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THE
CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
DEVOTED TO
LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
* * * * *
VOL. IV.--SEPTEMBER, 1863.--NO. III.
* * * * *
SOUTHERN HATE OF NEW ENGLAND.
In these days of strange and startling events, of rapid and fundamental
changes, of curious and unexpected developments; these days, tremulous
with the vibrations of the political atmosphere, and quaking with the
fierce earthquake of national war; these days, that are filling up a web
of history with more fearful rapidity, more complete, important, and
decisive results than any previous epoch in the world's annals,--a
history which, if ever truly and worthily penned, will demand a deeper
search into moral causes and effects, a closer scrutiny of the
philosophy of mind, and a more careful balancing of political judgments,
than any drama ever before played on the great world's stage,--in such
days as these, I say, it is curious and profitable to subject each new
moral phase that presents itself to a rigid analysis, and trace every
effect, moral, political, governmental, or popular, to the cause or
causes that may, after a fair showing, appear to have produced it. A
fair and dispassionate application of true and just principles is as
essential to a right political judgment as to a correct moral decision,
and he who allows himself to be led by passion, selfishness, prejudice,
or a blind adoration of party, instead of the calm convictions of
educated reason and conscience, thereby dishonors himself, and abdicates
the right he possesses of acting for the best interests of himself and
all. Especially is this true under a democratic form of
government--where every citizen is a legislator, virtually,--where
opinion leads to political action, and is consequently responsible for
the course that action may take, and where each one helps to swell the
numbers of those great parties that in their plannings and
counterplannings make or mar the general good fortune. If this is true
of individual citizens, how much more is it true of those mighty engines
of the press and of party, that sweep such grand circles of influence,
and install, in grandeur or in gloom, such important national
conditions. That these are fruitful of evil as well as of good, every
great national struggle, every crisis in the affairs of nations and of
humanity, bears witness. Every national contest has seen the rise and
the fall of an anti-war party, and felt the influence of a press wielded
in the interest of that party. These have not, necessarily, always been
in the wrong. The contrary has been often true, though their fall, and
the opprobrium cast upon them have been none the less sure. It is only
when these have arisen during the progress of a war involving great
moral and humanitarian principles in its successful prosecution, that
the whole force of such an opposing influence is felt, the whole evil
apparent. No cause however just, no war however holy, no trust however
high and honorable, but has met the violence of this evil opposition,
and the danger of betrayal from this source. Not while men possess the
greed of power, place, and gold; not while reason is held in abeyance to
passion, is freedom safe without a guardian, or the liberties of mankind
able to abide without 'eternal vigilance.' Even our national war, the
grandest and holiest of time, both in its purposes and results, is only
the last most mournful illustration of this fact. When these
contemporaneous judgments, true or untrue, as they shall prove, now in
the heat of the time evolved in the thoughts of those who do think, and
becoming crystallized in the countless newspapers and periodicals which
deluge our land, and in the party records of the hour, come to be
thoroughly sifted, and the sure and impartial verdict made up to pass
into 'the golden urn of history,' without appeal thenceforth, great will
be the glory or the shame of the prominent actors in the drama now
enacting before the eyes of the world.
What is the spectacle that our astonished eyes behold? The Genius of
Liberty, standing on the threshold of her besieged temple, pale,
fettered, betrayed in the house of her very friends, but resolute and
dauntless as ever, her eye calm and steadfast, her hand firmly grasping
the Magna Charta of our birthright, and the birthright of all the race.
While a raging and vindictive foe bays her in front, and the leal and
true are pressing in countless hosts around her at her call, a false and
craven crew are basely creeping in at undefended passages, and, with
lies and slanders and deceitful tongues, endeavoring to undermine the
foundations of her strength. Base sappers and miners! Thank God ye are
few! And the number of the people ye are trying to hoodwink and seduce
from their allegiance is hourly growing less, as your cunningly devised
schemes explode. Do ye not know that the people of the Free States are
loyal to the core? That great principles are invincible as fate, say
rather, Providence? and that those who will not move in their onward
course must be overwhelmed beneath the wheels of their triumphal
chariot? Do ye not fear the award of posterity? Let the partisan press
of to-day, and those who inspirit and sustain it here at the North, who
are vainly and impotently trying to turn back the tide of human progress
by aiding and abetting the vilest rebellion against a good government
that has been seen since Satan, that arch rebel, chose 'rather to reign
in hell than serve in heaven,' shudder at the report the unerring tongue
of history will give them, even if they care nought for the good of
humanity as bound up in the well being of this land. I have called these
men _few_, for it _cannot be_ that the great and time-honored
organization of which I hope these men are but the calumniators,
boasting the grand old names of Jefferson and Jackson as founders, and
enrolling in its ranks so many thousands of the substantial yeomanry and
solid men of the country, will really prove false to its name and trust,
and be willing to descend into history in the robe of horror and infamy
which, like the fabled shirt of Nessus, would cling to it forever as the
country's betrayer, if it shall not shake itself free from these vile
contaminators. No party could survive the weight of the foul imputation
of putting barriers in the way of this war, which, we firmly believe,
though terrible and bloody while it lasts, is to end by giving a fresh
and vigorous impulse to the cause of human redemption and
advancement--an impulse that nothing thereafter shall be able to check
materially.
Although one only comprehensive principle lies at the bottom of the
anomalous condition of things which preceded, and at last culminated in,
the tremendous civil contest through which the country is now passing--a
fierce baptism of fire and blood necessary to purge and reinstate her in
pristine purity and grandeur, whose end is certainly not yet--still it
is constantly assuming new disguises, and has been aptly likened to a
virulent and incurable cancer in the body politic, which, driven in in
one place, instantly breaks out with redoubled fierceness in another.
Its latest and favorite form is that of hatred to New England. I have
called it _Southern_ hatred of New England. By this I do not mean to
denote any geographical limit or boundary. This war is not a war of
sections, but a war of ideas; and the terms _Southern_ and _Northern_
are to be limited to this ideal meaning. The two sections, as such, are
not arrayed against each other, but the two antagonistic principles
represented by these sections are, in sad truth, at deadly warfare. We
see Union men at the South, and secessionists at the North; but there is
this difference in the position of those who oppose the Government
North, and those who favor it South. The former are would-be leaders,
who assume to act for the outraged people; the latter are merely _the
people_, or a portion of them, lacking organization and leadership, and
consequently obliged to submit to the tyranny that has laid its iron
hand upon them. I do not believe, and never have believed, in the
asserted unanimity of the Southern people. Recalling my eight years'
residence among, and acquaintance with, the people of the South, of two
of the cotton States principally, I cannot think that they have, almost
to a man, lost their respect and love for the national banner and
authority, and, rather than submit to it again, would prefer to be
'_English Colonists_,' '_French vassals_,' or '_Russian serfs_!' No;
their leaders first grossly cajole and deceive them, and then basely
slander them. That there is an apparent oneness, I admit; but I think
the time is not far off when, if the Federal Government but does its
duty, and uses its authority and strength wisely, crippling the rebel
faction in every possible way, thousands of liberated arms will spring
forth to seize the sword in its defence, and as many liberated voices
swell the _All hail!_ that will burst out for its welcome. For, so long
tutored to the repression of any independent ideas, any sentiments that
do not tally with the doctrines to full belief in which these leaders
have aimed to educate the men of the last generation, viz., the divine
origin and purpose of slavery, and the other mischievous and absurd
dogma of State sovereignty, which, but for slavery and its imperative
demands, would never have seen the light, but have perished
stillborn--they have no idea of the freedom of opinion and expression
permitted among us, and their minds and consciences have become
nerveless and supine to an astonishing degree; or, if thinking and
feeling, as very many do, they suffer in silence, not daring to resist
the oppressive faction that has ruled them so long. Moral force and
courage is not the fruit of subserviency to the principles and ideas
that have gradually filled the Southern mind. No wonder that the Union
sentiment that showed itself so plainly at the outbreak of the rebellion
became, ere long, like one of those streams that, starting impetuously
from its mountain source, flows on awhile clearly and rapidly, and then
begins to wander and slacken its pace, till finally it is lost in the
dreariness and desolation of some marshy wilderness, and so never
reaches its destination, the open sea. There is no people in the world
so abused and defrauded as the bulk of the Southern whites. If you pity
the oppressed of another race, then pity still more those of your own
blood who are suffering a worse slavery, and who yet do not know it, but
hug fondly the chains of their servitude. Then, too, consider the
thousands of Northern men and women scattered all over the South, and
say if you think _they_ are linked, heart and hand, with the destroyers
of the Government.
But with all this as an offset, still there is an undeniably strong and
unscrupulous faction there, composed of the leading minds of the South,
acute, imperious, sophistical, used to political and social rule, and
backed by a small but cunning minority here at the North, so vile and
contemptible that, in comparison with its adherents, they, these slave
oligarchs, are 'Hyperion to a satyr.' These, with the thousands both
North and South, misled and befooled by them, form the formidable
opposition with which the Government is even now closing in a
life-or-death encounter. These represent one of the two grand ideas at
last met in a decisive struggle on this North American Continent, after
the numberless petty skirmishes, reconnoissances, and lesser conflicts
which have stained the battle fields of the world with the best blood of
humanity during so many thousand years. No child's play now--no
diplomatic dissembling--no sword thrusts intended to be parried, no
machiavelian hits nor disguises. The fight is close, desperate, deadly;
it is yard arm to yard arm; it is heart seeking for naked heart,
flashing eye to eye, visor down, and hot breath mingling with hot
breath, as the foes close in the last grapple. The other idea is
embodied in the principles of the Constitution and the Declaration of
Independence, and is represented by the Federal authority. The South,
then, is taken to mean the one, and the North, its opposite. On one side
barbarism, slavery, injustice, ignorance, despotism, the woes and
maledictions of oppressed races, the carnival of fiends; on the other,
civilization, freedom, justice, education, republicanism, the gladness
and gratitude of redeemed humanity, the jubilee of joy among angels. On
the side of disunion, endless bickerings, intestine wars, standing
armies, crushing debts, languishing commerce, all improvement at a stand
still, tyranny settling darkly down over the liberties of the people and
of individuals, and national influence gone forever. On the side of
Union, honorable peace, legitimate expansion, social order and
improvement, increasing commerce, the education and elevation of the
masses, the path of success open to all, the freedom and rights of all,
even the least and poorest secured, and the nation occupying a front
rank among nations, her flag loved no less than feared, her government
the model one of the world, and the great experiment of self-government
safe beyond the peradventure of failure. Who doubts the issue of such a
struggle--who would cheat himself of being one with God and good men in
the glory of a triumph so possible and certain?
But why is it that the hate of all rebels, North and South, is so
malignantly directed toward New England especially? What has she done
more than New York or Illinois? Again I reply, it is not geographical
New England that is so feared and hated, but the ideas she represents. I
have called these, already, the _Northern_ idea. But if the nature of
our political philosophy be closely scanned, if we exactly analyze the
genius of our institutions in their proper and unbiased action, we shall
be forced to acknowledge that it was the _Puritan_ idea which
predominated; that it is, in fact, the saving clause in the gospel of
our national salvation. And New England was the first home of the
Puritans--the focus from which have radiated the myriad beams of the
light of which they were the repositories to the remotest corners of the
land. Let no one be alarmed at the mention of the word _Puritan_. There
are some people who have no other notion of a Puritan than that of a
close-cropped, saturnine personage, having a nasal twang, who is
forevermore indulging an insane propensity to sing psalms, quote
Scripture, or burn witches. These are the people who can never see into
the profound deep of a great truth, but are quite ready to laugh at its
travesty or caricature. And what high or holy truth has not been
caricatured? For one, I envy not the head or the heart of him who can
think the name of Puritan a badge of shame or reproach, and who has no
sympathy nor admiration for the stern resolution, the wondrous
fortitude, the deep enthusiasm for freedom, the unwavering faith, and
the high religious devotion of those men and women who first lit a torch
in the wilderness, soon to become the beacon light of the world.
Nor would I be understood to mean a wholesale and indiscriminate
adoration of the Puritans as a _sect_. The appellation, which was
bestowed upon them in opprobrium, and which they certainly wore in no
meek manner, but evidently gloried in as a word of highest praise and
honor, I use as a convenient one to characterize the idea I would
represent. These men were but the chosen instruments in the hands of Him
who no doubt has ever ordered the course of affairs in the world, to
open up a new epoch in its history. The time was ripe--the men had been
moulded--and through them the free principles which had been culminating
through the ages, which had stirred the souls, animated the
imaginations, and quickened the desires of the best and noblest of the
race from its birth till now, were at last to find a resistless voice, a
limitless scope, an unrepressed expansion, on a new and magnificent
theatre. For freedom is of no time, nor clime, nor color, nor sect, nor
nationality. She is the primal gift of God to his intelligent creatures,
and is the kingly dower of every human soul. She was not born with the
Puritans, nor did she die with them. In no age or land, among no sect or
people, has she been without her priesthood, her altar, her ritual, her
heart worship. Nor is she to blame for the wrongs and atrocities
committed in her name. The ideas and principles the Puritans were
ordained to carry out and embody in a great political structure were of
the noblest, rarest, most enduring and beneficent; the faults that
marred the beauty and consistency of their own character, were the
exaggerations of their virtues, and arose from the frailty and
instability of the human heart, even when most governed and inspired by
the highest motives. The principles remain steadfast, immovable,
immortal; the defects we can but grieve over and forgive for the sake of
the grandeur they only marred but could not destroy.
Through the weakness of our nature, through the deceitfulness of the
heart, the zeal which, in its proper exercise, is admirable, as inciting
us to a grand enthusiasm in a cause believed to be true and holy,
ofttimes degenerates into a blind and bitter bigotry, as unreasoning as
reprehensible; the faith which pierces the unseen and eternal, and fixes
its calm eye on One who sits changeless amid infinite series of changes,
all-wise amid infinite follies and wickednesses of His creatures,
all-merciful and all-loving amid the hate and opposition of weak, finite
hearts, becomes a gloomy asceticism, or a fierce inquisitorial
despotism, perverting Him--this glorious and loving God--into a cold,
selfish, unreasonable Being, as far removed from our sympathies and love
as He is from caring for us, and only existing to receive the hateful
homage of fearful and enslaved souls; and what _was_ a high,
disinterested, fearless devotion to truth and duty becomes a narrow,
selfish, insane thirst for the ascendency of sect or party, or the
propagation of some pet dogmas, which, so far from touching practically
the happiness, duty, or destiny of the soul, are mere stumbling stones,
strewing the dark mountains of vain, egotistic, arrogant human
speculation. As there is no power so relentless as a theological or
spiritual despotism, so there is no tendency of the mind more easy,
subtle, or strong, than a tendency toward it. To say these men erred, is
to say that they were men. But if they partook of the common liability
to error of this nature, let us not forget that but for them, fallible
and inconsistent as they were, the seeds of liberty, wafted from a
thousand shores, and gathered through thousands of ages, might not have
been transplanted to this continent, nor this mighty banyan of American
freedom have struck its million roots into the soil far and wide, and
stretched its million interlacing arms abroad, a sure and safe refuge
for the nations.
It is not as a _sect_ that I admire the Puritans. Away with all party
lines, all sectional prejudices, all barriers of creed or sect at such a
time as this, when all nations and creeds and colors are forming in
serried ranks, a close and impervious breakwater, to resist the
threatening tide of rebellion and ruin whose sullen roar is in our ears,
and when 'heaps of brothers slain' look into the sad face of heaven from
fields where they fell, battling heroically to preserve the common
heritage. No! a better day is dawning--a day of fairer promise, of more
tranquil beauty, of more enduring blessedness, than ever before
gladdened the hearts of men. To see that day come, all the good and true
and loyal are waiting and working, no matter of what faith, or tongue,
or nationality. I do not regard the sins of the Puritans as resulting
from the principles by which they professed to be governed, but rather
as something extraneous and antagonistic to them. Their ideas and
principles resulted in the broadest constitutional liberty, while the
free thought, free speech, free inquiry, the wide individual freedom,
which, as a church, under the influence of a stern theological despotism
they sought to stifle, under those very institutions they founded are
to-day the pride, the life, the glory of free and progressive New
England.
It is only in this broad sense, then, that I use the term _Puritan_, to
denote the agency whereby Providence saw fit to inaugurate the ideas
which were to form the foundation of our national polity.
The Puritan idea, then, predominated in the principles embodied in the
Declaration of Rights and in the Constitution. But says one, Washington
was no Puritan, nor Jefferson, nor the majority of the first framers of
our Government. Granted that they were not born on Puritan soil, _par
excellence_, but were they not of the spirit and understanding of the
Puritans? (In fact, I suspect that Washington was a Puritan of the
Puritans.) A Virginia Puritan, a cavalier Puritan even, was not then the
strange phenomenon, the _lusus naturæ_, it would be nowadays. Besides,
let it be remembered that the Constitution was not the production of any
man or set of men. It was the outgrowth of the political ideas and
necessities of the age and country. These men, trained in the spirit of
the time, gave direction to their development, assisted to inaugurate
the reign of those ideas, and to give them a specific embodiment, no
more. Great and good men they were--the fit productions of the renowned
epoch of the birth of a great people. It is a noble thing, a thing for
fame and just pride, if men live at such a time who can share the
inspiration, and cause it to live in great deeds, to say nothing of
creating it.
What, then, are the distinguishing characteristics of this Puritan idea
or influence?
