, and Prospects."
By Edmund Noble.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
The internal condition of Russia, though a matter of more than
speculative interest to its immediate neighbors, is not likely to become
what that of France has so often been,--a European question. The
institutions of other states will not be endangered by revolutionary
proceedings in the dominions of the Czar, nor will any oppression
exercised over his subjects be thought to justify foreign intervention.
Even Polish insurrections never led to any more active measures on the
part of the Western powers than delusive expressions of sympathy and
equally vain remonstrances. In these days, not Warsaw, but St.
Petersburg, is the centre of disaffection, and the ramifications extend
inland, their action stimulated, it may be, to some extent from external
sources, but incapable of sending back any impulse in return. Nihilism,
being based on the absence, real or supposed, of any political
institutions worth preserving in Russia, cannot spread to the
discontented populations of other countries. Even German socialism
cannot borrow weapons or resources from a nation which has no large
proletariat and whose industries are still in their infancy. In the
nature of its government, the character of its people, and the problems
it is called upon to solve, Russia stands, as she has always stood,
alone, neither furnishing examples to other nations nor able,
apparently, to copy those which other nations have set. The great
peculiarity of the revolutionary movement is not simply that it does not
proceed from the mass of the people,--which is a common case
enough,--but that it runs counter to their instincts and their needs and
rouses not their sympathy but their aversion. The peasants, who
constitute four-fifths of the population, have no motive for seeking to
overturn the government. Their material condition, since the abolition
of serfdom, is superior to that of the Italian peasantry, who enjoy the
fullest political rights. As members of the village communities, they
hold possession and will ultimately obtain absolute ownership of more
than half the soil of the country, excluding the domains of the state.
In the same capacity they exercise a degree of local autonomy greater
than that which is vested in the communes of France. They are separated
from the other classes by differences of education, of habits, and of
interests, while the autocracy that rules supreme over all is regarded
by them as the protecting power that is to redress their grievances and
fulfil all their aspirations. The discontent which has bred so many
conspiracies, and which aims at nothing less than the subversion of the
monarchy, is confined to a portion of the educated classes, and proceeds
from causes that affect only those classes. Among them alone is there
any perception of the wide and ever-increasing difference between the
Russian system of government and that of every other European country,
any craving for the exercise of political rights and the activity of
political life, any experience of the restrictions imposed on thought
and speech and the obstacles to the advancement and diffusion of
knowledge and ideas, any consciousness that the corrupt, vexatious, and
oppressive bureaucracy by which all affairs are administered is a direct
outgrowth of unlimited and irresponsible power. Nor are they united in
desiring to destroy, or even to modify, this system. Apart from those
who find in it the means of satisfying their personal interests and
ambitions, and the larger number in whom indolence and the love of ease
stifle all thought and aspiration, there are many who believe, with
reason, that the country is not ripe for the adoption of European
institutions, that the foundations on which to construct them do not yet
exist, and that any attempt to introduce them would lead only to
calamitous results; while there is even a large party which contends
that, far from needing them, Russia is happily situated in being exempt
from the struggles and the storms, the wars of classes and of factions,
that have attended the course of Western civilization, and in being left
free to work out her own development by original and more peaceful
methods. No doubt the great majority of thinking people feel the
necessity for some large measures of reform and look forward to the
establishment of a constitutional system and the gradual extension of
political freedom to the mass of the nation. But there is no evidence
that the revolutionary spirit has spread or excited sympathy in any such
degree as its audacity, its resoluteness, and the terror created by its
sinister achievements have seemed at times to indicate. The active
members of the propaganda are almost exclusively young persons, living
apart from their families, of scanty means and without conspicuous
ability. They belong to the lower ranks of the nobility, the rising
_bourgeois_ class, and, above all, that large body of necessitous
students, including many of the children of the ill-paid clergy, whom M.
Leroy-Beaulieu styles the "intellectual proletariat." Classical studies,
German metaphysics, and the scientific theories and discoveries of
recent years have had much to do with the fermentation that has led to
so many violent explosions, the universities have been the chief
_foci_ of agitation, and in the attempts to suppress it the
government has laid itself open to the reproach of making war upon
learning and seeking to stifle intellectual development.
Such is the view presented by recent French and English writers who have
made the condition of Russia a subject of minute investigation. Mr.
Noble deals more in generalizations than in details, and sets forth a
theory which it is difficult to reconcile with the facts and conclusions
derived from other sources. According to him, Russia is, and has been
from the first establishment of the imperial rule, in a state of chronic
revolt. This revolt is "the protest of eighty millions of people against
their continued employment as a barrier in the path of peaceful human
progress and national development." "It is not the educated classes
alone, but the masses,--peasant and artisan, land-owner and student,--of
whose aspirations, at least, it may be said, as it was said of the
earliest and freest Russians, '_Neminem ferant imperatorem_.'"
Before the rise of the empire "the Russians lived as freemen and happy."
They "enjoyed what, in a political sense, we are fairly entitled to
regard as the golden age of their national existence." The _veché_,
or popular assembly, "was from a picturesque point of view the grandest,
from an administrative point of view the simplest, and from a moral
point of view the most equitable form of government ever devised by
man." The autocracy, established by force, has encountered at all
periods a steady, if passive, opposition, as exemplified in the Raskol,
or separation of the "Old Believers" from the Orthodox Church, and in
the resistance offered to the innovations of Peter the Great: "in the
one as in the other case the popular revolt was against authority and
all that it represented." It is admitted that "among the peasants the
revolt must long remain in its passive stage.... Yet year by year,
partly owing to educational processes, partly owing to propaganda, even
the peasants are being won over to the growing battalions of
discontent." The autocracy is "doomed." "The forces that undermine it
are cumulative and relentless." Its "true policy is to spread its
dissolution--after the manner of certain financial operations--over a
number of years." "The method of the change is really not of importance.
The vital matter is that the reform shall at once concede and
practically apply the principle of popular self-government, granting at
the same time the fullest rights of free speech and public assembly."
Finally, "the Tsar and his advisers" are bidden to "beware," since "the
spectacle of this frightfully unequal struggle ... is not lost upon
Europe, or even upon America."