are not called upon to forget that there is much that is inspiring and
delightful in the commencement of the year. The time-honored custom of our
metropolis has made it a point of peculiar radiance; a halcyon period,
when heart's-ease would seem to be the general feeling, and smiles the
social insignia. Then the visit is exchanged between friends whom perhaps
the departed year had somewhat alienated; old associations are revived,
and cordialities that had well nigh been forgotten are strengthened and
renewed. As the lip is wetted with friendly wine, the bosom expands in the
generous warmth of honest enjoyment; the cold formalities of factitious
station give place to undisguised welcome and open-handed cheer. The rich
and the poor meet together, and the spirit of pleasure is with all. As the
parties go their rounds, and familiar forms and faces appear to greeting
eyes, the _necessity_ of friendship and the desolation of its absence come
home to the mind. It is felt that comfort is lost when allied to
selfishness, and that it is good to be respected or beloved. And as those
meet between whom the year has passed in sullen estrangement; upon whose
anger many an evening sun has descended; a relenting spirit obeys the
mingled voices of Memory and Friendship: the kind resolve is made and
followed; so that instead of the thorn to goad and wound, there springs up
in the pathway of the Reconciled the olive or the myrtle. How sweet is the
sight of human goodness, struggling to surmount the petty passions which
discolor its beauty, and bending to the benign suggestions of that pure
and gentle principle, _peace with man_! Doubtless there are many severe
strivings with natural pride, before these ends can be reached; but the
new year awakens such throngs of conciliatory sentiments, that it is
impossible to resist them. The call is made; the oversight or neglect
explained; the breach is closed; and friendship is paramount! Months of
reverses and cares and disappointments are lost in that initial day, whose
span is golden from sun to sun; a lapse to be remembered with quiet
satisfaction in trials to come. Indeed, a moment's reflection will assure
any contemplative mind that resentment is the most pitiful passion that
can agitate the human breast. True, there is such a thing as '_spirit_,'
but how often is it ill-directed! How often magnified by little causes
into an importance wholly incommensurate with the object desired! It is
the province of new-year visits to crush these poisonous weeds of our
path, to quench their noxious tendrils, and to substitute in their stead
the balm of friendship and good-will. For such an object the morning of
the year is most auspicious. The grand festival of our SAVIOUR'S nativity
has but lately ended, and a preservation of the era of good feeling is
enjoined both by Precept and Hope. Who can resist such appeals to that
kindness which increases the happiness of its possessor? With these
reiterated words of counsel and of affection, let us take present leave of
our readers, by wishing them in hackneyed phrase, but with unhackneyed
spirit, a HAPPY NEW-YEAR!
THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN.--We wish it were possible to transfer to this printed
page the beautiful chirography of the annexed communication, which
proceeds from the pen of a lady who, with a few others of her gentle sex,
sat out the reading of the lecture upon the '_Rights of Women_,' by Mr.
JOHN NEAL, at the Broadway Tabernacle last winter, and which was so
heartily laughed at by the press and the town for a day or two after. It
is gratifying to remark that _women_ themselves have been the prominent
satirists of the characteristic absurdities put forth on the occasion
alluded to. But to our fair correspondent: 'APPEAR, bright Spirits of the
ancient Nine! (for you were women, and can well appreciate my appeal)
arrayed in all the panoply of your charms! Thou, MINERVA! aid me with thy
wisdom! Ye, most lovely GRACES! attend me with the power of honey-like
persuasiveness! And thou, JOHN NEAL! arrayed in the drapery of the softer
sex, gracefully to maintain the lofty eminence whereon thou standest,
assist me with the glorious power of thy overwhelming eloquence, while I
assert the high prerogative of Woman! Yet when I dwell on the brilliant
efforts accomplished by thy mighty genius in our behalf, the pen falls
powerless from my despairing hand, and I can merely point to thee as the
potent champion of our down-trodden rights! Instead of dwelling in dull
obscurity, victims to the caprice of men; mending their thread-bare
clothing and scolding servants--base, unwomanly pursuits!--instead of