Since the country had a history at all, New England has been reputed the
centre, the abiding home of a pure morality. This needs no elaborate
argument to sustain it. The records of her criminal and civil courts
attest it; so do the general good order of her small communities and
larger cities, as well as the high character of the numerous men and
women who, emigrating to the various portions of the country, carry with
them, wherever they choose a home, the pure principles they have
learned around the home firesides in their native New England--the
industry, the thrift, the obedience to law, the superior intelligence,
which make them the best citizens in any community. The New England
communities, generally, possess a higher standard of morals, a more
intelligent adhesion to what is regarded as duty, a more simple social
intercourse, and purer social manners and customs, with fewer
dissipations and derelictions, than perhaps any other people in the
world can boast. Nor is there claimed for the New England Puritan a
perfect character. On the contrary, there are some traits which, in
their excess, we could wish were omitted in his composition. These,
however, will be found to be but exaggerations of his virtues for the
most part, and for the sake of those virtues can easily be tolerated,
though they have been sufficiently inveighed against from time to time.
From this high state of morals there results a very high degree of
_social_ order, which, in its result, again, gives large social and
individual liberty. Nowhere will there be found a freer people, and yet
one more observant of law. Indeed, the former is only the effect of the
latter. A cultivated reason sees at once that the more perfectly law is
observed, the more absolute does freedom become; that the highest
personal and social freedom is only attainable through a perfect
obedience to the laws by which persons and societies are bound.
Again, it is no doubt true, and may be stated as a characteristic
correlated to the one above mentioned, that nowhere else is a purer
gospel preached than in New England. The piety of the New England heart
is deep and strong, if not demonstrative and fervent. It is not like the
sweep of the winds, nor the rush of the torrents; its faith may be
burning, but it is the steady burning of the hidden fire, a vestal
flame, not the glare of the conflagration. It rather reminds me, in its
depth and strength and purity, of the ocean, calm, uniform, and
monotonous outwardly, but concealing under its surface many a swift
current and strong countercurrent, many a fair expanse, many a lovely
secret of life, beauty, and glory. The religious faith of New England
fully and devoutly receives those sublime doctrines of Christianity
which were given as good news, indeed, to the race; not to a favored
few, but to the individual man and woman of the race. It credits in a
real and literal sense the declaration of Paul that 'God hath made of
_one_ blood all the nations of the earth;' and the opening sentence of
the Declaration of Rights is something more to them than a 'glittering
generality.' A deep, intelligent religious faith may be said to underlie
all the institutions of New England, political and social. For what _is_
that genius of Christianity that has ever found its truest exponent in
the teachings of the New England theology, and in the lives and practice
of her people? Is it not the liberty of every person, without respect to
color or condition, but simply in consideration of his humanity, to
learn and to obey every law of his being, physical, moral, intellectual,
social, and religious? To be untrammelled in following out the best
light conscience and revelation may afford him as to the constitution
and laws of his being, his duty to himself, his fellow man, and his
Creator, and his destiny, which he himself is to determine? The
Christian religion may be comprehensively defined as the golden circlet
which includes all the complex duties, interests, and affections of the
most complex being, man, and lifts him up, and binds him back, with all
his capacities, hopes, and sympathies, to the throne of the Infinite,
from which, in his low, fettered, and sinful estate, he is an alien; and
all this through the love and mercy of the Infinite One Himself. This I
conceive to be the true intent and glorious result of Christianity, when
allowed to have free and unimpeded action on the soul of man. It will
be seen to be wellnigh limitless--a power adequate to the work to be
accomplished, and in this sense is truly 'the power of God and the
wisdom of God.' This power is dominant, either consciously or
unconsciously, over every relation of life in New England, being
interwoven in the very life of her institutions. I believe this secret,
quiet, yet active, all-pervading influence is very little understood,
and yet it will explain much in the Puritan character that no other key
will unlock. I have mentioned a pure morality, which is the effect,
before a pure Christianity, which is the cause, simply because the
effect is more obvious at first glance.
The third great characteristic of the Puritan idea is a _pure
republicanism_. In the largest sense, I hold this also to be the effect
of the one just mentioned; for, if tested, the whole spirit and tone of
Christianity are republican. On New England soil, from the hour when the
little band of pilgrim heroes first set foot on an inhospitable shore,
by their footprints upon it making a barren rock a holy shrine for the
world's love and veneration, has ever been a sure refuge, a very
palladium of republican institutions, of human liberties. It was not
alone its religious tendencies that excited the persecution and
detestation of Puritanism in the Old World which gave impulse to the
resolution to transplant themselves to a land where freedom, if nothing
else, was to be found. It was equally as much its republican and
democratic theories. Souls made free by the spirit of the Lord, as the
souls of those grand old Puritans were, could no more brook the tyranny
of the Charleses and Georges of Britain, and so, through blood and fire
and sword and chains, was the germ of liberty borne across the watery
waste, to be sown anew, as they thought and proposed, in the genial soil
of the region bordering on the Hudson, but, as God willed it, in the
perverse and barren soil of rockbound, sea-washed New England. Truly
this was a novel spectacle. Never in the history of peoples before was
it seen that a bare idea was strong enough to lay the foundations of a
great state, through persecution, exile, and death, and untold
privations worse than death. O you who would bring discredit on the
memory and name of the Puritans, recall this noblest era of time; rise
for one hour, if your souls have any wings, to the height of this
grandeur, and bid calumny and defamation be dumb!
This germ of republican freedom took deep root, and acquired an
ineradicable hold of their civil polity, and the whole machinery of
their civil government; and, spreading from New England to the adjoining
colonies, and from these to others, soon permeated the whole
confederation, at length forming the basis of a national government, a
national condition which has heretofore represented the highest
civilization of the world.
Is it not plain, then, _why_ they do so, who oppose and hate the
influence and ideas of New England? If anything could measure the utter
vileness of slavery and its degrading effect on the mind, it would be
the consideration of the unblushing assurance with which its lovers
defend it, and at the same time assail those sacred principles which lie
at the root of our national life, and without which we are dead and
cumbering the ground. Our nation holds _in trust_ certain principles,
for the successful carrying out of which the nations of the earth wait
in hushed and anguished expectancy, and in the failure of which we
should be no better than any of the effete, defunct peoples of buried
ages; or, rather, in the failure to bring them to a triumphant
vindication, we had far better be as Sodom and Gomorrah. These
principles are now the stake for which the loyal men of the land are
gladly offering up life, treasure, children, _all_, so they but win.
We hear a great deal, nowadays, from rebel sources, of the different
race which settled Virginia and Carolina from that which peopled New
England, and the immeasurable superiority of the former. If the
mouthpiece of the confederacy, Mr. Jefferson Davis, may be believed, the
latter and their descendants are not worthy even to be the _slaves_ of
the former, and are a degree lower in the scale of creation than the
_hyenas_! Differing in language, manners, customs, ideas, there is no
possibility of a peaceable union, say the confederate organs. In fine,
language is exhausted of epithets expressive of their scorn, contempt,
and hatred of the _Yankees_, as they are opprobriously nicknamed. But do
these men ignore the fact that the original settlers of both New England
and Virginia were purely English? They were from the same stock
precisely. As to the _character_ of each, I cannot do better than to
quote from a work of which Americans may well be both glad and proud, a
work that has set us and our institutions in a truer and juster light
than any before it. I allude to the work of M. De Tocqueville on
'Democracy in America.' In volume first, chapter fifth, he says:
'The men sent to Virginia were seekers of gold, adventurers without
resources and without character, whose turbulent and restless
spirits endangered the infant colony, and rendered its progress
uncertain. The artisans and agriculturists arrived afterward; and
although they were a more moral and orderly race of men, they were
in no wise above the level of the inferior classes in England. No
lofty conceptions, no intellectual system, directed the foundation
of these new settlements.'
He adds, in a note:
'It was not till some time later, that a certain number of rich
English capitalists came to fix themselves in the colony.'
It is true that in the course of time some men of high character and
position were attracted to the genial climate and virgin resources of
the new Southern colonies, and, buying up large tracts of land, fixed
themselves permanently, sensibly modifying the condition of affairs. The
descendants of such men as these afterward became the most famous
leaders of the Revolution which Puritan principles effected. They were
men of whom descendants may well be proud, but it is certain that they
have had _very few_ descendants; _therefore_, the great body of the
slaveholders, each one of whom would fain believe himself, and try to
make others believe him, a scion of this renowned stock, must have had a
very different origin.
In striking contrast with the above account, here is what he says of the
first settlers of the Northern colonies:
'The settlers who established themselves on the shores of New
England all belonged to the more independent classes of their
native country. Their union on the soil of America at once
presented the singular phenomenon of a society containing neither
lords nor common people, neither rich nor poor. These men
possessed, in proportion to their number, a greater mass of
intelligence than is to be found in any European nation of our own
time. All, without a single exception, had received a good
education, and many of them were known in Europe for their talents
and their acquirements. The other colonies had been founded by
adventurers without family; the emigrants of New England brought
with them the best elements of order and morality; they landed in
the desert, accompanied by their wives and children. But what most
especially distinguished them was the aim of their undertaking.
They had not been obliged by necessity to leave their country; the
social position they abandoned was one to be regretted, and their
means of subsistence were certain. Nor did they cross the Atlantic
to improve their situation, or to increase their wealth: the call
which summoned them from the comforts of their homes was purely
intellectual; and in facing the inevitable sufferings of exile,
their object was the triumph of an idea.'
Let the world judge between the Puritan and the so-called Cavalier!
As the same author remarks--'The influence of slavery, united to the
English character, explains the manners and the social condition of the
Southern States;' so it is no less true, that the influence of an almost
unlimited democracy, the product of widespread intelligence and pure
religion, united to the English character, explains the peculiar
civilization of New England. It is nothing strange, certainly, that,
after the wide and continued divergence of two aggressive principles for
more than two hundred years, they should at last come to stand in the
position of giant antagonisms, and close in a deadly grapple for the
ascendency. It is perfectly natural that the ignorance and mental
darkness of slave Virginia or Carolina should fear and hate above all
things the light of knowledge that streams from New England; it is
natural that the unquestioned immorality and laxity of principle
engendered by slavery should shrink from the contrast with a state of
morals unsurpassed for purity in the world; and that an obsequious
church and clergy, which, in the holy name of religion, and 'using the
livery of heaven to serve the devil in,' had dared by the thinnest
sophistries and most palpable perversions to garble the true teachings
of the Bible, and been willing to brave the anathemas denounced against
those who add to or subtract from aught written therein, should accede
willingly to a separation which could relieve them somewhat from an
odious comparison, to say the least. Compare the vigorous, consistent,
and sublime theology of New England, the widely spread influence of her
cultivated and philanthropic clergy, with that part of the clergy and
church of the South which, in sustaining slavery, has lost all hold upon
human sympathies, all influence, save in the regions where the highest
crime against humanity has become a matter of interest, of sordid
speculation. Alas! what sadder spectacle could be seen than the
ministers of Christ using their talents to lead their people into wrong,
mocking religion, trailing its snowy wings in the mire of the most
corrupt political dogmas, doing their utmost to upheave that grand
corner stone set by Christ himself in the primal temple of Christianity
and humanity: 'All things whatsoever you would that men should do to
you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.'
That men and women, taught from infancy to look upon slavery as a moral
and political as well as a material good; whose ideas, manners, habits
have become interwoven with its existence in their midst, and who, no
matter how falsely, as those may think who look upon it from a
comparatively disinterested standpoint, conceive that it lies at the
base of their social prosperity and happiness; who have been accustomed
from forum, hustings, pulpit, and press, to hear an institution that
appeals to so many selfish instincts and principles in the human heart,
lauded and defended, and made to be the Ultima Thule of Southern hope,
pride, and ambition; that they should view with displeasure and anger
such an influence as the institutions of New England must always wield,
is not so surprising. But that men can be found here in the free North,
yea, more, in New England itself, to sympathize with them, to echo their
degraded sentiments, and to wish to see the slave power supreme in the
land, is what surpasses wonder, and almost belief. Yet a portion of a
large, old, and venerated party have come to be their miserable allies
and claqueurs. The truth is, we may say and believe that slavery is a
dire wrong, a foul injustice, done to a whole race, and therefore ought
to die, but that does not tell one half of the damning story: the worst
is this, that it gradually kills out the virtue, the manliness, the
moral vitality of the nation that allows it; that it has done so in our
own nation to an alarming extent is the great, the fear-impelling cause
why it should be rooted out, abolished, as an influence in the
Government.
'Ah, but,' says the Northern traitor, 'that very _abolition_ has done
the whole mischief. If there had been no Abolitionists, there would have
been no war. The _Abolitionists_ are responsible for it all.' Softly,
poor, weak-minded man! Does not any man's common sense tell him that
wherever a wrong exists, it is in the nature of things that somebody
should oppose it--that a desire should arise to get rid of it? It is the
_chief_ mercy of God to the world, next to His providing salvation for
it, that this _conscience_ is left to it, this sense of wrong, and the
will and struggle to abolish the wrong. For such remonstrance the
Abolitionists are indeed responsible!
There are certain words that have come to be used in an indefinite,
canting sort of way, so that they have no meaning at all, or, at least,
a meaning very deceptive. These words represent bugbears to unthinking
people, and unscrupulous men do not fail to pervert this fact to their
own or party ends. Such are some of the terms which have been applied to
New England, both South and North. She is called _radical_, and a most
absurd and mischievous idea of New England radicalism is rife,
especially in the South. Said a Southern gentleman to me on one occasion
(he was a physician, was one of the most intelligent slaveholders I ever
met, and was an occasional contributor to De Bow's _Review_):
'You New Englanders do not believe anything; you are all
freethinkers--is it not so?'
_Par parenthese_, that word _freethinker_ is another of the terms
conventionally abused. This gentleman had just been speaking of this
very thing, New England radicalism, and in his query showed an evident
idea that it involved that species of unbelief, that discarding of all
creeds or standards of belief, popularly known as _freethinking_. It
also includes, in the minds of many of the Southern people, the exercise
of a kind of personal license, an abandoning of the good old established
landmarks of thought and action, and a strong-minded striking out into
new paths of experiment, regardless of form or law. A Northern woman
going to the South is assumed to be _strong-minded_, especially, till
she has proved herself _feminine_. There is nothing so absurd as this
idea, when one considers that there is no people on earth as free,
independent, and original, intellectually, as they are, who possess so
deep and abiding a respect and veneration for those same laws and
institutions. New England is the prolific hive whence swarm all the
_isms_ that infest the country, say they. They do not understand that in
a state of society where education is universal, where mind is
constantly meeting mind, and thought clashing with thought, the restless
and heaving mass must be always throwing up something to the surface, it
may be froth, it may be tangled weeds, rough stones, or plain shells, or
it may be curious and valuable gems fit to glitter in a coronet, or
shells of dazzling colors and manifold convolutions fit to shine in rare
cabinets. The waveless and stagnant calm of the mass of the Southern
mind can have no conception of the intellectual movement that is ever
going on in such a community as New England.
But this radicalism especially bears on its 'horrid front' that bugbear
of all conservatism, the world over--_abolition_. There is no word so
abused as that. The thing itself is as old and inevitable as the
relation of cause and effect, as the existence of sin and righteousness,
as the contest between God and Satan. Just as if there could help being
an abolition sentiment where there existed the aggressive, hateful
principle of slavery!
Then that peculiar and valuable trait of Yankee character, which the
French so aptly call _savoir faire_, and which they themselves term
_faculty_, the power of accomplishing, the knowing how to do, the
understanding how to suit means to ends, which makes a Yankee so useful
and versatile, and consequently a valuable acquisition to society--has
received its full share of Southern abuse and ridicule. 'They palm off
upon us their inventions, half of which are worthless,' say they. 'They
cheat us with their wares, their manufactures, their patents, and
nostrums. They grow rich on our necessities, and take the world's trade
from our harbors, so superior to theirs, and they are always busy, and
intermeddling in everybody's affairs; and we hate them--ah, how we _do_
hate them!' In short, a certain leading class at the South, that which
moulds and leads the hollow, shrinking, scared thing they called _public
opinion_, have come to hate and detest everything distinctively New
English, and finally to make the wicked, traitorous attempt to overturn
the Government, which they know received its highest and controlling
impulse from the Puritan ideas of that portion of the country. In the
material world, nothing is plainer than the fact embodied in the old
adage, 'Straws show which way the wind blows.' In the realm of moral and
social law, however, the indications, just as palpable, of the direction
in which the current of public sentiment is setting, are usually ignored
or pass unobserved at the time being; and not till great events have
called attention to the causes that produced them, do these indications
take all the prominence due to them. These minor symptoms I have
noticed, of the dislike of New England in the Southern mind, have been
plainly to be seen in all the doings and sayings of their public men of
this generation at least, to go no further back, and in the utterances
of the press throughout the South. Flings, innuendoes, sarcasms,
condescensions, insults, have been heaped upon the _Yankees_, by the
representatives of the slave power, in the National Congress, in the
State Legislatures, in their public speeches, and by the minions of the
press, until it would seem as if they must have fallen on dead ears, so
little fever they have stirred in the blood of the North. Still, if
anyone supposes that the ostensible causes of dislike are the real ones,
he is mistaken. Does any man of them all, of these leaders, I mean,
suppose for one instant that the Yankee negro-trader, overseer, peddler,
lucre-loving tradesman, slaver, slave catcher, subservient politician,
or mouthing, dirt-swallowing pulpit huckster, is a true representative
of the influence and ideas of New England? Or that the present
Copperhead Democracy of that section is the real exponent of the genuine
spirit of the Puritan Democracy? Certainly not. They are shrewd men, of
great discernment, and in their way brave and chivalrous, and I verily
do not wonder if they would not have these renegade Yankees even as
_slaves_. No! the actual cause of their hatred is the silent,
all-pervading influence of the _free institutions_ of New England, which
derive their power and efficacy from the universal means of education
there enjoyed. Shut up the schoolhouses, and burn the schoolbooks in New
England, to-day, and let these free institutions become a dead letter
thereby, and the _Yankees_ would be as good as anybody in their eyes,
because the sword which their intelligence keeps ever suspended over the
head of slavery would be effectually laid to rust in its scabbard. Is it
not a pitiful, a disgusting sight, that men are found, Northern men,
_New-England Yankees_ even, to kneel before the slaveocrats still, after
the load of scorn and contumely already heaped upon them, and humbly
cry, 'More--give us more contempt--our backs are made to bear the
burden!'
God pity such creatures!
And these are the men who advocate a confederation of States with New
England left out to shift for herself! New England left out? Fools! to
think it possible. Knaves! to deem it desirable, if it were possible. As
well banish the Creator from the universe He has made--the sun from the
system he warms and enlightens! Not until you have destroyed the
essence, the inner spirit of the Government which of all the governments
in the world secures 'the greatest good to the greatest number;' not
until Freedom is dead and laid in her final grave; not until the temple
of knowledge is barred and double barred; not until all your common
schools are closed, your free presses manacled, your free Bible
suppressed, your right of free speech and free inquiry smothered to
death; not until your ships have gone down in the waters, and the hammer
rests in your shipyards, and your railroads cease to open a way in the
wilderness made straight for the entrance of the most advanced
civilization; not until the race of Yankee capitalists is extinct, and
enterprise, thrift, industry, nerve, moral courage, the intellectual
conquest of the material world become traditional, will that be
possible. No! I thank God, that the record of New England is so sure and
indelible that nothing can root her out of this land, not even if her
whole geographical area were forever submerged by the waters of the
ocean that girts her round in barren majesty. Ideas, principles, can
never die or be effaced. They shall survive the wreck of matter, and the
final catastrophe of the universe. And her empire is that of ideas.
Small as she is, she wields the power of the very foremost ideas of the
highest civilization of the world. These ideas have at last held at bay
the so long encroaching slave principles which were so strangely left to
grow alongside with them by the early framers of the Government, and who
doubts which is to conquer? The struggle may be a long one, a costly
one, and freedom may at last barely escape with her life. But so sure as
humanity sweeps onward; so sure as the average progress of the race is
never retrograde; so sure as right bears in its bosom the seeds of
eternal life, and wrong the seeds of eternal death; so sure as God sits
on His throne and the heavens do rule,' the free ideas of New England
will yet bear sway over this continent, and, in their moral force at
least, mould and remodel the governments of the world. If not preserved
intact by the men of this generation, then by others will this ultimate
result be reached. God is not confined in His agencies. He sets up one,
and puts down another, and the generation that is found worthy to build
the temple for Him to dwell in, to preserve and perfect the beautiful
heritage He has provided for His freedmen, His redeemed and enfranchised
people out of all the nations in which they have been held in mental and
political bondage, shall have the honor and privilege, be sure. And
think not, O ye men to whom is committed this high trust, that it will
be a small thing to leave this birthright unto others; for as no people
were ever before so distinguished in having this holiest ark of the
covenant of freedom in their midst, so the grave of infamy into which ye
shall be cast, if the Philistines dispossess you of it, shall be
bottomless. There is no resurrection for the people who should betray
such a cause, freighted as it is with the hopes and future destiny of
the struggling races of the earth.
And O ye other men (would ye _were_ men!) who are in league
with traitors, ay, who are even worse than they, to do
this accursed thing, know that this pit is yawning for you.
Down--down--deeper--deeper--pressed to perdition by the curses
of those who are to come after you, whom you wronged so remorselessly.
In that terrific vision of hell, seen by the poet Dante, those who had
betrayed country, freedom, were visited by the most awful sufferings,
pursued by the most vengeful fiends, and pushed to the most dire
extremity of woe. Among the pale, haunted, shrieking shades flitting
through that limbo of horrors, they were conspicuous in punishment. And
if remorse is in reality the undying worm, the quenchless fire of that
future state which recompenses for the deeds of this, surely the traitor
to this good, free Government will be made to experience its unmeasured
horrors. The salvation of our country, then, and its position and
influence as one of the family of nations, depend on its return to, and
its enforcing of, those fundamental principles of freedom, moral right,
and justice which underlie our system, and for the most part form our
superstructure. Ours is the moral lever that is to move the world, if we
will have it so. If we lose our moral prestige we are nothing. We have
the best Government in the world, but it has, since the time of the
fathers, for the most part, been the worst administered. Instead of
being made to work in the interest of freedom, the opposite has been the
fact, and the whole influence and patronage of the Government for years
have been in favor of the slave element. Prior to the incoming of the
present Administration, this gradual deterioration in the animus of the
Federal Government had culminated in a condition so disgraceful and
shameful, that it is enough to dye the cheek of any honest man with red,
only to think of it. It was time, if ever, for the climax to be put upon
it all, and now it will be a thing to give endless thanks for, if enough
virtue and manliness and true patriotism are left in the loyal States to
bring the nation, under God, safely through the troubles and disasters
into which its supineness, its temporizing and subserviency to wrong
have led it.
Oh, could I speak with the convincing tones of a prophet or an angel,
instead of the weak voice of a woman, I would make myself heard
throughout the length and breadth of the land by every man, of whatever
caste or color, whatever birth or tongue, whatever nationality or
political creed, North, East, West, South, and especially this great
West, of which I am so proud and confident, and would say to them:
'Rise! quit you like men--be strong! Upon you the ends of the world have
come. If you have manhood, assert it now! If you are worthy the name of
American, make it _now_ to be honored among the nations. If there is any
incentive in the glory of the career that would open to the accelerated
progress of a Union at last free and redeemed, without a tyrant or a
slave, let it nerve your hearts and inspire your exertions _now_. If you
do not desire the self-gratulations of the crowned despots of the world,
and the despair and lamentation of their subject millions, see to it
that this great experiment of self-government fail not _now_. If you
would gladden the hearts of our friends in other lands, the Brights and
Cobdens, the Gasparins and Laboulayes, liberal men, who love truth,
justice, right, freedom, who are 'one with their kind,' be ambitious of
coöperating with them in the work of human elevation and amelioration.'
Those who seize upon great opportunities are the men whom History
rescues from oblivion, and sets in the memory of mankind forever,
whether with blessings or cursings, with glory or shame, as the
benefactors or the enemies of their kind. A rare opportunity is passing
before this nation. Who will seize upon it, and how? We shall see.
WAITING FOR NEWS!
The succeeding Poem, 'Waiting for News,' was written by a mother,
who says.
'If there is any power in truth, this poem should express what is
intended; for my own boy, but little more than fifteen, had been in
the battle at Culpepper, and I knew not if he were living or dead!
He was far too young to enter the army, but I could not resist his
earnest pleadings--for he is tall and manly, and I well know, were
_I_ in his place, I too would shoulder my knapsack and go!'
All honor to such mothers!--ED.
Waiting, O Father! a fond mother waiting,
Waiting _so_ anxious, the dark tide's abating!
Waiting all breathless, in agonized anguish,
Living by heart-throbs that spring up--then languish;
Catching each sound that comes back from the battle,
Dark shrieks and groans and the lonely death rattle,
Imaging visions of feverish thirsting--
Hearts in their utterest loneliness bursting!
Thinking of _him_, late the babe of her bosom,
Fair faced and blue eyed, love's tenderest blossom,
Dashing along 'mid the carnage around him,
Fearless as Mars 'mid the balls that surround him,
Changed, as by magic, from home's tender brother,
Lovingest son, both to father and mother--
Changed to a man, to a stern, noble soldier--
None in the field that is braver or bolder!
Writing: 'I'm proud of the name, dearest mother!
Craven is he who would hold any other
While our loved standard of freedom 's in danger,
May he forever be held as a stranger!'
Such are the words in his last noble letter!
What fifteen years that could write any better?
Now I am waiting to know if he 's wounded--
Waiting--to know how my fears must be bounded:
Closed his eyes _may_ be to sorrow or danger--
Dead he _may_ be in the land of the stranger!
God of the desolate--Rachel's Consoler!
Light of the universe--Nature's Controller!
Pity me, pity me! Send consolation!
Let not my heart feel this deep desolation!
He is _so_ young, and he loves me so truly--
Scourge me not, Father! so deep--so unduly!
Leave him! to lighten my life-load of sorrow!
Leave him to brighten the clouds of my morrow!
Leave him to love me when other loves fail me,
Leave him to strengthen when rude storms assail me!
Leave him--so kind, both as son and as brother;
Leave him, a future of hope to his mother!
God of all battles! speed, speed this decision!
Let us not look, as afar, at a vision!
Send to our soldiers the true men to lead them:
_They_ have the courage--do Thou guide and speed them!
Then shall our sisters, our wives, and our mothers
Feel that our husbands, our sons, and our brothers,
Though they may fall, are not led to the altar
Heedless and reckless, like beasts by the halter!
Then we may feel, though their dear blood is staining
Freedom's fair banner, a COUNTRY we're gaining!
Then we may look, though with eyes dim and burning,
Some day or other, their blessed returning!
Or we may see, though with eyes dim with weeping,
Freedom's bird hover in love o'er their sleeping:
Feeling, though sorrow may make our heads hoary,
They are not victims of weakness, but glory!
EARLY HISTORY OF THE PRINTING AND NEWSPAPER PRESS IN BOSTON AND NEW
YORK.
To write an article on the history of the Art of Printing, without
paying our respects, in the first instance, to the Devil and Doctor
Faustus, will be considered not only a violation of all precedent, but,
as regards those individuals, a positive breach of good manners. They
have so long been associated together, not only in popular tradition but
in books, that the greater part of the reading world seem to think them
to have been the original partners in the republic of letters. Indeed,
for some absurd reason or other, the opinion is even yet quite prevalent
that one of the original concern has been a silent partner, though not a
sleeping one, in every printing establishment since. The proposition, to
this extent, is certainly inadmissible; and yet, from the moral
condition of a large portion of the press, it must be confessed there is
strong presumptive evidence that in the unhappy influences exercised by
the personage referred to over the affairs of men, he is not altogether
neglectful of the press. Be this, however, as it may, the press has
become, in this country especially, an engine of such great importance
in the daily affairs of life--its energies are of such tremendous power,
either for good or evil, that it is believed a few moments can be
profitably spent in glancing at its rise and early progress in Boston
and New York.
The honor of setting up the first printing press in the American
Colonies belongs to Massachusetts. Only eighteen years had elapsed from
the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, before a press was in operation
at Cambridge--then as populous as Boston. The project of establishing a
press in the New World was conceived and almost executed by the Rev.
Jesse Glover, a dissenting clergyman in England, who had interested
himself largely in planting the colony, and a portion of whose family
was already in America. Mr. Glover raised the means of purchasing his
press, types, and other necessary apparatus by contributions in England
and Holland. With these materials he embarked for America in 1638, but
died a few days before the ship reached the shore. Cambridge was at that
time the seat of the civil and ecclesiastical power in Massachusetts;
and as the academy which subsequently grew into Cambridge University had
then been commenced, it was determined by the leading men of the colony
to establish the press there; and there it remained for sixty years
under their control, and forty years before a press was established in
any other colony. The first printer was Stephen Day, engaged in London
by Mr. Glover, and supposed to be a descendant of the celebrated John
Day, the noted printer. The second printer in the Colonies was Samuel
Green, to whom Day relinquished the business in 1649. Colonel Samuel
Green, the late venerable editor of the _New London Gazette_, was a
descendant in a direct line from the original printer of that name; the
family having uninterruptedly engaged in that business for nearly two
hundred years. The elder Green printed the Indian Bibles and Testaments
for those early apostles of the New World who first engaged in the
benevolent work of attempting the civilization and evangelization of the
aboriginals of this country--a noble race of wild men, who have melted
away before the palefaces, like the hoarfrost beneath the beams of the
morning sun.
The sturdy republican religionists of New England became very soon as
chary of allowing the freedom of the press as were the Pontiff and the
crowned heads of Europe. Some religious tracts having been published
which the clergy and the General Court deemed of too liberal a
character, licensers of the press were appointed in 1662; but in the
year following, it was ordered by the Provincial Government that 'the
printing press be as free as formerly.' This freedom, however, was soon
exerted more freely than ever. The attention and the fears of the
Government were accordingly again awakened; and in October, 1664, it was
enacted that no printing press should be allowed in any other town or
place of the colony than Cambridge; and that no person or persons should
be permitted to print anything even there, but by the allowance of at
least two of a board of three censors appointed for that purpose. But
even the licensers were not sufficiently rigid to please the General
Court--for, having permitted the publication of that most excellent and
pious little work, 'The Imitation of Christ,' by Thomas à Kempis, it was
held to be heretical by the Legislature, and its further publication
without a new revision was prohibited in 1667. The principal
specification against it was that it was written by a Popish minister.
In 1671, the General Court directed the revision and publication of the
laws of the colony. Until that time the laws had always been printed at
the expense of the commonwealth. But a wealthy bookseller, by the name
of John Usher, applied for permission to publish them on his own
account; and to prevent Green from printing extra copies for himself, he
procured the passage of an act prohibiting the printing of any more
copies than he should direct; and in this enactment we find the origin
of copyright in this country. In 1673, the copyright was secured to
Usher for seven years. Green soon became a prolific printer. He came to
this country so destitute as to be obliged to sleep under the shelter of
a barrel; but lived to an advanced age, and had two wives and nineteen
children. He was early in life elected an ensign of the Cambridge
militia company, and subsequently rose to the rank of captain, under
which commission he served thirty years. So exceeding fond was he of his
martial life, that, when extremely old, he was carried to the parade
ground in a chair to direct the exercises of his company. Some of his
descendants have been engaged in the printing business for more than a
century past in Connecticut. Others of his family established their
business at Annapolis, in Maryland, in 1740, where it has been continued
by their descendants until the present day.
The partner of the elder Green, for a number of years, was Marmaduke
Johnson, who had been sent over from England by the Commissioners of
Indian affairs to assist in printing the Bible in the Indian language.
He turned out badly, however, and, in two years after his arrival, was
tried and convicted of making an unlawful _impression_ upon Mr. Green's
daughter. The charge in the indictment was 'for alluring the daughter of
Mr. Samuel Green, printer, and drawing away her affection, without the
consent of her father.' This was a direct breach of the law of the
colony; for in those good times, no young lady might venture to fall in
love without, like a dutiful child, asking her father's consent. But
Johnson was doubly guilty, since he had a wife in England. He was
therefore fined five pounds, and ordered to go home to his first love.
This order, however, was for a time evaded; and he afterward found means
of procuring a reconciliation with Green--his wife having probably died
in the mean time--and of entering into a partnership with the father of
his American charmer. Her prudent father, however, as is most likely,
obliged her to leave off loving him, since the chronicles of those days
say that the inconstant typographer was married in 1770 to Ruth Cane of
Cambridge. He then began to look up in the world, and was elected to the
office of constable, which in those days was much more elevated than
that of sheriff is now.
In 1674 the first press was established in Boston by permission of the
General Court; and two additional licensers were appointed--one of whom
was the Rev. Increase Mather. The printer was John Foster, who was also
somewhat of an astronomer. He made and printed almanacs; but died at the
early age of thirty-three. He was a man of so much consideration that
two poems were published on the occasion of his death. One of them
concluded with the following lines:
'This body, which no activeness did lack,
Now 's laid aside like an old almanack;--
But for the present 's only out of date,
'Twill have at length a far more active state.
Yea, though with dust thy body soiled be,
Yet at the resurrection we shall see
A fair EDITION, and of matchless worth,
Free from ERRATAS, new in Heaven set forth;
'Tis but a word from God, the Great Creator,
It shall be done, when he saith IMPRIMATUR.'
'Whoever,' says Isaiah Thomas, 'has read the celebrated epitaph of
Franklin on himself, will have some suspicion that it was taken from
this original.'
One of Green's apprentices was an Indian lad, who became master of the
business, and assisted in printing Eliot's Indian Bible. When King
Philip's war came on, however, his bosom was fired with _amor patriæ_,
and he ran off and joined himself to his countrymen. Returning again,
under the proclamation, after the death of the great Narragansett king,
James, for such was his English name, obtained a pardon, and worked at
the business for the remainder of his life. From Eliot's account of him,
he was the most accurate printer in the colony--the only one 'who was
able to correct the press with understanding.' He printed the Psalter
and several other works in the Indian language; and being always known
as James the Printer, he assumed the latter as his surname. He married
and reared a family by that name, whose descendants were recently living
in Grafton.
The first newspaper published in North America was the _Boston News
Letter_, commenced in April, 1704, by John Campbell. It was printed by
the authority of the licensers, as a half sheet of what was then called
pot paper--a large size of foolscap. Campbell was a bookseller, and the
postmaster of Boston. The paper was printed by Bartholomew Green. The
first number contained the Queen's speech to both houses of Parliament;
some notice of the attempts of the Pretender, James the Eighth of
Scotland, who was said to be sending over Popish missionaries from
France; three or four paragraphs of domestic intelligence; four items of
ship news from Philadelphia, New York, and New London; and one
advertisement by the editor. The paper was continued fifteen years,
weekly, upon the half sheet of foolscap, without a rival on the
continent, and continually languishing for want of support.[A] In 1719
the editor made a great effort to enlarge his publication. He stated in
his prospectus that he found it to be impossible, with a weekly half
sheet, to carry on all the public occurrences of Europe, with those of
the American colonies and the West Indies. He was then thirteen months
behind the news from Europe, and to obviate the difficulty he resolved
to publish every other week a full sheet of foolscap, he afterward
announced, as the advantage of this enlargement, that in eight months he
was able to bring down the foreign news to within five months of the
date of his publication!
What a contrast between the newspaper of that day and our own! _Then_
news from England, five months old, was fresh and racy. Now we must have
it in twelve days, and even then send out fleets of newsboats from Cape
Race to bring it to us two days sooner than steam can take the ship up
to New York and Boston. _Then_, news seven days old from New York to
Boston was swift enough for an express. Now, if we cannot obtain the
news from Washington in less than the same number of minutes, we rave
and storm, and talk of starting new telegraph companies. _Then_, four
snug little foolscap papers a month contained all that the world was
doing that any one cared to know. Now, a paper published every morning
as large as a mainsail needs a supplement; and I presume there is not an
editor in any of our large cities who publishes half the new matter he
gets prepared.
The second American newspaper was the _Boston Gazette_, the first number
of which was published in December, 1719, by William Brookes, the
successor of Campbell as postmaster. It was printed on half a sheet of
foolscap by James Franklin, brother of Benjamin Franklin, who served his
apprenticeship with him. The proprietor, printer, and publisher of the
_Gazette_, however, were soon changed; and in 1721 the _New England
Courant_ was established in Boston by James Franklin, who was both
proprietor and publisher. With the establishment of this paper commenced
the newspaper wars of America, which have continued ever since.
Franklin, piqued at having been ousted from the _Gazette_, commenced
attacking that journal with bitterness. He did not make the _Courant_ so
much of a newspaper as an essayist; and it was filled with discussions
of the prevailing religious opinions of that day, and with attacks upon
the public officers and the clergy. These essays were furnished by a
society of nine literary gentlemen, who were called a set of
freethinkers by some, and the 'Hell Fire Club' by others. Young Benjamin
wrote some of the essays, although the authorship was not at the time
known. Among other matters, inoculation for the small pox was then
warmly opposed as being highly improper. The character of the paper was
spirited, and its tone that of religious scepticism. It was not long in
attracting much of the public attention, and in provoking the resentment
of the colonial Government and clergy. The Rev. Increase Mather having
been claimed in the _Courant_ as one of its supporters, came out with a
long and wrathful contradiction of the assertion. 'I can well remember,'
says that eminent and excellent divine, 'when the civil Government would
have taken an effectual course to suppress such a _cursed libel_! which,
if it be not done, I am afraid that some _awful judgment_ will come upon
this land, and that the wrath of God will arise, and there will be no
remedy. I cannot but pity poor Franklin, who, though but a young man, it
may be, speedily he must appear before the judgment seat of God; and
what answer will he be able to give for printing things so vile and
abominable?' In sober truth, it would be well for all those connected
with the press to bear in mind this passage from that excellent man; for
who can estimate the evil of even one lie, once put into circulation?
It was not long before Franklin was arrested by the Government, and
imprisoned four weeks in the common jail, for the conduct of his paper.
The council also published an order, setting forth that Franklin had
published many passages, boldly reflecting upon the Government of the
province, the ministry, the churches, and the college, and that it often
contained paragraphs tending to fill the readers' minds with vanity to
the dishonor of God, and the service of good men--in consequence of
which, it was resolved that nothing should be published in the said
colony, that had not been first perused and allowed by the secretary of
the colony.
The order does not seem to have been enforced; and the first number of
the paper, after James Franklin's release, contained another essay from
the club, of increased boldness. It was headed by a sort of a text as
follows: '_And then, after they had anathematized and cursed a man to
the devil, and the devil would not, or did not, take him, then to make
the sheriff and the jailer take the devil's leavings._'
Other publications, equally liberal, and equally offensive to the civil
authorities, were brought before both Houses of the General Court, and a
joint committee was appointed to consider and report. This committee
reported that the tendency of Franklin's paper was 'to mock religion and
bring it into contempt.' They therefore recommended that James Franklin
be prohibited from publishing anything not previously examined and
approved by the secretary. The recommendation was adopted, but Franklin
again disregarded the order, for which he was prosecuted for a contempt
of the General Court; but the jury ignored the bill. He was, however,
bound to good behavior, in conformity to the order of the General Court.
These proceedings were severely attacked in the _American Weekly
Mercury_, which by that time had been established in Philadelphia; and
the Assembly of the Province of Massachusetts was denounced as being
made up of oppressors and bigots, who made religion only an engine of
destruction to the people. Their public officers were proclaimed to be
remarkable for their hypocrisy, raised up as 'a scourge in the hands of
the Almighty for the sins of the people.'
These attacks were undoubtedly written by the club in Boston and sent to
Philadelphia for publication. But neither the club nor James Franklin
would submit to the order of the Court; and for the purpose of evading
it, the name of James was taken out of the paper, and that of Benjamin
substituted. The latter was then a minor, and this was the first
introduction of his name into public life. But though a poor printer's
lad, the name thus first used as a shield for others who were behind the
curtains, has since challenged the world for illustrious deeds of his
own.
With this change of the name of the publisher, came a new prospectus,
probably the first effort of the kind, of the then youthful philosopher.
This prospectus was rather an odd one, as will be seen by the following
extract: 'The main design of this weekly will be to entertain the town
with the most comical and diverting incidents of human life; which in so
large a place as Boston will not fail of a universal exemplification.
Nor shall we be wanting to fill up these papers with a grateful
interspersion of more serious morals, which may be drawn from the most
ludicrous and odd parts of human life.'
The character of the paper, however, does not appear to have been
changed for the better by the change of names. It was continued in the
name of Benjamin Franklin some time after he had left it; but the
members of the club at length grew wearied with the labor, and the paper
expired in 1727. James Franklin then removed to Rhode Island, and
established the first newspaper in that State, at Newport.
It remains to notice but one more of the early Boston editors, who seems
to have been an odd fish--somewhat witty, but, to use a homely proverb,
'as rough as a rat-catcher's dog.' He first established the _Boston
Weekly Rehearsal_, in 1731, and afterward the _Boston Evening Post_. His
name was Thomas Fleet. Massachusetts was then a slaveholding country,
and Fleet owned several negroes, two of whom he instructed in the art of
printing. Their names were Pompey and Cæsar--the only two _Romans_, I
believe, who ever belonged to the printing fraternity. These honest
fellows lived and printed until after the war of the Revolution, having
become freemen by the Constitution of Massachusetts of 1780. Fleet was
droll and witty in the conduct of his paper, especially in his
advertisements. Witness the following advertisement of one of his negro
women for sale: 'To be sold, by the printer of this paper, the very best
negro woman in this town, who has had the small pox and the measles; is
as hearty as a horse, as brisk as a bird, will work like a beaver.'
There was a common evil existing in those days which, it is to be
feared, has now become chronic. People were prone to omit paying for
their newspapers. Fleet had often to complain of this crying sin, even
against men of great religious professions. On one occasion he read them
quite a severe lesson upon their injustice and oppression in this
respect. 'Every one,' says he, 'thinks he has a right to read news, but
few find themselves inclined to pay for it. 'Tis a great pity a soil
that will bear _piety_ so well, should not produce a tolerable crop of
common honesty.'
It is, moreover, slanderously reported in the ancient chronicles, that
Fleet was not blessed with the most beautiful and sweet-tempered wife
and daughters in Boston. On one occasion he invited a friend to dine
with him on _pouts_, a kind of fish then esteemed a great delicacy, and
of which he knew his friend to be remarkably fond. His domestic matters,
however, did not move along very smoothly that morning, and when they
sat down to table, the gentleman remarked that the _pouts_ were wanting.
'Oh no,' said Fleet, 'only look at my wife and daughters!'
Twenty-one years elapsed from the establishment of a newspaper in
Boston, before William Bradford commenced the _New York Gazette_, in
October, 1725. It was printed on a half sheet of foolscap, with a large
and almost wornout type. There is a large volume of these papers in the
New York City Library, in good preservation. The advertisements do not
average more than three or four a week, and these are mostly of runaway
negroes. The ship news was diminutive enough; now and then a ship, and
some half a dozen sloops arriving and leaving in the course of the week.
Such was the daily paper published in the commercial metropolis of the
United States, one hundred and thirty-eight years ago!
Eight years after the establishment of Bradford's _Gazette_, the _New
York Weekly Journal_ was commenced by John Philip Zengar. This paper
was established for the purpose of opposing the colonial administration
of Governor Crosby, under the patronage, as was supposed, of the
Honorable Rip Van Dam, who had previously discharged the duties of the
executive office, as President of the Council. The first great libel
suit tried in New York was instituted by the Government in 1734 against
Zengar. He was imprisoned by virtue of a warrant from the Governor and
Council; and a concurrence of the House of Representatives in the
prosecution was requested. The House, however, declined. The Governor
and Council then ordered the libellous papers to be burned by the common
hangman, or whipper, near the pillory. But both the common whipper and
the common hangman were officers of the corporation, not of the Crown,
and they declined officiating at the illumination. The papers were
therefore burned by the sheriff's deputy at the order of the Governor.
An ineffectual attempt was next made to procure an indictment against
Zengar, but the grand jury refused to find a bill. The Attorney-General
was then directed to file no information against him for printing the
libels, and he was kept in prison until another term. His counsel
offered exceptions to the commissions of the judges, which the latter
not only refused to hear, but excluded his counsel, Messrs. Smith and
Alexander, from the bar. Zengar then obtained other counsel--John
Chambers, of New York, and Andrew Hamilton, of Philadelphia. The trial
at length came on, and excited great interest. The truth, under the old
English law of libel, could never be given in evidence, and was of
course excluded on the present trial. Hamilton nevertheless tried the
case with great ability. He showed the jury that they were the judges as
well of the law as of the fact, and Zengar was acquitted. The verdict
was received with cheers by the audience; and the corporation voted the
freedom of the city to Andrew Hamilton, 'for the remarkable service done
to the inhabitants of this city and colony, by his defence of the rights
of mankind and the liberty of the press.' The certificate was sent to
Mr. Hamilton by Mr. Stephen Bayard in a superb gold box, on the lid of
which were engraved the arms of the city with several classical and
appropriate mottoes.
Thus ever has power been arrayed against the liberty of the press; and
thus ever have the people been ready to sustain it.
Soon after the relinquishment of his paper by Bradford, it was resumed
by James Parker, under the double title of _The New York Gazette and
Weekly Post Boy_. In 1753, ten years afterward, Parker took a partner by
the name of William Wayman. But neither of the partners, nor both of
them together, possessed the indomitable spirit of John Philip Zengar.
Having in March, 1756, published an article reflecting upon the conduct
of the people of Ulster and Orange counties, the Assembly, entertaining
a high regard for the majesty of the people, took offence thereat, and
both the editors were taken into custody by the sergeant-at-arms. What
the precise nature of the insult upon the sovereign people of those
counties was, does not appear. But the editors behaved in a craven
manner. They acknowledged their fault, begged pardon of the House, and
paid the costs of the proceedings; in addition to all which, they gave
up the name of the author. He proved to be none other than the Rev.
Hezekiah Watkins, a missionary to the county of Ulster, residing at
Newburgh. The reverend gentleman was accordingly arrested, brought to
New York, and voted guilty of a high misdemeanor and contempt of the
authority of the House. Of what persuasion was this Mr. Watkins, does
not appear. But neither Luther, nor Calvin, nor Hugh Latimer would have
betrayed the right of free discussion as he did, by begging the pardon
of the House, standing to receive a reprimand, paying the fees, and
promising to be more circumspect in future, for the purpose of obtaining
his discharge.
This case affords the most singular instance of the exercise of the
doubtful power of punishing for what are called contempts, on record. A
court has unquestionably a right to protect itself from indignity, while
in session; and so has a legislative body, although the power of
punishing for such an offence, without trial by jury, is now gravely
questioned. But for a legislative body to extend the mantle of its
protection over its constituency in such a matter, is an exercise of
power of which it is difficult to find a parallel. Sure it is that a
people, then or now, who would elect such members to the Legislature
deserve nothing else than contempt.
The fourth paper established in New York was called the _Evening Post_.
It was commenced by Henry De Forest in 1746. It was remarkable chiefly
for stupidity, looseness of grammar, and worse orthography, and died
before it was able to go alone.
In 1752 the _New York Mercury_ was commenced, and in 1763 the title was
changed to the _New York Gazette and Weekly Mercury_. This paper was
established and published by Hugh Gaine, at the sign of the Bible and
Crown, Hanover square. It was conducted with taste and ability, and
became the best newspaper in the Colonies. In 1763, Gaine was arraigned
by the Assembly for publishing a part of its proceedings without
permission, and withal incorrectly. He was a gentleman of a kind spirit,
and never had the power to withhold an apology when it was asked. He
accordingly apologized, was reprimanded, and discharged.
As the storm of war drew on in 1775, the _Mercury_ contained a series of
patriotic papers, under the signature of the Watch Tower. But as the
British forces drew near to New York, the patriotism of Gaine began to
cool; and during the whole course of the Revolutionary war, his
_Mercury_ afforded very accurate indications of the state of the
contest. When with the Whigs, Hugh Gaine was a Whig. When with the
Royalists, he was loyal. When the contest was doubtful, equally doubtful
were the politics of Hugh Gaine. In short, he was the most perfect
pattern of the genuine non-committal. On the arrival of the British army
he removed to Newark for a while; but soon returned to the city and
published a paper devoted to the cause of the Crown. His course was a
fruitful theme for the wags of the day; and at the peace, a poetical
petition from Gaine to the Senate of the State, setting forth his life
and conduct, was got up with a good deal of talent and humor. His paper
ceased with the war.
Another paper, called the _New York Gazette_, was commenced by Wayman,
the former associate of Parker. In 1766, Wayman was arrested for a
contempt of the Assembly, upon no other charge than that of two
typographical errors in printing the speech of Sir Henry Moore, the
Governor of the Colony. One of these errors consisted in printing the
word NEVER for _ever_; and the other was the omission of the word NO, by
reason of which the meaning of the sentence was reversed. Wayman
protested that it was a mere inadvertency; but so tenacious were
legislators in those days of 'privilege,' that an investigation was
instituted; but in the end the transgressor was discharged from 'durance
vile,' on condition of acknowledging his fault, asking pardon, and
promising to behave more circumspectly for the future.
The Assembly, however, was more rigid in this case, from the suspicion
entertained that one of the errors was intentional; but such was clearly
not the fact.
Nothing can be more annoying to authors and publishers than errors of
the press; and yet those who are unskilled in the art of printing, can
scarcely conceive the difficulty of avoiding them. The art of proof
reading with perfect accuracy is an high and difficult attainment. To
arrive at ordinary accuracy in a daily newspaper, requires the reading
and correction of at least two proofs; and even then an editor, who has
not become case hardened, by long practice and long endurance, will
often be shocked at the transformation of sense into nonsense, or the
murdering of one of his happiest conceits, or the plucking of the point
out of one of his neatest paragraphs, by a typographical error.
In the early stages of the art of printing, typographical errors were
far more numerous than in books of modern execution, where there is a
real effort to attain to ordinary accuracy. It was then very common for
a volume of ordinary size to contain page upon page of _errata_ at the
close. One of the most remarkable instances of this kind was the curious
treatise of Edward Leigh, 'On Religion and Learning,' published in 1656.
At the close of the work were two folio pages of corrections in very
minute characters. The author himself complains as follows: 'We have no
Plantier or Stevens (two celebrated printers of another day) amongst us;
and it is no easy task to specify the chiefest _errata_; false
interpunctions there are too many; here a letter wanting, there a letter
too much; a syllable too much, one letter for another; words joined,
which should be severed; words misplaced, chronological mistakes, &c.'
Leigh's case, however, was not so hard as that of a monk, who wrote and
published the 'Anatomy of the Mass,' in 1561. The work itself contained
only one hundred and seventy-two pages, to which were added FIFTEEN
pages of _errata_. The pious monk wrote an apology for these
inaccuracies, which, if true, proved that his case was indeed a cruel
one--clearly proving, moreover, that even if the devil had originally
assisted Doctor Faustus and Gutenberg in the invention, his brimstone
majesty very soon became sick of his bargain. The monk avers that he
wrote the work to circumvent the artifices of Satan, and that the devil,
ever on the alert, undertook to circumvent him. For this purpose Satan,
in the first place, caused the MS. to be drenched in a kennel, until it
was rendered comparatively illegible; and, in the second place, he
compelled the printers to perpetrate more typographical blunders than
had ever before been made in a book of no greater magnitude. But the
malice of Lucifer did not end here. He compelled the priest to act under
his influence while making the corrections!
But they were not all unintentional errors of the press in those days
that appeared such. There were words and phrases interdicted by the Pope
and the Inquisition; and sometimes by adroit management the interdicted
word, though not inserted in the text, could be arrived at in the table
of _errata_.
It is a singular fact, that the edition of the Latin Vulgate, by Pope
Sixtus the Fifth, although his Holiness carefully superintended every
sheet as it passed through the press, has ever remained without a rival
in typographical inaccuracy. Still more curious was the fact, that the
Pope, in the plenitude of pontifical infallibility, prefixed to the
first volume a bull of excommunication against any and every printer,
who in reprinting the work, should ever make any alteration in the text.
To the amazement of the public, however, when the Bible appeared, it
swarmed with errors too numerous for an errata. In a multitude of
instances it was necessary to reprint whole passages in scraps, and
paste over the incorrect verses. Great efforts were made to call in the
edition; and it is now only to be found among rare collections, as a
monument of literary blunders. If the Devil ever troubles himself about
the correction of proofsheets, he was much more likely to be standing at
the Pope's elbow while the Bible was printing, than to be bothering his
head in regard to the poor monk's mass book to which allusion has been
made.
Typographical errors happen in a variety of ways; sometimes by
carelessness, sometimes by the ignorance and stupidity of the printer,
and sometimes by design. Occurring in either way, they are often
ludicrous, and sometimes productive of positive evil. A few examples of
each variety will suffice.
In the fine description of the Pantheon, by Akenside, the expressive
phrase 'SEVERELY great,' not being understood by the printer, who
undertook to think for himself, was printed '_serenely_ great.'
An edition of the Bible was once published in England, in which the word
_not_ was omitted in the seventh commandment. For this offence, whether
by carelessness or by design, the archbishop imposed the heaviest
penalty ever recorded in the annals of literary history. The edition was
required to be called in and destroyed, and a fine imposed of £20,000
sterling.
There was a more severe punishment than even this awarded in Germany
once, for a wilful alteration of the sacred text. It seems that in Gen.
iii. 16, the Hebrew word which has been rendered _husband_ in the
English translation, is _lord_ in the German. It is the passage in which
God tells Eve: 'And thy desire shall be to thy husband, who shall rule
over thee.' The German word signifying lord is HERR; and in the same
language the word NARR answers for fool. The case was this: A new
edition of the Bible was printing at the house of a widow, whose husband
had been a printer. The spirited lady, not liking the subordinate
station of her sex, and having acquired a little knowledge of the art,
watched an opportunity by night to enter the printing office; and while
the form was lying on the press, she carefully drew out the letters _H_
and _e_, and inserted in their stead the letters _Na_. The outrage was
not discovered in season, and the Bible went forth declaring that man
should be the woman's fool. Such, probably, is too often the case, but
the gentlemen would not like to see it in print. Gravely, however, the
person committing such an offence must needs stand in awful apprehension
of the fearful curse denounced in the conclusion of the Apocalypse.
An edition of the _Catholic Missal_ was once published in France, in
which the accidental substitution merely of the letter _u_ for an _a_,
was the cause of a shocking blunder, changing, as it did, the word
_calotte_ (an ecclesiastical cap or mitre) into _culotte_, which, as my
readers are aware, means, in drawing-room English, a gentleman's small
clothes. The error occurred in one of the directions for conducting the
service, where it is said: "Here the priest will take off his
_culotte_!"
Among the errors that have occurred through design, was one which
happened in the old _Hudson Balance_, when the Rev. Dr. Croswell was the
editor of that ancient and excellent journal. A merchant by the name of
Peter Cole chanced to get married. Cole, however, was very unpopular,
and was not one of the brightest intelligences even of those days. The
bride, too, was a little more no than yes, in her intellectual
furnishment. It used to be a common practice in the country, in sending
marriages to the press, to tack on a bit of poetry in the shape of some
sweet hymenial sentimentality. In compliance with this custom, the
groomsman added a line or two from one of the poets, where the bard
speaks of the bliss of the marriage state, 'when _heart_ meets _heart_
reciprocally soft.' The wicked boys in the printing office, however,
corrected the poet, making the stanza read thus:
'When _head_ meets _head_, reciprocally soft.'
Another instance, more ludicrous still, was the following: A lad in a
printing office, who knew more about type setting than he did of the
Greek mythology, in looking over a poem they were printing, came upon
the name of _Hecate_, one of the lady divinities of the lower world,
occurring in a line like this:
'Shall reign the _Hecate_ of the deepest hell.'
The boy, thinking he had discovered an error, ran to the master printer,
and inquired eagerly whether there was an _e_ in cat. 'Why, no, you
blockhead,' was the reply. Away went the boy to the press room, and
extracted the objectionable letter. But fancy the horror of both poet
and publisher, when the poem appeared with the line:
'Shall reign the HE CAT of the deepest hell.'
But let a form of types, arranged either for book or newspaper, be ever
so correct when sent to the press, errors not unfrequently happen from
yet another cause, viz.: the liability of now and then a letter to drop
out, when the form has not been properly adjusted, or locked
sufficiently tight in the iron frame which by printers is called a
_chase_. How important the loss of a single letter may become is seen by
the following example. A printer putting to press a form of the Common
Prayer, the _c_ in the following passage dropped out unperceived by him:
'We shall all be CHANGED in the twinkling of an eye.' When the book
appeared, to the horror of the devout worshipper, the passage read: 'We
shall all be HANGED in the twinkling of an eye.'
Sometimes a whole page or a whole form drops through, and falls into
what printers call _pi_--that is, a mass of all sorts of letters, stops,
marks, points, spaces, forming a jumble of everything--and involving the
dire necessity of assorting over the whole mass, letter by letter. In
isolated printing houses, where they have but few workmen, and
assistance is not near, such a catastrophe is a serious matter. An
instance of this kind, which happened many years ago in the county of
Oneida, is in point. An editor was putting his paper to press (for in
the country, editor and printer are often combined) when down fell his
form--a wreck of matter and a crush of words. There was no other
printing office nearer than Albany, and it was impossible for him to
rearrange his types for the paper that week. But his paper must come out
at all hazards, on account of the legal advertisements on the first
side. He therefore hit upon the expedient of publishing his paper with a
blank page, inserting in large letters, '_Omitted for want of room_!'
But, after all, when it is considered of how many separate and minute
pieces of metal a book form or the page of a newspaper is composed, the
wonder is that errors of the press are not far more numerous than they
are. A single page of one of our largest papers cannot contain less than
150,000 separate pieces of metal, each of which must be nicely adjusted
in its own proper place, or error and confusion will ensue.
But to return from this long digression of the early newspaper press of
New York. A paper called the _New York Chronicle_ was published during
the years 1761-'62, and then died. The _New York Pacquet_ was next
published, in 1763, but how long it lived is not known. In 1766, Holt
established the _New York Journal, or General Advertiser_, which in the
course of the year was connected with Parker's _Gazette_, the _Journal_,
however, being printed as a separate paper. John Holt edited the first
Whig paper published in New York; nor, as in the case of Hugh Gaine, did
his patriotism come and go as danger approached or receded from the
city. In 1774, Holt discarded the King's arms, and took that engraving
from the title of his paper, substituting in place of it, a serpent cut
in pieces, with the expressive motto, 'Unite or Die.' In January, 1775,
the snake was united and coiled, with the tail in its mouth, forming a
double ring: within the coil was a pillar standing on Magna Charta and
surmounted with the cap of liberty: the pillar on each side was
supported by six arms and hands, figurative of the colonies. On the
body of the snake, beginning at the head, were the following lines:
'United now, alive and free,
Firm on this basis Liberty shall stand;
And thus supported, ever bless our land,
Till Time becomes Eternity.'
The designs both of 1774 and 1775 were excellent--the first, by a
visible illustration, showing the disjointed state of the colonies; and
the second presenting an emblem of their strength when united. Holt
maintained his integrity to the last. When the British troops took
possession of New York, he removed to Esopus, now Kingston, and revived
his paper. On the burning of that village by the enemy in 1777, he
removed to Poughkeepsie, and published the _Journal_ there until the
peace of 1783, when he returned to New York and resumed his paper under
the title of _The Independent Gazette; or, The New York Journal
Revived_. Holt was an unflinching patriot, but did not long survive the
achievement of his country's freedom. In 1784 he gave his paper a new
typographical dress, and commenced publishing it twice a week, being the
second paper thus frequently published in the United States. He died,
however, early in that year. The _Journal_ was continued for a time by
the widow; but after undergoing several changes of name and
proprietorship, it passed into the hands of Francis Greenleaf in 1787,
by whom it was converted into a daily paper, called the _Argus, or
Greenleaf's New Daily Advertiser_. A semi-weekly paper was also
published by Greenleaf, called the _New York Journal and Patriotic
Register_. Mr. Greenleaf was a practical printer and an estimable and
enterprising man. He fell a victim to the yellow fever in 1798. The
paper was continued by his widow for a little while, but ultimately fell
into the hands of that celebrated political gladiator, James Cheetham.
The _Independent Reflector_ was a paper commenced by James Parker in
1752, and continued for two years. Among its contributors were Governor
Livingston, the Rev. Aaron Burr (father of the distinguished and unhappy
statesman of that name), William Alexander (afterward Lord Stirling),
and William Smith, the historian of New York. The tone of the paper was
unsuited to the ears of the men in power: it was free and fearless in
its discussions; and means were found to silence it. The belief was that
Parker was suborned to refuse longer to publish it.
The celebrated James Rivington began his paper, under the formidable
title of _Rivington's New York Gazette; or, The Connecticut, New Jersey,
Hudson's River, and Quebec Weekly Advertiser_, in 1733. The imprint read
as follows: 'Printed at his _ever open_ and uninfluenced press, fronting
Hanover Square.' It is well known that Rivington was the royal printer
during the whole of the Revolutionary War; and it is amusing to trace
the degrees by which his toryism manifested itself as the storm gathered
over the country. The title of the paper originally contained a cut of a
large ship under sail. In 1774, the ship sailed out of sight, and the
King's arms appeared in its place; and in 1775 the words _ever open and
uninfluenced_ were withdrawn from the imprint. These symptoms were
disliked by the patriots of the country, and in November, 1775, a party
of armed men from Connecticut entered the city on horseback, beset his
habitation, broke into his printing office, destroyed his presses, and
threw his types into _pi_. They then carried them away, melted, and cast
them into bullets. Rivington's paper was now effectually
stopped--'omitted for want of room'--until the British army took
possession of the city. Rivington himself meantime had been to England,
where he procured a new printing apparatus, and returning, established
'_The New York Royal Gazette_, published by James Rivington, printer to
the King's most excellent Majesty.' During the remaining five years of
the war, Rivington's paper was the most distinguished for its lies, and
its loyalty, of any other journal in America. It was published twice a
week; and four other newspapers were published in New York, at the same
time, under the sanction of the British officers--one arranged for each
day, so that, in fact, they had the advantages of a daily paper. It has
been said, and believed, that Rivington, after all, was a secret traitor
to the crown, and, in fact, the secret informant of Washington. Be this,
however, as it may, as the war drew to a close, and the prospects of the
King's arms began to darken, Rivington's loyalty began to cool down; and
by 1787 the King's arms had disappeared and the title of the paper, no
more the _Royal Gazette_, was simply _Rivington's New York Gazette and
Universal Advertiser_. But although he labored to play the republican,
he was distrusted by the people, and his paper was relinquished in the
course of that year.
In 1775, Samuel Loudon commenced his _New York Pacquet and American
Advertiser_. When New York fell into the hands of the enemy, Loudon
removed to Fishkill, and published his paper there. At the close of the
war he returned to the city, and began a daily paper, which was
continued many years.
We have thus sketched the history of printing, and of the newspaper
press in Boston and New York, from the introduction of the art, down to
the period of the Revolution. From these brief sketches, an idea may be
formed of the germ of the newspaper press which is now one of the chief
glories of our country. The public press of no other country equals that
of the United States, either on the score of its moral or its
intellectual power, or for the exertion of that manly independence of
thought and action, which ought to characterize the press of a free
people. What a prophet would the great wizard novelist of Scotland have
been, had the prediction which he put into the mouth of Galeotti
Martivalle, the astrologer of Louis the Eleventh, in the romance of
Quentin Durward, been written at the period of its date! Louis, who has
justly been held as the Tiberius of France, is represented as paying a
visit to the mystic workshop of the astrologer, whom his Majesty
discovered to be engaged in the then newly invented art of multiplying
manuscripts by the intervention of machinery--in other words, the
apparatus of printing.
'Can things of such mechanical and terrestrial import,' inquired the
king, 'interest the thoughts of one before whom Heaven has unrolled her
own celestial volumes?'
'My brother,' replied the astrologer, 'believe me, that in considering
the consequences of this invention, I read with as certain augury, as by
any combination of the heavenly bodies, the most awful and portentous
changes. When I reflect with what slow and limited supplies the stream
of science hath hitherto descended to us; how difficult to be obtained
by those most ardent in its search; how certain to be neglected by all
who love their ease; how liable to be diverted or altogether dried up,
by the invasions of barbarisms; can I look forward without wonder and
astonishment, to the lot of a succeeding generation, on whom knowledge
will descend like the first and second rain, uninterrupted, unabated,
unbounded; fertilizing some grounds, and overflowing others; changing
the whole form of social life; establishing and overthrowing religions;
erecting and destroying kingdoms--'
'Hold, hold, Galeotti,' cried the king, 'shall these changes come in our
time?'
'No, my royal brother,' replied Martivalle; 'this invention may be
likened to a young tree, which is now newly planted, but shall, in
succeeding generations, bear fruit as fatal, yet as precious, as that of
the Garden of Eden; the knowledge, namely, of good and evil.'
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote A: For the benefit of the curious reader, I would state that a
perfect file of the _Boston News Letter_ is still preserved in the
Worcester Historical Library. There is also an imperfect file in the New
York Historical Society Library.]
RECONNOISSANCE NEAR FORT MORGAN,
AND
EXPEDITION IN LAKE PONTCHARTRAIN AND PEARL RIVER, BY THE MORTAR FLOTILLA
OF CAPTAIN D. D. PORTER, U. S. N.
In a former article, on the surrender of Forts Jackson and St. Philip,
which appeared in the May number of THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, allusion
was made to the efficiency of the mortar flotilla, to which the Coast
Survey party, under charge of Assistant F. H. Gerdes, was attached, by
special direction of Flag-officer D. G. Farragut. This party rendered
hydrographic and also naval service, where such was required, their
steamer, the Sachem, being used by the commander of the flotilla like
any other vessel under his command. Captain Porter, in his letters to
the Superintendent of the Coast Survey, writes, under date of April 29,
1862: "Mr. Gerdes no doubt has written to you and sent you plans. I keep
him pretty hard at work. The times require it," &c.
_May 16th_.--"I have not spared the Sachem, but treated her like the
rest of the vessels, putting her under fire when it was necessary. I
look upon the Sachem in the same light as I would upon a topographical
party in the army, and if I lose her in such employment, she will have
paid well for herself."
After the surrender of the Mississippi forts, the mortar fleet met at
Ship Island, and the Sachem being directed to join it, arrived there on
the 7th of May. Under instructions from the commander, the steamer
division of the flotilla stood out for Mobile bar on the 8th, and came
to anchor the same evening under the lee of Sand Key, viz.:
_Harriet Lane_, Com. J. M. WAINWRIGHT, flagship
_Westfield_, Commander W. B. RENSHAW.
_Owasco_, Commander JOHN GUEST.
_Clifton_, Lieut. Com. CHARLES BALDWIN.
_Jackson_, Lieut. Com. S. WOODWORTH.
_Sachem_, As't U.S. Coast Survey, F. H. GERDES.
It was Captain Porter's design to assemble his mortar vessels, which had
started the day previous from Ship Island, at the outer bar of Mobile
Bay. He intended then to cross the bar on their arrival, and to come to
anchor inside at given distances, for the bombardment of Forts Morgan
and Gaines. Those distances were to be ascertained and minutely
determined by the Coast Survey party. Unfortunately a very severe
northeast storm had been raging for a day or two, which made all headway
for sailing vessels impossible, sweeping most of them far out to sea.
The commander directed the Coast Survey party to sound the bar, and to
plant buoys at the extreme points of the shoals. Messrs. Oltmanns and
Harris, each in a separate boat, were sent to perform this duty, and
accomplished it by 10 o'clock A. M. The steamer Clifton accompanied the
Coast Survey boats for protection, and was running up and down while the
spar buoys were planted on the east and west spit, but, caught by the
current, she drifted too close to the east bank inside the bar, and
grounded hard and fast, just when the attempt was made to bring her
round. The tide at that time was ebbing. All efforts to clear her were
unsuccessful, and even the powerful steamer Jackson, which was sent to
her relief by the commander, had to give up the attempt and leave her
exposed to the fire of Fort Morgan. The enemy opened on her directly
after she grounded, and some of the shot and shell from the fort struck
within twenty yards of her bows. Captain Porter then suggested her
relief by the Sachem, which, on account of her light draft, might
approach nearer than the Jackson. After clearing her screw, which had
got entangled by some hanging gear, the Sachem got under way, and was
anchored alongside and to the southward of the Clifton just before dusk.
She let go both her heavy anchors, to prevent any dragging from the
great strain that must naturally result from an effort to haul off the
grounded steamer. A nine-inch hawser was sent to her, one end of the
hawser being made fast to the Sachem. The tide had begun to rise by this
time, and fortunately at the first strain on the hawser the Clifton
floated, and was quickly drawn alongside of the Sachem. There was no
time to spare, as the shell and shot from the fort fell very thick; the
Clifton therefore got up steam at once, and moved out of range. The
Sachem remained to get up her anchors which had been slipped, and was so
engaged until 10 o'clock P. M., when she came to alongside of the
Harriet Lane. Captain Porter, as well as Captain Baldwin, expressed
great satisfaction with the cheerful readiness and seamanship which were
shown by the party on the Sachem.
On the 10th of May, at sunrise, it blew a gale from the east, and as
there appeared no chance whatever for the mortar schooners to reach
Mobile bar, Captain Porter signalled the steam division to return to
Ship Island. The Sachem was the second vessel under way, and although
comparatively slow, she had now the advantage of a full suit of sails.
Early in the evening all the steamers were at anchor again at Ship
Island Spit. In the night, between the 11th and 12th of May, the Harriet
Lane returned with the commander, who had been in the mean time to
Pensacola, and had there taken possession of Fort McRea, the navy yard,
and the city, all of which were evacuated a few days previous. Captain
Porter at first intended to send Assistant Gerdes, with the Sachem, to
Pensacola, to replace the buoys and beacons which had been destroyed by
the enemy. It was afterward decided that the party should accompany
several of the steamers on an expedition in Lake Pontchartrain and the
Pearl river, and in consideration of the light draft of the Coast Survey
steamer, and the local information possessed by her officers, he
directed that the Sachem should take the lead, and be closely followed
by the Westfield, the Clifton, and the Jackson. Early in the morning of
the 13th of May, he made signal from the flag ship for the division to
start, and at 6 A. M. the steamers were abreast of Cat Island. The
Sachem took them safely over the extensive flats, and although there
were at times not more than six inches of water to spare, neither of the
vessels ever touched the bottom. In the vicinity of Grand Island, a
vessel was seen by the lookout, and on reporting to the senior officer
of the expedition, Captain W. B. Renshaw, he directed the Sachem to give
chase. A gun soon brought her to, and Mr. Harris was sent on board of
her, where, on examination, he found no name, no ensign, no papers, in
short, nothing but several men. The vessel was taken in tow, and
delivered to Captain Renshaw, who despatched her to Ship Island. The
steamers got under way again and steamed through the Rigolets, passing
Fort Pike, which was then garrisoned by national troops. After entering
Lake Pontchartrain in the evening, a steamer was seen some five or six
miles distant, and the commanding officer, having ascertained from the
Coast Survey party the sufficient depth thereabout in the lake, ordered
the Clifton to follow the Sachem. At half past six P. M. a schooner was
brought to by the leading vessel, and fifteen minutes later, another.
Both were boarded by Messrs. Oltmanns and Harris, and found to be
trading vessels with passports from General Butler. When the steamers
passed the town of Mandeville, the inhabitants hoisted a large white
flag high above the trees; having, probably, no American ensign. After
communicating with the United States gunboat New London, all four
vessels came to anchor at the Chifuncte river. It was ascertained that
the New London was engaged in ferreting out the enemy's vessels in that
river, and therefore Captain Renshaw determined to start next morning
for the Pearl river, which he intended to examine. At five o'clock A. M.
on the 14th of May, the division got under way, led as on the day before
by the Sachem. At ten o'clock, the Jackson, getting out of range,
grounded and signalized for assistance. The Sachem was ordered to her
relief; but in the mean time, the Coast Survey party had furnished
information such as would bring the other steamers safely to the mouth
of Pearl river, by keeping along the southern bank in the Rigolets. When
the Sachem came up with the Jackson, her captain informed Mr. Gerdes
that as the transport boat Whiteman (a prize) was expected to pass soon,
she would be expected to lighten and tow the steamer off. The Sachem
therefore moved on, and reached the Westfield and Clifton at ten
o'clock, at anchor near the mouth of Pearl river.
A row of stockades had been set by the enemy quite across that river,
leaving only an opening for vessels to pass up and down. This
obstruction consisted of heavy pieces of timber inserted vertically in
the mud bed, and joined by cross pieces, to which were chained a number
of logs so as to float off at right angles. The length extended about
three quarters of a mile, and vessels could pass only through the
opening, and under the fire of the guns, when Fort Pike was held by the
enemy. The expediency of this device is somewhat questionable, as it
plainly designated the otherwise intricate channel, and might have
enabled a swift steamer to run the batteries without danger of being
detained on the extensive mud flats.
At eight o'clock on the morning of the 15th of May, the three steamers
weighed anchor, and stood up Pearl river, the Westfield and the Clifton
following in the wake of the Sachem. At eleven o'clock, Pearlington was
reached, a straggling village. Here two schooners and a small steamer
(the William Hancock) were found, and boarded by Mr. Harris of the
Sachem; but when it was proved that they had not been engaged in aiding
the rebel cause, they were not further molested. The steamers of the
mortar flotilla ascended the river about thirteen miles above
Pearlington, when the stream became quite narrow, and the turns so
abrupt, that further progress for the larger boats seemed to be
impracticable. Captains Renshaw and Baldwin therefore anchored their
vessels, and went on board of the Sachem, which, on account of her
lighter draught and less beam, could ascend higher, and was besides
easier to manage. While pushing on with her, it was frequently necessary
to fasten her stern to the trees, and to tow her bow around at the very
abrupt turns in the river. Within three miles of Gainesville, where the
stream became extremely narrow and crooked, with the shores on both
sides thickly wooded, the Sachem encountered a very sudden ambuscade,
and received a heavy fire of musketry from the eastern bank. This was
immediately returned from the vessel by some sixty rifle and musket
shots, and discharges of small arms were continued in rapid succession
from both sides for some time. The executive officer of the Sachem, Mr.
J. G. Oltmanns, of the United States Coast Survey, while on the
forecastle directing the crew, was dangerously wounded by a rifle ball
in the breast, and fell. He was at once removed to the cabin, and Acting
Assistant Harris directed to take his place. This he did instantly, and
remained in that position during the whole of the subsequent cruise. As
soon as the long guns of the Sachem and the Parrott rifle 20-pounder
could be brought to bear, the thicket was cleared by discharges of
canister and grape, and the fire of the enemy was silenced. No other
casualties occurred on board of the steamer, but many of the crew
narrowly escaped harm, particularly those who were near the wheel house.
The sailing master and the steersman had their clothes pierced by
bullets, and the sides and decks of the steamer were similarly marked in
many places. The river, becoming still narrower and more crooked above
Gainesville, it was found entirely impossible to force the Sachem higher
up. Captain Renshaw therefore directed her to be turned down stream. In
this manoeuvre, much difficulty was encountered. It succeeded only by
cutting the overhanging trees on shore, then backing her into the bank,
fastening her stern, and towing her bow around with the boats. While
turning thus, one of the Sachem's boats and the Clifton's gig were
smashed in the floating logs, and the flagstaff was carried away by
hanging branches of the forest. The national ensign, however, was set on
the main, and the steamer got finally clear, and stood down the river to
rejoin the Westfield and the Clifton. On coming alongside, Mr. Oltmanns
was at once transferred, by the kind suggestion of Captain Baldwin, to
the Clifton, and being made as comfortable as circumstances admitted,
was put under care of Dr. Nestell, the surgeon of the boat. The
warm-hearted commander of that vessel will always retain the sincere
gratitude of every member of the Coast Survey party for his endeavors in
behalf of their brave associate. The doctor probed the wound of Mr.
Oltmanns, but was unable to discover the ball, which, by the by, was
extracted six months later, by Dr. Lieberman, in Washington City, after
it had gradually moved from the breast to the right shoulder blade. Dr.
Nestell had no great hopes at the time he took charge of the wounded
officer, but thought that with proper care and attention, it might be
possible for him to recover. At eight o'clock P. M. the vessels anchored
in Lake Borgne, and the next morning, the 16th of May, the whole
expedition returned to Ship Island. Captain (now Admiral) Porter visited
Mr. Oltmanns, and made suitable arrangements at once for his removal to
his friends in New York in the spacious and comfortable steamer Baltic,
Captain Comstock.
Between the 16th and 22d of May, the boilers of the Sachem were cleaned,
and some repairs made in her machinery, at the end of which time Mr.
Gerdes was directed by the commander to repair to the Southwest Pass of
the Mississippi, and there to replace the missing buoys and stakes, and
to survey the entrance.
Leaving Ship Island on the 22d of May, the Sachem entered the Pass à
l'Outre mouth of the Mississippi, and reached Fort Jackson on the 23d in
the evening. Here the can buoys and five or six anchors and chains which
had been removed by the confederates were found, and brought down and
replaced by the Sachem in their original locations at the Southwest
Pass. This important inlet of the Mississippi, at present the most
accessible and best, was surveyed, a manuscript chart was made by the
officers of the Coast Survey, and copies of the same were sent at once
to Flag-officer Farragut, Captain Porter, Major-General Butler, and to
the Coast Survey office in Washington; at the latter place the chart was
lithographed immediately, and extensively distributed in New York and
New Orleans.
When Flag-officer Farragut directed Captain Porter to ascend the
Mississippi with his mortar flotilla as far up as Vicksburg, the party
in the Sachem was again called for. The vessel got under way on the 8th
of June, in charge of Acting Assistant Joseph E. Harris, to whom Mr.
Gerdes had transferred the command, but unfortunately a few hours after
starting she broke her shaft by striking a snag, and was entirely
disabled, until extensively repaired. She was towed from Baton Rouge,
where the accident happened, to New Orleans, and there turned over to
Captain Morris, of the U. S. Navy, commanding the sloop of war
Pensacola. The officers and the crew of the Sachem were returned to New
York in a U. S. transport steamer. Thus ended the expedition of the
Coast Survey party attached in 1862 to the mortar flotilla.
The intercourse and association of the navy officers with the officers
of the Coast Survey during the eventful days of the siege of Fort
Jackson, the reconnoissance to Mobile, the expedition in Lake
Pontchartrain and Pearl river, up to the time the Sachem was disabled
from further participation in the operations of that campaign, had
cemented warm feelings of attachment and sincere friendship, and it was
with a heavy heart the writer of these lines bade farewell to his
honored commander and friend of twenty years standing, and to his other
associates in the dangers and triumphs of that ever memorable campaign.
Porter now pursues his glorious career as rear admiral of the national
navy, and his name has been since, and will be forever identified with
Vicksburg, Arkansas Post, Red river, and Grand Gulf. Commanders Richard
Wainwright, of the Hartford; Jonathan Wainwright, of the Harriet Lane;
W. B. Renshaw, of the Westfield, and Lieutenant Lee, also of the Harriet
Lane, have passed away from their friends and associates, consecrating
their lives gloriously in our country's cause, but deplored and lamented
by their friends. Mr. Oltmanns recovered slowly from his wound, and has
served since on topographical duty for the Army of the Potomac. He is
now with the Engineer Department of General Banks in Louisiana, where he
has proved very useful, and so far eminently successful. Mr. Harris, who
is esteemed and appreciated by the officers of the navy and of the Coast
Survey, has gone back to his legitimate occupation in the office of the
Northwestern Boundary. Messrs. Halter and Bowie remain in the Coast
Survey, and are now employed in its duties.
THE CRUEL CARPENTER.
Lay, darling, thy hand on this heart of mine!
Ah! hear'st thou that knocking within the shrine?
A cruel carpenter dwells there, and he
Is busily making a coffin for me!
There's hammering and pounding by day and by night;
All sleep from my eyelids he scares in affright:
Ah, Master Carpenter, work still more fast,
That so I may slumber in peace at last!
--HEINE.
DIARY OF FRANCES KRASINSKA;
OR, LIFE IN POLAND DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Shrove Tuesday, _February 26th_.
Our little Matthias says: 'One hundred horsemen despatched after _Miss
Barbara_ could never reach her.' She is now her ladyship the starostine.
How can I ever describe all the entertainment and pleasure we have had
during this festival? I was as much bewildered as charmed, and must
endeavor to arrange my ideas, that I may proceed in an orderly manner.
Early yesterday morning we went to the church of Lissow; the bride and
groom made their confession, and then took communion at high mass. They
knelt before the high altar, and after mass, the parish priest gave them
the benediction. I was much pleased when I saw that Barbara wore the
pretty morning dress I had made for her: it fits her exactly. But as it
was excessively cold, she was obliged to throw over it a white satin
pelisse, lined with the fur of the white fox, which somewhat rumpled the
morning dress. Her head was charmingly arranged--a white blonde veil
hung down to her feet.
Immediately after their return to the castle they breakfasted, and the
repast was served with great magnificence.
After breakfast, Barbara went up into her room, where my mother,
accompanied by twelve ladies, presided at her toilette. She wore a dress
of white satin with watered stripes, and trimmed with Brabant blonde,
embroidered with silver. Her dress had a long train. A bunch of rosemary
was fastened at her side, and a few sprigs of the same flower were
placed in her hair, secured by a gold clasp, on which were engraved
verses containing the date and day of the marriage, and various
felicitations appropriate to the occasion.
Barbara looked very handsome in this attire, but my mother did not wish
her to wear any jewels. She believes that wearing them at such a time is
a presage of misfortune, and said: 'She who wears jewels on her wedding
day, will weep bitter tears all the rest of her life.' Poor Barbara
needed no more, for she had already wept so much that her eyes were all
swollen. In the bouquet placed by my mother at Barbara's side were a
gold ducat, coined on the day of her birth, a morsel of bread, and a
little salt. Such is the customary usage, and it is said that a bride so
provided will never lack either of these three articles of the first
necessity. Besides these, still another symbolic precaution is taken: a
tiny piece of sugar is added, to sweeten the dolors of marriage.
Twelve young girls crowned with flowers, myself among them, preceded
Barbara into the saloon. The eldest of our band had just finished her
eighteenth year.
The colonel and the Abbé Vincent awaited us near the entrance of the
great hall; we were met by the starost with twelve gentlemen. A broad
platter, filled with flowers, was borne behind them: each bouquet was
composed of rosemary, myrtle, and lemon and orange blossoms, tied up
with knots of white ribbon. We young ladies carried gold and silver pins
to fasten them on with.
My mother and the old ladies, who presided over the ceremonies, had
instructed us in the proper method of conducting ourselves, and in all
the forms necessary to be observed, in order that no one might be
wounded or offended. We understood their instructions perfectly, but by
the time we had fully entered the saloon, all was forgotten.
We began by putting on our bouquets in the most proper and solemn
manner, but were soon seized by an irresistible desire to laugh. We
committed a thousand follies and blunders, but were readily pardoned;
and I cannot say I was surprised at that, for I had already remarked
that no one bears malice toward young girls, especially when they are
pretty.
Our gayety soon infected all the rest: married people, the old and
young, those who had no possible claim to a bouquet, begged one of us,
and we gave them with a good grace. In a few moments the whole pyramid
of flowers had disappeared; the gold and silver pins were all disposed
of, and we were forced to have recourse to ordinary ones; but as it was
we who gave them, they were very well received. In short, every one was
enchanted, and the hall bloomed like a garden with the flowers scattered
around in every direction.
I suddenly perceived that our little Matthias had retired to a corner of
the hall, and was looking very sad: he had received no bouquet. As I
approached him, he said to me, in a low and sentimental tone of voice:
'All the young ladies have forgotten me, and I am not surprised: but
you, Frances, you, whom I have carried in my arms--you, whom I have
loved since your infancy--you should not have forgotten me.... Ah! it
makes me very sad, for I foresee that even were you to marry the prince
royal, I should not be at your wedding.'
I blushed to my very eyes: our poor Matthias was quite right. I ran as
fast as I could to my chamber in search of a bouquet, but unfortunately
they were every one gone; my mother had distributed them all among the
guests. The gardener lives at a considerable distance from the castle,
and I did not know what I should do, as I was most anxious Matthias
should have his bouquet, apart from all consideration of his prophecy.
Suddenly, an excellent idea occurred to me; I divided my own bouquet,
tied up the half of it with a white ribbon, and fastened it to his
buttonhole by a gold pin, keeping a common one for myself. Matthias was
charmed with this proceeding, and said to me:
'Frances, you are better than beautiful; you are an angel of goodness. I
am sometimes a prophet: may the desires I entertain for you be all
fulfilled! I will carefully preserve this bouquet until your
marriage.... What will you be, Frances, when I return it to you?'
How strange! Matthias's words occupied my mind during the whole evening.
They rang in my ears, and I could not forget them.... But what an idea!
Am I a Barbara Radziwill?[B] Are we still in the times when kings make
misalliances?... What folly! I dream, when I should think only of my
sister. I will return to the ceremony.
The whole company were assembled in the hall, and kept their eyes fixed
upon the door. The two leaves of the folding door were thrown open, and
Barbara, supported by two ladies, entered weeping. She trembled as she
walked; she seemed almost stifled by her emotion, and could scarcely
restrain her sobs. The starost regarded her tenderly, and, approaching
her, took her hand to lead her to our parents. They then both knelt to
receive the paternal benediction; all present were deeply moved. After
having received the blessing, the pair made the circuit of the room, and
every one tendered good wishes and congratulations.
Finally they went into the castle chapel, where the Abbé Vincent stood
before the altar. The minister Borch, the king's representative, and
Kochanowski, son of the castellan, offered their hands to Barbara, while
the starost gave his to Miss Malachowska and myself. My parents, the
rest of the family, and our guests marched in, two and two. The silence
was so profound that the rustling of the silk dresses could be
distinctly heard. A great number of wax tapers were burning upon the
altar, the steps were covered with a rich carpet, embroidered in gold
and silver; two prie-dieus of red velvet, one embroidered with the
Krasinski arms, and the other with those of the Swidzinski family, were
destined to the use of the bride and groom. All knelt; the ladies to the
right and the gentlemen to the left of the altar. I held a golden dish,
on which were the two wedding rings. My father and mother stood behind
Barbara, and the palatine behind his son.
The Veni Creator was then intoned, after which the Abbé Vincent
pronounced a long discourse in Latin, and finally began the marriage
ceremony.
Barbara, in spite of her tears and sobs, said quite distinctly: 'I take
thee, Michael,' etc. But the starost spoke much louder, and with much
more self-possession.
After the rings had been exchanged, the married pair knelt at my
parents' feet, and received their blessing.
At a sign from the master of ceremonies, the musicians and Italian
singers, brought expressly for the occasion, began to play and sing.