listening in silence to the storms of political debate; instead of
remaining within the shadow of our own roofs, and gathering around the
domestic hearth the thornless roses of existence; rendering home a haven
of rest to the weary and care-worn; instead of slumbering idly, in the
security of our mansions, when the torrent of war rolls over the land;
instead of girding then our brothers for the stormy fight, bidding them
GOD-speed; instead of ignobly bending before the tyrannical power of Man,
thou, O! astute NEAL! wouldst have us pluck the laurel-wreath from our
kinsman's brow, and bind it on our own. Thou wouldst have us rise in all
the dignity of offended 'equality,' and boldly assert the holy right of
'_free suffrage to all_!' Why, forsooth, should _we_ rather be confined to
the narrow circle of home than our friends of the other sex? Are we not as
capable of sounding the loud alarm of war, of mingling in the strife and
tumult of the battle-hour, as the ladies of antique Amazonia, or the
warrior-_men_ of our own day? Have we not intellect enough to cope with
the WEBSTERS, the CLAYS, and the WRIGHTS, in the halls of Congress? Is not
our dignity sufficient to maintain, with honor to our country and
ourselves, the various offices of the government? Why may not our superior
talents elevate us to the lofty station of the presidential chair?--to
become Ambassadresses, Generalesses, Stateswomen? Surely our intellect is
as lofty, as noble, and as clear as that in which proud man exults. Arise
then, Women of America! Study immediately the tactics of military
discipline; proceed to the green savannahs of Florida; wrest their
authority from those who now possess it, and deck your own brows of
loveliness with the wreaths of conquest and of glory. March to the halls
of legislation; demand from statesmen there assembled the concession of
'woman's rights,' and desert them not till that 'vantage ground' is well
secured. Then, ladies, will you be enabled to cast aside with disdain the
bonds of domestic confinement, which insure merely your peace and
happiness; to mingle your shrill cries with the tumult of contending
armies, confounding confusion itself with your loud clamors! You may then
unite your voices with the shouts of opposing factions at the momentous
periods of election, huzzaing for your candidates, and gathering all your
influence to win success for them. So shall you nobly fulfil the high
destiny allotted you, instead of longer enduring the degrading cares
attendant on the happiness of your fathers' and your husbands' homes. So
shall you take by storm the hearts of men as well as the citadels of your
enemies; forcing them to admire those female 'braves' who so kindly
relieve them of the weighty burden of their cares.' Capital! This
mock-heroic is just the vein for a theme so ridiculous as the insane
crudities here touched upon. By the by; a private note advises us that
'there have been recent symptoms of chuckling exhibited by the 'champion
of women,' on the supposition, real or assumed, that the attention of the
legislatures of several States had been diverted toward 'woman's rights'
in the matter of personal property between man and wife, by reason of the
lecture aforesaid!' It is unnecessary perhaps to add, in justice to the
public sense, that the action of three or four States upon this subject
had a far different origin, as their legislative records will abundantly
show.
OLE BULL.--We confess ourselves among the uninitiated in the mysteries of
music. We are quite aware that it is not a little dangerous for one who
would not lose _caste_ in society to assert that he does not greatly
admire that ill-assorted compound of '_strains_' which is usually
designated by the hackneyed phrases of 'brilliant execution' and
'difficult passages;' passages which Dr. JOHNSON wished were 'not only
_difficult_ but _impossible_:' we cannot force an admiration nor affect an
enthusiasm which we do not feel. Indeed, we have always had great sympathy
for the amateur of fashion who aspired to great refinement of taste, to
exhibit which, in one branch of art, he gave on one occasion an
entertainment of instrumental music. While the musicians were _all_ at
work, he seemed delighted with the performance; but when one instrument
chanced to be engaged upon a solo, he inquired, in a towering passion, why
the others were remaining idle? 'It is a _pizzicato_ for one instrument,'
replied the operator. 'I can't help that,' replied the virtuoso; 'let the
trumpets _pizzicato_ along with you; they're _paid_ to do it!' Now in
regard to musical knowledge and taste, this hopeful amateur has many a
counterpart in this day and generation, and in this same city of Gotham.
In the case of OLE BULL, however, there has been no call for _affected_
admiration. He has _compelled_ not only admiration but enthusiasm; not
indeed by mere artistical 'execution,' although in this he is acknowledged
to be preëminent, but by the creations of _genius_, which 'take the full
heart captive.' Let the distant reader imagine an audience of three
thousand persons awaiting in breathless expectance the entrance upon the
Park-stage of this great Master. The curtain rises, and after the lapse of
a moment, a tall manly person, with a frank, ingenuous expression of
countenance, emerges with an embarrassed salutation from the wing, and
with another somewhat less constrained, stands in front of the orchestra,
the focus of every eye and glass in that brilliant assemblage. Pausing for
a brief space, as if to collect himself, he raises his bow, and with a
slight motion, beckons to each member of the orchestra in turn, who 'start
into sound' at his bidding as if touched by the wand of ITHURIEL. When the
tide of harmony has reached its flood, and is gradually ebbing back to
fainter sounds, the Master raises his instrument to his shoulder and lays
his ear upon it, as if listening for his key-note amidst the tones that
are serpentining through his brain. When to the audience 'nothing lives
'twixt these and silence,' a strain which has at first a dying fall
imperceptibly swells on the ear. It is _the_ instrument, beyond all
peradventure; and from that moment you are 'all ear.' While you are
wondering why you never knew before that there was such a _volume_ of
sound in a violin, a passage of infinite pathos arrests your _heart_, and
you find your eyes moistening under its influence. It subsides into
tremulous tones that retreat farther and farther from the ear, until they
seem to come from a mile's distance; anon, they begin to approach again,
and swelling gradually upon the 'aching sense,' almost overpower you with
their fulness of melody. This transcendent effort of genius reminded us of
the phantasmagora, or 'magic lantern;' for what the lessening and
enlarging figures of that instrument are to the _eye_, OLE BULL'S magic
sounds are to the _ear_. We had intended to allude in detail to several of
the performances of this great Master; but we lack the requisite space. We
can only instance the 'Norwegian Rondo,' the 'Themes from BELLINI,' and
the 'Carnival at Venice,' as eminently justifying the fervent enthusiasm
which they excited. It was no unnatural combination of splendid
sinuosities, of small notes split into hexagonals, and attenuated into
tremors that were 'no great _shakes_' after all, which entranced the
audience; it was full, rich tones; it was melody, harmony, that won their
loud and almost irrepressible applause. We have not yet had the pleasure
to hear VIEUX-TEMPS, the distinguished violinist recently arrived among
us. His numerous friends and countrymen in the metropolis rank him even
above OLE BULL. We are inclined, however, to trust the comparison made by
an eminent brother-artist, who assisted at his first concert:
'VIEUX-TEMPS,' said he, 'is a very accomplished _artist_; but OLE BULL is
a magnificent _genius_.' We shall have something to say of VIEUX-TEMPS,
ARTOT, and Sig. CASSELA, in a subsequent number of the KNICKERBOCKER,
should time and occasion serve.
A SECOND 'RALPH RINGWOOD.'--We have a western correspondent, a 'man of
mark' in his region, and far from unknown elsewhere, who has seen a good
deal of the world, and whose entertaining epistles always remind us of the
graphic '_Experiences of Ralph Ringwood_,' as recorded in these pages by
WASHINGTON IRVING. Here is a fragment of youthful reminiscence, fresh from
his mint, 'which it is hoped may please;' and if it _does_, we will use
our 'selectest influence' to induce him to write out for us a series of
papers containing his complete autobiography, which we have good reason to
believe would overflow with romance and strange vicissitude: 'I was
raised,' he writes, 'as we western folks term it, in a small village some
fifteen miles from Boston, and when about sixteen years of age I paid a
visit to the metropolis for the first time in my life. When I first
arrived there I spent some hours in trying to hunt up an old play-mate who
had been bound apprentice to a Boston mechanic some two years previous. I
could hear nothing of him, however, and so gave up the search. But one
day, while sauntering down the main-street, and wondering at all I saw, I
suddenly encountered a strange sight. It was _a sheep_, dead and dressed,
but moving along the side-walk in an upright position, and apparently
without help! Puzzled at this phenomenon, I turned round as it passed me,
in order to observe it more closely; when to my astonishment I discovered
a boy behind it, who with the sheep on his back was shuffling along the
walk, stern-foremost. I was still more astonished when I recognized in
this lad my old and long-sought playmate. 'DICK, my boy!' said I, grasping
his hand warmly. DICK seemed a little embarrassed at first; but after a
moment's hesitation, he threw down his load spitefully, and seizing my
hand returned my grasp as cordially as it had been given. 'For GOD's sake,
DICK,' inquired I, 'how long is it since you commenced walking backward?'
'Not a great while,' replied he, with a grin. 'To tell you the truth,
FRANK, I saw you looking in the jeweller's window there, and knew you at
once; and as I didn't care to be seen by an old comrade with a sheep on my
back, I was in hopes to escape your observation by walking in the manner
in which you saw me.' 'And that was the very thing which led me to
discover you,' I replied; 'you might have passed me in the ordinary way,
nineteen times in every twenty, without being recognized.' 'Well, it's all
one now, since you have found me out,' said DICK. 'But what, after all,
are you going to do with that measly-looking animal?' I inquired. 'Eat
it,' replied he, with a comical twist of the nose; 'I have to lug one home
every day; we apprentices live on them altogether. I'm a sheep myself,
almost; _b-a-a-h_!' and here he imitated the cry of that animal so
naturally, that I had no doubt of the truth of his statement. After a few
moments' conversation, chiefly about home, the clock struck ten, when DICK
suddenly resumed his load, and after giving me the directions to the 'old
man's' house, and exacting a promise to call and see him in the evening,
he started for home. At the appointed hour in the evening, I called to see
him, as agreed upon, and found him waiting for me. But what a
different-looking personage from the one I met in the morning! He was now
very smartly dressed in a small black frock-coat, and drab gaiter-trowsers
strapped tightly over a pair of nicely-polished boots. On his head a black
velvet cap, from which two enormous tassels were swinging, was setting
jauntily on one side, while in his hand he carried a little silver-headed
cane, with which he occasionally rapped his legs. In my unsophisticated
eyes he was a very paragon of gentility, and I couldn't help contrasting
him with my own countrified appearance. However, I had but a moment for
reflection; for sallying into the street, with me at his heels, DICK at
once proposed going to the theatre. I agreed without hesitation, for the
big play-bills had been staring me in the face all day, and on them were
emblazoned in large capitals the names of COOPER and FINN, who were to
play together that evening in one of SHAKSPEARE'S comedies. When we
arrived at the play-house, DICK took me aside, and pointing to the little
window in the office, proposed that I should go and purchase the tickets;
'because,' said he, 'the box-keeper knows me.' I couldn't exactly
comprehend why the fact of his being known to the box-keeper should
prevent his purchasing the tickets himself. However, I supposed it was all
right, and so I crowded up to the little window, and after awaiting my
turn, obtained two pit-tickets, for which I had to pay out of my own
pocket, of course. Dick took them from me when I returned, and then again
resuming the lead, he conducted me into the lobby of the play-house. Here
he handed the tickets to the door-keeper, at the same time nodding his
head toward me, in order to intimate to that gentleman that I was under
his special patronage, and that the other admission was intended for me.