Without, our dragoons fired their muskets and all the cannon. When all
was again quiet, and it was possible to hear one's self speak, my father
addressed the newly married couple in the following words:
'This union, blessed by Heaven, will serve to the glory of the Eternal,
who governs the universe. May your vows, received by God, be the pledge
of your happiness! You must watch over it carefully, but the husband's
mission is by far the gravest; he becomes the guide and father of his
wife. I place full confidence in your virtues and good qualities. As for
thee, my child, it is thy duty to be ever grateful toward thy mother for
the education she has bestowed upon thee, and the care with which she
watched over thy infancy. Remain always virtuous; virtue is a treasure
of happiness, the straight path, and a glory surpassing all the goods of
the earth. Be ever prudent and discreet in thy words, modest and amiable
in thy actions, and never cease to render thanks to God. Love and obey
thy husband as thou hast always loved and obeyed thy parents; fly all
evil, be steadfast in self-government, and resigned to all the sorrows
thou must meet with in this world. Take thy religion for thy constant
guide, and may God bless thee, as I do at this solemn moment!'
At these last words, Barbara again began to weep; her voice was so
changed that no one could hear what she replied to my father; she fell
at our parents' feet.
Then came congratulations from all sides. The Abbé Vincent, after
sprinkling all the spectators with holy water, presented the paten to
the wife of the king's pantler, Jordan, that she might kiss it. This was
a great mistake, an incomprehensible forgetfulness of the rights of
precedence: he should have offered it first to the Castellane
Kochanowska, mother of the prince royal's representative. My mother, who
fortunately perceived the error, repaired it by begging the castellane
to take precedence of the Palatiness Granowska in reconducting the
starost. Barbara walked between the king's representative and the
Palatine Malachowski. In this order we reëntered the great hall, and
soon after, dinner was announced.
The table was very large, and in the form of the letter B. The service
was magnificent; in the centre stood a sugar pyramid four feet high; a
French cook had been at work upon it for two weeks; it represented the
temple of Hymen, adorned with allegorical figures, and surmounted by the
united arms of Krasinski and Swidzinski, encircled by French
inscriptions. There were, besides, quantities of other fancy articles:
porcelain figures, gold and silver baskets, etc.; indeed, the table was
so crowded that our dwarf Peter might have tried in vain to make his way
among the various dishes and ornaments. I could not count the number of
dishes, and the butler, I am sure, might try in vain to tell the number
of bottles of wine which were drunk. It may perhaps give some faint idea
to say that a whole tun of Hungarian wine was emptied during the repast:
it was called 'Miss Barbara's wine.' My father bought it the day of
Barbara's birth, that it might be drunk at her marriage, in accordance
with the old Polish custom. Each of us has her tun of wine, and our
butler tells me that when mine has remained two years longer in the
cellar it will be perfect.
The toasts were innumerable; all drank to the newly married pair, to the
republic, the king, the Duke of Courland, the prince primate, the
clergy, the master and mistress of the house, and the ladies. After each
toast, the bottles were broken, the cannon fired, and the trumpets
sounded.
At the end of the dessert, a perfect calm succeeded to all this noise:
we thought my father was about to give the signal for rising from the
table, but we were mistaken. He called the steward, and said a few words
to him; the latter left the room, but soon returned, bringing a black
morocco case, which I had never seen before. My father opened it, and
drew forth a cup enriched with precious stones; it was in the form of a
raven; he showed it to all the guests, and said it had descended to him
by hereditary succession from the ancient Roman family of the Corvini,
and that he had never touched it since his own wedding day. He then took
from the butler's hand a large bottle covered with a venerable dust,
bespeaking great age. He told us, not without a certain pride, that this
wine was a hundred years old; he emptied all the contents into the cup,
leaving not a single drop, but as the goblet was not yet full, he poured
more of the same wine into it from another bottle, and finally drank it
off to the prosperity of the married pair. The toast was
enthusiastically received; the music again began to play and the cannon
to thunder. The cup went the rounds of the table, and its virtue was
such, that a hundred bottles of old wine were emptied before it had made
the entire circuit. After this crowning honor, each left the table as
best he could.
Night had already set in. The ladies went up into their rooms to change
their dress, but the bride and the young ladies attending upon her
remained as they were. Toward seven o'clock, when the fumes of the wine
were somewhat dissipated, all began to think of dancing, and the king's
representative opened the ball with Barbara. At first only Polonaises,
minuets, and quadrilles were danced, but as the guests became more
excited, they ventured upon Mazurkas and Cracoviennes. Kochanowski
dances the Cracovienne to perfection. According to the ancient usage,
the leader sings stanzas, which are repeated by the others. He
improvised one at the moment he began to dance with Barbara; as nearly
as I can remember, it ran as follows:
'Neither king nor palatine to-day would I be,
The fortune of the starost only give to me;
For he has truly merited the fair,
The lovely lady, sweet beyond compare.'
The ball and the toasts, which had been recommenced, as if none had been
offered before, were suddenly arrested, and a chair was placed in the
middle of the hall. The bride took her seat upon it, the twelve young
ladies began to loosen her headdress, singing in lamentable tones:
'Ah! Barbara, farewell,
We have lost thee!'
My mother took off her garland, and Madame Malachowska placed a laced
cap in its stead. I should have laughed heartily at this change, if
Barbara had not been all in tears: however, the cap became her
wonderfully well, and every one repeated that her husband would love her
dearly, very dearly. I am sure I do not doubt it: who could help loving
such a good, sweet young creature?
The ceremony of the cap ended, all began again to dance, and through
respect for the custom introduced by the new court, the bride danced the
drabant with the king's representative, after which the orchestra played
a grave Polonaise. The Palatine Swidzinski offered his hand to the
bride, and she danced in turn with all the gentlemen present. As the
Polonaise is rather a promenade than a dance, it suits all ages; my
father made once the tour of the hall with Barbara, and then gave her
back to the starost, as was most proper. The Polonaise ended the ball,
and my mother sent us all off to sleep.
... I slept well, and indeed I needed rest; but I do not feel very much
tired this morning. Heavens! how happy I was yesterday! I danced oftener
with the prince's representative than with any one else; he is so
agreeable and converses so charmingly! That is not astonishing, for he
has been to Paris and Luneville; in fact, it is only a year since he
returned. He was then immediately attached to the person of the prince,
whom he praises highly. Indeed, if his master be more gallant than he
is, he must be something really ideal.
I am very glad that the festival will be continued this evening; but we
must begin to dance early, for on Shrove Tuesday we cannot dance after
midnight.
I have not yet seen Barbara--I should say her ladyship the starostine,
for my parents desire we should so call her. Her absence puts me
completely out of my reckoning, but I have fallen heir to her bed and
work table. I have finally all the honors due to the eldest. I am no
longer Frances, still less Fanny; I am the young starostine.... Indeed,
I needed some consolation.
Wednesday, _February 27th_.
To-day is Ash Wednesday, and we must languish a whole year before
another carnival comes round.
Our guests already begin to leave us. His majesty's representative
departed yesterday, and the married pair will go day after to-morrow. We
will accompany them to Sulgostow. The starost can invite no strangers,
as all amusements are forbidden during Lent; an exception has been made
in favor of Kochanowski, the castellan's son. He earnestly solicited
this favor, and the starost could not refuse him, as he was his comrade
at college.
I am enchanted with the prospect of the little journey we are to make. I
shall see my good sister's palace and domains. I cannot become
accustomed to say her ladyship the starostine, when I speak of Barbara,
but I know I ought to follow the example of my parents, who call her
nothing else.
Barbara has become very grave since her marriage; she wears dresses with
long trains; she looks to me several years older in her grand robes, and
still seems quite sad, but that is easily understood, as she is about to
quit her father's and mother's home; and then, the idea of being
entirely alone with a person she scarcely knows must distress her.
She is so timid with the starost that no one would think he was her
husband; but he is not in the least timid: he calls her my wife,
approaches her often, and talks much more to her than he ever did to our
parents.
Saturday, _March 9th_.
We returned yesterday from Sulgostow: I amused myself exceedingly while
there, but it is a real sorrow not to be able to bring her ladyship the
starostine back with us. How time flies! A week has already elapsed
since she left the castle!
Last Friday, when all our guests had departed, Barbara rose early, and
went to the parish church at Lissow; she made an offering of a golden
heart to the chapel which contains the image of her patron saint, and
then bade the good priest adieu. When she returned to the castle, she
took leave of all the courtiers and attendants; then went down to the
farm, and distributed all the little articles which had belonged to her
domestic establishment as a young lady. She gave away her cows, geese,
and chickens to a poor peasant of Maleszow, who had just been burned out
of house and home; she kept only two crested hens and her swans, which
she will take with her to Sulgostow. She gave me her birds and flowers.
After this distribution of her little property, she expressed a desire
to go once more all over the castle; she visited all the rooms on every
story, and remained long in the chapel and in our own apartment. We had
scarcely finished our breakfast, when the cracking of whips was heard,
and a chamberlain entered to announce that the carriages were ready. The
starost went to Barbara and told her it was time to go. Her heart
swelled at these words, and tears streamed from her eyes; she threw
herself at our parents' feet to thank them for all their kindness, for
the care they had bestowed upon her, and the happiness she had enjoyed
during eighteen years. She added:
'All I can desire in the future, is to be as happy as I have been until
the present day.'
For the first time in my life I saw my father weep. Ah! what tender
blessings our poor Barbara received!... All who were present at this
scene were deeply moved.
When we reached the drawbridge, the captain of our dragoons opposed our
passage, and told the starost he would not suffer him to proceed until
he had received some pledge as a promise that he would at some future
day bring Barbara back to the castle. The starost gave him a beautiful
diamond ring.
During this colloquy I had leisure to examine the starost's equipages.
They are truly magnificent: the first one had two seats, was yellow, and
lined with red cloth; next came a fine landau, then a barouche, and
several britschkas. The horses belonged to the finest breeds. To the
yellow carriage, intended for the married pair, were harnessed six noble
animals, white and gray. The various members of the suite followed in
the other vehicles, and we (young ladies) brought up the rear.
Her ladyship the starostine wept aloud, and we heard her sobs
distinctly; they almost broke my heart.
The courtiers, chamberlains, and even the peasants, accompanied us quite
a considerable distance. Barbara threw them all the money she had about
her, and the starost displayed an unheard-of generosity; he gave to
every one, beginning with the steward and ending with the lowest servant
in the castle.
Wherever we stopped to rest our horses, or to pass the night, we found
the attendance admirable. The starost gave his orders, and the tables
were covered as if by magic. The Jews, who keep most of the inns upon
the high road, turned everything out of doors, even their children and
goods, to make room for us.
Shortly before arriving at Sulgostow, we met the palatine and the Abbé
Vincent, who had preceded us in order to receive the young couple.
The peasants, led by the starost's steward, met us at the frontier of
the Sulgostow estate. The eldest member of the peasantry made a speech,
at the conclusion of which all cried aloud: 'May the bride and groom
live a hundred years!'
As we entered the palace courtyard, a company of hussars discharged
their muskets, and the captain presented arms. The palatine, with his
nephew and all his court, received us at the first gate; loud
acclamations arose from every quarter.
The starost presented her ladyship the starostine with an enormous bunch
of keys, and the following day she assumed the reins of government. She
gave her orders and directions in a manner that made it a pleasure to
hear her; it is true that she had been instructed from her infancy by
our mother in all the details of housekeeping.
Sulgostow is situated differently from our castle of Maleszow; the two
mansions possess few points of resemblance. The former is a palace, and
the latter a castle.
Sulgostow is gay and splendid; luxury abounds on all sides, and grandeur
appears in the least details. The court is numerous, and the table
excellent; but that which is of more importance is the eagerness to
oblige, and the attention shown by every one toward my sister. I foresee
that she will soon forget our castle.
I tasted several excellent new dishes at Sulgostow, and for the first
time in my life drank coffee. My parents do not like it; they say it is
unwholesome for young persons, especially for young girls, as it heats
the blood and makes the skin yellow. But I believe they will one day lay
aside this prejudice. It is not long since coffee was first introduced
into Poland, and people must become accustomed to it gradually. As for
me, I drank plenty of it at Sulgostow; the starost is very fond of this
beverage, and obtained from my parents permission for me to drink a
small cup every day.
_Apropos_ to coffee, we all laughed heartily one day when some one
recalled the verses of the poetess Druzbacka. Speaking of a bride just
arrived at her husband's castle, she says: 'She could not find even
three little grains of coffee; but he gave her instead a great soup
plate, filled with soup made of beer and cheese.'
Certainly, the new starostine has no such complaint to make.
I was very sorry to leave the starost's palace so soon. Mr. Kochanowski,
the castellan's son, is very lively, and amused us exceedingly; when we
drove out, he always rode on horse back near our carriage door.
Her ladyship, the starostine, sobbed bitterly when we parted from her. I
too felt very sad, and feel still more so now that we have returned to
Maleszow; I fear this melancholy will not soon pass away.
Tuesday, _March 12th_.
I foresaw that my sister would take all my gayety away with her. The
castle seems deserted, and all pleasure has vanished with our dear
Barbara.... My parents are also very sad: Barbara, being the eldest, was
much more with them than we were, and rendered them a thousand services.
I try to fill her place, but I am very awkward in lighting my father's
pipe, and in choosing the silks for my mother's embroidery. With time
and the help of God I hope to become more skilful, but I can never equal
Barbara (I _must_ call her so for this once). I have plenty of good
will, but notwithstanding that, forget many things, while my sister
never forgot anything: the whole court speak of her in the most
affectionate and exalted terms.
My parents sent a chamberlain to Sulgostow to-day, to inquire for her
ladyship the starostine. All the chamberlains covet the honor of bearing
the message. Michael Chronowski, who leaves to-morrow for Opole, really
regrets his ancient condition.
The castle becomes daily more melancholy; the castellan's son has gone,
and, during the last three days, the only visitors we have had were some
travelling friars and a gentleman of our neighborhood, who brought his
young wife to introduce to our parents. This gentleman formerly
belonged to our court, and he seemed to me very well bred.
'My heart,' said he to his wife (who had not spoken two words), 'if I am
a good husband and father, you must thank, first the starost, and then
the steward; the former never spared his reprimands, nor the latter his
leathern strap.'
I was charmed with this _naïveté_; and my father made him some very
handsome presents.
Such have been our sole visitors, and everything is sad and dull, as it
always is after so much joy and merriment. However, I should not omit
one occurrence which made me laugh like a crazy girl. After the wedding,
my mother distributed Barbara's wardrobe among the young ladies of the
suite and the waiting women: during our absence, each one made a dress,
a spencer, or a mantle for herself out of her share of the spoils, and
on Sunday all presented themselves tricked out in their new clothes.
Whichever way we turned our eyes, we saw the fragments of Barbara's
wardrobe. Our little Matthias was the first to observe it: he pretended
to sigh, and when asked what troubled him, replied:
'My heart aches when I behold this pillage of all that pertained to the
late Miss Barbara.'
Every one began to laugh, but Theckla and I louder than the others, and
indeed so loudly, that my father reproved us by repeating the old
proverb: 'At table as at church.' Our little Matthias is so droll! How
could any one help laughing?
Wednesday, _March 13th_.
An event took place yesterday which should certainly find a place in my
journal. When, according to our custom, I went down to our parents'
apartments with madame and my sisters, I found Kochanowski, son of the
castellan, talking with my father in one of the window recesses; their
conversation was so animated that they did not perceive our entrance. I
could not hear what they said, but the last words uttered by my father
caught my ear: 'Sir, you shall soon have my decisive answer.'
He then said something in a low tone to my mother, who sent for the
steward, and gave a whispered order; soon after, dinner was announced.
Mr. Kochanowski was seated opposite to me; I could not help remarking
the especial care he had bestowed upon his toilet. He wore an
embroidered velvet coat, a white satin waistcoat, a frilled shirt, and
lace sleeves; his hair was frizzed, curled, and pomatumed: in short,
everything indicated some peculiar motive for attention to his dress.
His manners harmonized with his appearance: he spoke much, seemed
excited, was continually mingling French words in his discourse, and was
twice as witty as usual: all this became him well, and diverted me
exceedingly.
Dinner was unusually long, and we were obliged to wait some time for the
roast meat. I had abundance of leisure to observe that the castellan's
son, although he talked and smiled unceasingly, was by no means at his
ease; he became pale and red by turns. The doors were finally opened,
and the servants entered with the dishes. Kochanowski grew pale as a
sheet; not knowing to what to attribute his emotion, I looked round me
on all sides, and my eyes fell at length upon the dishes which had just
been brought in. I saw a goose dressed with a certain black sauce
(jusznik), which among us signifies a refusal.
I did not dare to raise my eyes, a thousand fancies floated through my
brain; I remembered the Cracoviennes, the Mazurkas, the minuets, in
which Kochanowski had displayed so much grace; then his graceful
appearance on horseback, the French with which he so plentifully
sprinkled his conversation, and his never-failing compliments.... A
feeling of melancholy seized upon my heart, I lost courage, and could
not touch a single dish. My parents were as much affected as myself; if
the gray end had not helped to finish out the dinner, it would have been
sent away untouched.
It seemed to me that we were ages at table; I was impatient to know the
end. My father finally gave the signal, and we rose, but while we were
each saying the after-dinner grace, Mr. Kochanowski slipped out at a
small side door, and did not again make his appearance.
When the courtiers and chamberlains had retired, my parents desired me
to leave my work and come to them: my father said:
'Frances, Mr. Kochanowski, son of the Castellan of Radom, has asked your
hand of me. I am aware that his family is ancient and illustrious. I
know that he has a fine fortune, by no means disproportioned to your
own, but this alliance does not exactly please us. In the first place,
Mr. Kochanowski is too young; his only distinction is derived from the
title held by his late father; he has received no honors at court, or
rather the favor shown him has conferred no very illustrious rank upon
him: finally, I think he has made rather too abrupt a declaration, and
he exacts an immediate and decisive reply. We have given him our answer,
and it is in accordance with his own mode of proceeding. We are sure,
Fanny, that you will approve of what we have done.'
He then desired me to recommence my work, thus giving me no time to say
either yes or no.
I doubtless share the opinion of my parents; but as I have promised to
be entirely frank in my journal, frank without any reserve, I must
confess that neither Kochanowski's age nor the manner in which he made
his offer, appear to me sufficient objections. The true motive of the
refusal he has received is that he has no title, and, as our little
Matthias says, a vice-castellan is not much: a castellan would indeed be
something worth considering. God reads to the bottom of my soul, and I
am sure I have no desire to marry; I am so well satisfied, so entirely
happy in my father's house. I was melancholy during several days after I
returned from Sulgostow, but I have now completely recovered my ancient
gayety.
My position is very different from what it formerly was, and I am
treated with more respect; when there are no strangers at table, I am
served the fourth.
I will accompany my parents wherever they go. I should be sorry to
abandon such dear and sweet prerogatives. Besides, marriage is not so
fine a thing as many deem it; a woman's career is then ended; once
married, all is fixed and decided for life; no more changes, no more
doubts, no more hopes of something still better. One knows what one must
be, one knows what one will be until the hour of one's death, and for my
part, I like to indulge in the freest range of fancy.
A whole oxhide would not be large enough to contain all the dreams that
float through my brain. When I am seated at my work, my mind is more
active than my fingers: it is so delightful to dream, to revel in a
future of one's own creation, bright as an excitable imagination can
make it.... My mother says to me often, but I fear in vain: 'A well born
and properly educated young lady should never think of her future
husband;' but, in truth, it is not of a husband that I think; it is of a
thousand things, of memories, of hopes, and of descriptions, adventures,
etc., which I meet with in my reading, and which I involuntarily apply
to myself. If my fate were to be like that of Mademoiselle Scudery's, or
Madame Lafayette's, or Madame de Beaumont's heroines! I can picture all
the situations so vividly that I really believe all these adventures
will happen to me. I must confess that Barbara's marriage has much more
inclined me to revery. She blamed such wanderings of the fancy, and
always hindered my reading romances; but to make up for lost time,
madame makes me read a great deal, and the more I read, the more does my
imagination lose itself in vague dreams.
Barbara possessed an entirely different character; she has assured me
that she never thought of her future life, or of the husband she was to
have; and if this latter idea ever crossed her mind, it was only when
she said her prayers. I must here say that, according to our mother's
desire, after we have reached our sixteenth year, we always add these
words to our prayers: 'My God, give me wisdom, good health, the love of
my neighbor, and a good husband.' This was the only moment during the
day that Barbara's thoughts ever rested upon her future lord: 'And it
should be so,' she used to say; 'since one day he must replace our
father and mother, and we must love and obey him until our death.'
Beyond this she felt no anxiety as to what he would be or when he would
come.
Notwithstanding her indifference, she has succeeded perfectly; her
husband is one of the most upright and excellent of men; she writes to
us that after she has somewhat overcome her grief at the separation from
her family, there can be no happier woman in the world than she is. One
may plainly see that she loves the starost more and more every day, and
that she is entirely satisfied with her lot. But I ... who can tell what
may be in store for me?... Indeed, my parents have done well to refuse
Mr. Kochanowski; I pity him, however, for the humiliation which he has
received; but if I am to believe the prophecy of our little Matthias, he
will soon be consoled.
Sunday, _March 17th_.
Yesterday, just as we were sitting down to supper, we had a visit from
my aunt, the Princess Palatiness of Lublin, and her husband, the
palatine. It was a delightful surprise: not having been able to come to
my sister's marriage, occupied as they were by their duty toward the
prince royal, who was preparing to depart for his duchy of Courland,
they came to atone for their omission, and felicitate my parents on
their daughter's marriage. The arrival of these illustrious guests has
restored life to the castle; my father cannot restrain his joy or do
enough to show honor to the princess, whom he loves and respects from
the depths of his heart.
Five years have elapsed since the prince and princess were last at
Maleszow; I was then a child, and they find me now a young lady; their
compliments are endless. They praise my beauty, my figure, etc., until I
am overwhelmed with confusion; such praises are very agreeable, but then
one should hear them accidentally; when they are thrown in one's face
they lose their value, they annoy and embarrass one; I am consequently
better pleased to remember them to-day than I was to hear them
yesterday. The prince palatine said very seriously, that if I were to
show myself at the court of Warsaw, the young starostine Wessel, Madame
Potocka, and the princess Sapieha (the three chief court beauties) would
be eclipsed. My aunt, the princess, remarked that I still needed more
gravity in my demeanor, and more dignity in my carriage.
Never in my life had I heard such flattering speeches, and indeed I had
no idea that I could make any pretension to so much beauty. I saw that
my father's heart was swelling with pride; but my mother, fearing lest
so much flattery should render me vain, sent for me this morning, and
told me all this was nothing but a mode of speech common to courts, and
that I must not regard it as anything more important.
I do not know, but it seems to me they have some designs upon me. Oh!
how I would like to know them! I did not close my eyes during the whole
night.... The prince and princess related such curious and interesting
things!
My mother desired me to retire as usual at ten o'clock, but the prince
palatine begged it as a favor that I might be permitted to remain until
quite late with the company.
It appears that the rejoicings upon the occasion of the prince royal's
investiture were truly magnificent; no one can remember to have ever
witnessed so brilliant and gay a carnival. All the colleges represented
tragedies and comedies, and everywhere allusions were made to the prince
royal, who seems to be adored.
On the Monday preceding Ash Wednesday (Barbara's wedding day) the
collegians, under the care of the Jesuit fathers, represented the
tragedy of 'Antigone,' in which the celebrated warrior, Demetrius,
defends his father against his enemies, and restores his estates to him.
At the end of the piece the following lines were recited, and received
with the greatest applause:
'Not only 'mid the Greeks were faithful sons;
Demetrius in our own times finds his peers.
In thee, O Charles the Great, may we behold
Sublime example and heroic deeds.
For thou against injustice hast thy sire
Defended; thy dear sire, whose virtues rare
Efface the memories left by antique Greece.
Be thou the father of thy country! Reign!
Reign over us! Thy people all wilt love thee
With the love of a Demetrius.'
One may see from this that the prince royal has devoted partisans; an
interior conviction assures me that he will one day be king of Poland. I
was deeply interested in the praise which the prince palatine bestowed
upon him: if I am not mistaken, the hero of my dreams will one day be a
great man; but I may be deceived in my previsions, or they may be
rendered vain by the power of intrigue.
I judge of the generality by the diversity of opinion existing within
our own little circle. The views of the princess palatine differ from
those of her husband. She desires to see neither the prince royal nor
Poniatowski king of the republic, but carries her wishes still
elsewhere.... To whose prayers will God listen?
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote B: A beautiful Polish lady, who was secretly married to the
Prince Sigismund Augustus, afterward King of Poland. When he ascended
the throne, at his father's death, he acknowledged his marriage, and
Barbara reigned as queen until the year 1561, when she died, to the
great sorrow of her husband and her people, to whom she had proved
herself a real mother.--_Translator's note._]
THE ISLE OF SPRINGS.
CHAPTER I.
VOYAGE AND APPROACH.
On the 22d of November, 1855, a small company of us--three gentlemen and
two ladies--left New York harbor in the schooner Louisa Dyer, of 150
tons burden, bound to the island of Jamaica. By nightfall we had lost
sight of the last faint trace of New Jersey soil. New Jersey is
sometimes jocularly said to be out of the Union; but on that day the two
of us who were leaving our native land for the first time, entertained
no doubt of its solidarity with that country of which it afforded us the
last glimpse. By morning we found our small and incommodious vessel
fairly on her way through the stormy November Atlantic, toiling
painfully over the broad convexity of the planet, like a plodding
insect, toward the regions of the sun. After a voyage of fifteen days,
wrestling with all manner of baffling winds, and with storms attended, I
suppose, with some danger, though, from a happy incapacity of
apprehending peril at sea till it is over, I suffered no disquiet from
them, we came in sight of the two inlets which form the Turk's Island
passage. A winter voyage, however unpleasant, has this advantage, that
then only can you be sure of meeting with such a succession of storms as
shall leave settled in the memory the sullen sublimity of that
'changing, restless mound' of disturbed ocean in which is embodied the
mass of its gloomy might.
Very pleasant was it to us, nevertheless, when the softening airs and
the steady set of the breeze showed us that we had come into the
latitude of the trade winds. The inky blackness of the sea had gradually
turned into translucent and then into transparent azure, which looked as
if it could be quarried out into blocks of pure blue crystal. The flying
fish, glancing in quick, short flights above the sunny waters, now gave
the charm of happy, graceful life to our weary voyage out of the
tempestuous north. And when at last we saw land, although it appeared
only in the shape of the two small islands mentioned above, which seem
to be little more than coral reefs covered with a scanty carpet of
yellowish grass, yet the few distant cocoanut trees upon them threw even
over their barrenness that tropical charm which to those who first feel
it seems rather to belong to another planet than to this dull one upon
which we were born.
Passing through the narrow channel between the two islands which formed
thus the portal of our entrance into the Caribbean, we found ourselves
fairly afloat upon the waters of that brilliant sea, which the
Spaniards, three centuries and a half before, had traversed with greater
astonishment, but not with more delight. Everything now conspired to
raise our spirits. The soft air, reminding us by contrast of the winter
we had left behind, the deep blue sky, answered by waves of an intenser
blue below, whose gentle ripples, unlike the stormy Atlantic surges
which we had escaped, only came up to bear us kindly on, and the
knowledge that we were but two days' sail from the fair island to which
some were returning, and which two of us were about to make our home for
an indefinite future, all made us now a very different set from the
dull, anxious, seasick group that the Atlantic had lately been boxing
about at his pleasure.
Before making Jamaica, however, we came in sight of the negro empire of
Hayti, and ran along for a day under its northern coast.
We saw swelling hills, covered on their tops with woods, and sloping
down to the shore, but were too far distant to distinguish very plainly
any sign of human habitation. By nightfall we had sunk the land, but
were astonished in the morning to see looming through the air, at an
immense distance, a mountain, which in height seemed more like one of
the Andes than any summit that Hayti could afford. Its actual height, I
presume, may not have been less than 8,000 feet, but in my memory it
shows like Chimborazo.
It was now Saturday, the 8th of December. We held our way westward
across the hundred miles of sea that separate Hayti from Jamaica. All
eyes were now turned to discover the first glimpse of our expected
island home. At last, about the middle of the afternoon, we remarked on
the western horizon the distant blot of indigo that showed us where it
lay. Another twenty-four hours would pass before we should land, but
that distant patch of mountain blue seemed to have brought us to land
already. Heavy rain clouds coming up, hid it from us again, but gave
ample compensation in the sunset that followed, one of the two grand
sunsets of my life. The other was in Andover, Mass., which, is justly
celebrated for the beauty of its sunsets. There the banks of white
cloud, lying along the west, glowed with an inner radiance, that led the
eye and the mind back into the very depths of heaven. Here, on the other
hand, an unimaginable wealth of color was poured out on the very face of
the sky. The whole western heaven, to the zenith, was one mingled
melting mass of gorgeous dyes, rendered the more magnificent by the
heavy lead-colored rain clouds which occupied all the rest of the sky.
The inward, spiritual magnificence of that northern sunset, and the
unreserved splendor of this southern one, were in correspondence with
the different tone which runs throughout nature in each of the two
regions.
After sunset hues and rain cloud had both given way to the brilliant
night sky of that latitude, we seated ourselves, seven in number,
captain and mate included, on the extensive quarter deck of not less
than seven feet from cabin house to stern bulwarks, for a final game of
'Twenty Questions;' when our hitherto so amiable friend, the Caribbean,
suddenly flung a spiteful wave right over the quarter upon us, and put a
very unexpected extinguisher on our pastime. The ladies, who were
reclining on the deck, came in for the chief share of the compliment,
and were in some danger of an indiscriminate swash down the cabin
gangway; but the mate gallantly picked up one, and her husband the
other, and saved them from all mischief but the drenching. This sudden
interruption of amicable relations with the powers of the wave was
followed up by a night of unmerciful rocking, to which, as we had now
come under the lee of the land, was added a sweltering heat. I can stand
as much heat as any man, but for once I found the cabin too much of a
blackhole even for me, and after tossing most of the night in alternate
correspondence and contradiction to the pitching of the vessel, I got up
and went on deck, to see if a nap were any more feasible there. I found
most of our company already recumbent in this starry bedchamber. After
awhile admiring the unaccustomed brilliancy of the old familiar
constellations of our northern sky, augmented by the effulgent host
which our approach to the equator had brought into view, among all which
Venus shone like a young moon, I fell asleep also, and we slumbered in
concert, until awakened by the streaks of dawn. Soon the sun rose with a
serene magnificence, well according with the day of holy rest and
cheerful expectation which lay before us. The white haze upon the sky
rolled away from the blue, and gathered itself into fleecy masses, which
stood like pillars around the seaward horizon, brightening with a
cheerful tempered light, until, as the sun grew higher, they dissolved
away. Meanwhile, on the landward side of our vessel--which had rounded
Morant Point in the night, and was now gliding smoothly on--lay in near
view the mountains of Jamaica. Coming from the southeast quarter of the
island, we were passing under them where they are highest. They rose,
seemingly almost from the water's edge, to the height of seven and eight
thousand feet, their towering masses broken into gigantic wrinkles and
corrugations, whose fantastic unevenness was subdued into harmony by the
softening veil of yellowish green darkening above, which clothed them to
their tops. Between their base and the sea actually lies one of the most
richly cultivated districts of the island, the Plaintain Garden River
district. But we were too far out to distinguish much of it; and what
little we did see is in my memory absorbed in the image of the verdant
giants which rose behind.
In the forenoon our pilot came on board, a comfortable, self-possessed
black man, who toward sunset brought us off the Palisades. This is the
name of the narrow spit of land which forms the outer wall of the
magnificent harbor of Kingston. Upon it is situated the naval station of
Port Royal, the principal rendezvous of the British fleet in the West
Indies. Here is that exquisitely comfortable naval hospital, with its
long ranges of green jalousies, excluding the blazing light and
admitting the sea breeze, in which the officers and crew of our ship
Susquehanna were cared for with such generous hospitality a few years
ago, when attacked by yellow fever. The heartburnings of the present may
be somewhat lessened by reflecting on some of these mutual offices of
kindness in the past.
Around the naval station clusters a poor village of perhaps fifteen
hundred souls, the miserable remnant of the once splendid city of Port
Royal, whose sudden fate I shall relate hereafter.
We rounded the point of the Palisades--which is marked by some
unfortunate cocoanut trees, which, having vainly struggled with the sea
breeze to maintain the elegant stateliness of their race, have long
since given up the contest, and resigned themselves to being stunted and
broken into the appearance of magnified splint brooms planted upside
down--and found ourselves at last in our desired haven, Kingston harbor.
It is a broad and sheltered basin, fully entitled, I understand, to the
standard encomium of a harbor of the first rank, namely, that it will
float the united navies of the world. Due provision has been made by
three strong forts near the entrance that the navies aforesaid shall not
enter until the time of such auspicious union. An intelligent
correspondent of the _Herald_ states his opinion that no ship and no
number of ships could force an entrance under the converging fire of the
forts, which bears upon the channel at a point where the least
divergence would land a ship upon a dangerous shoal.
Kingston is on the inside of the harbor, six miles across from Port
Royal. The city itself lies low, but as we approached it, just as the
sun had set, the mountains which rise behind it, a few miles distant, to
the height of three and five thousand feet, appeared to close around it
in a sublime amphitheatre of massive verdure. High up on the side of the
mountains we distinguished a white speck, which we were told was the
military cantonment of Newcastle, situated 4,400 feet above the sea,
chosen for the English soldiers on account of its salubrity. Formerly
the annual mortality among European soldiers in the island was 130 in
1,000, but since the Government has been careful to quarter them as much
as possible in these elevated sites, it has diminished to 34 in 1,000.
At last our vessel came to anchor at the wharf. We took a kind leave of
the pleasant-tempered captain and crew, who had been shut up with us in
the little craft during our seventeen days' tossing, and gave a farewell
of especial warmth to the fatherly mate, whose rough exterior covered
the warm heart of a seaman and the delicate feelings of a native
gentleman.
When we landed, the short tropical twilight was fast fading into night,
but light enough remained to show us into what a new world we had come.
The gloomy, prisonlike warehouses, the long rows of verandas before the
dwellings, the dusky throngs in the streets, the unintelligible _patois_
that came to our ears on every side, occasional glimpses of strange
vegetation, and, above all, the overpowering heat in December, all gave
us to feel that we were at last in that tropical world, every aspect of
which is so unlike our northern life.
After a hospitable reception from Mr. Whitehorne, the principal of the
Nuco Institute, I went up to the rooms of the American Mission, and,
ensconcing myself behind the mosquito curtains, proceeded to make
critical observations upon the buzzings outside, to satisfy myself
whether an insular range fed up these tormentors to the formidable vigor
of their continental brethren. Concluding from their timid pipings that
they were by no means an enemy so much to be dreaded--a conclusion which
subsequent experience happily confirmed--I fell asleep.