Once seated in the centre of the pit, DICK seemed to be in his glory. He
ogled the ladies in the boxes, and whistled and shouted and stamped, and
cried 'Physic!' until I thought he would split his throat. But when at
last the gloomy curtain rose and the stars of the evening stood glittering
before us, he clapped and shouted so much louder and longer than all the
rest, that the whole audience gazed at him with admiration. He would have
gone on applauding, I verily believe, until the end of the play, had not a
tall gentleman, with a red handkerchief round his throat, and carrying a
long pole, rapped him over the head, and peremptorily shouted 'Silence!'
From that moment DICK was as mute as a Quaker, until the end of the play;
when rushing out and dragging me after him, he proposed that we should go
and finish the evening at a celebrated coffee-house, kept by 'a particular
friend of his,' and where he had agreed to meet some half-dozen
fellow-apprentices. Here we stayed until a very late hour, drinking and
smoking, telling stories and singing songs. As it grew later, our
companions one by one walked or reeled out of the bar-room, until we two
were left the only tenants, save the landlord. The latter then commenced
closing the house, and hinted pretty strongly that it was high time we
were going. I turned to DICK, who had been remarkably silent for some
time, when to my utter dismay I discovered that he was perfectly
insensible from drink. I looked up to the landlord for counsel. He was a
short, _squab_ man, with a bulbous excresence growing out from between his
shoulders, that I suppose passed for a head, though it looked like a wen;
a kind of expletive, to wear a hat on, or to fill up the hollow of a
shabby wig. 'What shall we _do_ with him?' said I. 'Hustle him out!' cried
he; 'hustle him out! he didn't get his liquor here: I've no room for such
company!' I then endeavored to put my companion upon his feet, but his
legs bent under him, and his whole body seemed as limber and lifeless as a
wet rag. 'You can't do any thing with him in _that_ way,' continued the
landlord; 'if you want to get him home to-night, you must take him on your
back and carry him there yourself. He'll be bright enough in the morning.'
I saw no other way of proceeding; and so, being strong and athletic
myself, while DICK was of slight proportions, I managed, with the
assistance of the landlord, to get him upon my back, and then started for
his master's house. As my burthen was perfectly speechless, I had plenty
of time for uninterrupted thought as I trudged along; and I couldn't help
contrasting the apprentice of the morning with the apprentice of the
present moment. _Then_, though rather coarsely dressed, and smooched with
the marks of labor, he blushed at being caught with a sheep on his back,
though he had come honestly by it; but _now_, though bedecked in the
habiliments of a gentleman, he was being carried home himself like a beast
on the back of a companion. On reaching his master's house I laid him down
upon the door-sill, where he commenced breathing intensely through his
nose, while I fumbled round for the handle of the bell, which I rang. The
'old man' himself came to the door, and looking down at his apprentice,
shook his head sorrowfully. Then turning to a black domestic, who with a
candle in her hand stood grinning behind him, he said, 'Here's DICK come
home drunk again, Dinah; you must take him up stairs and get him to bed in
the best way you can.' The old gentleman turned away with a tear in his
eye, and I also departed, leaving DICK, who had come to his senses a
little, struggling in the arms of the brawny black, and vainly trying to
kiss her polished cheek. Thus ended my first youthful adventure in a
city.'
GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.--We encounter in our personal
correspondence not a few comments, pro and con, upon the papers on '_Mind
and Instinct_,' which appeared in the last two numbers of the
KNICKERBOCKER. Our friend and correspondent, 'HARRY FRANCO,' among others,
in a gossiping epistle to the Editor, writes as follows: