The Atlantic Monthly Part 13

Allusion is here made to an important fact. _Mr. Gaines was a miller!_

Yet, with all this elucidation, we take shame to ourselves for admitting that there are points which, after all, we do not comprehend. They may be trivial; but in making up testimony, it is the little things which have weight. Trifles light as air are confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ, and confutation no less strong. When, as a proof of Nat's ardor in the pursuit of knowledge, we are told that he walked ten miles after a hard day's work to hear Daniel Webster, and then _stood_ through the oration in front of the platform, because he could see the speaker better,--and when, turning to the next page, we are told that he was so much interested that he "would have _sat_ entranced till morning, if the gifted orator had continued to pour forth his eloquence,"--what are we to believe? When we are bidden to "listen to the gifted orator, as the flowing periods come burning from his soul on fire, riveting the attention," etc., is it a river, or is it a fire, or is it a hammer and anvil, that we have in our mind's eye, Horatio? When Nat "waxed warmer and warmer, as he advanced, and spoke in a flow of eloquence and choice selection of words that was unusual for one of his age," did he come out dry-shod? We are told of his visit to the Boston bookstores,--that he examined the books "outside before he stepped in. _He read the t.i.tle of each volume upon the back, and some he took up and examined_," but we have no explanation of this extraordinary behavior. "It was thus with"

Abraham. "The manner in which Abraham made progress in penmans.h.i.+p, writing on slabs and trees, on the ground and in the snow, anywhere that he could find a place, reminds us forcibly of Pascal, who demonstrated the first thirty-two propositions of Euclid in his boyhood, without the aid of a teacher." We not only are not forcibly reminded of Pascal, but we are not reminded of Pascal at all. The boy who imitates on slabs mechanical lines which he has been taught, and he who originates mathematical problems and theorems, may be as like as my fingers to my fingers, but--alas, that it is forbidden to say--we do not see it. When Mr. Elkins told Abraham he would make a good pioneer boy, and "'What's a pioneer boy?' asked Abraham," why was Mr. Elkins "quite amused at this inquiry"? and why did he "exercise his risibles for a minute" before replying? When Mr. Stuart offered young Mr. Lincoln the use of his law-books, and young Mr. Lincoln answered,--very properly, we should say,--"You are very generous indeed. I could never repay you for such generosity," why did Mr. Stuart respond, "shaking his sides with laughter"? We do not wish to be too inquisitive, but few things are more trying to a sensitive person than to see others overwhelmed with merriment in which, from ignorance, he cannot share.

Want of s.p.a.ce forbids us to do more than touch lightly upon the many excellences of these books. We have given extracts enough to enable our readers to see for themselves the severe elegance of style, the compactness and force of the narrative, the verisimilitude of the characters, the unity of plan, and the cogency of the reasoning. We trust they will also perceive the great moral effect that cannot fail to be produced. Such books are specially adapted to meet a daily increasing want. Our American youth are too apt to value virtue for its own sake.

They are in imminent danger of giving themselves over to integrity, to industry, perseverance, and single-mindedness, without looking forward to those posts of usefulness for which these qualities eminently fit them. Fired with the love of learning, they are languid in claiming the honors which learning has to bestow. Eager to become worthy of the highest places, they make no effort to secure the places to which their worth points them. Political supineness is the bane of our society. The one great need is to rouse the ambition of boys, and wake them to political aspiration. To such objects such books tend; and who would hesitate at any sacrifice of his prejudices in favor of privacy, when such is the end to be obtained? Breathes there the man with soul so dead who would not lay upon the altar his father, his mother, his sisters, not to say his uncles and cousins, nay, the inmost sanct.i.ties of his home, to enable American boys to fasten their eyes upon the White House?

Would he refuse, at the call of patriotism, to spread before the public the very secrets of his heart, the struggles of his closet, his communion with his G.o.d?

As a collateral result of this new school of biography, we can but admire the new form in which Nemesis appears. The day of rich relations is gone by. No longer can stern Uncle Bishops lord it over their obscure nephews, for ever before their eyes will flaunt the possible book which will one day lay open to a gazing world all their weakness and their evil behavior. Let not wicked or disagreeable relatives imagine henceforth that they may safely indulge in small tyrannies, neglects, or other peccadilloes; for no robin-redbreast will piously cover them with leaves, but that which is done in the ear shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops, nor can they tell from what quarter the trumpet shall sound.

The unkempt boy, the sullen girl in the chimney-corner, may be the Narcissus or nymph in whose orisons all their sins shall be remembered.

"You that executors be made, And overseers eke Of children that be fatherless, And infants mild and meek, Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest G.o.d with such like misery Your wicked minds requite."

In view of which benefits, and others "too numerous to mention," we humbly beg pardon for the petulance which disfigures the commencement of our paper, and desire to use all our influence to induce all persons of distinction meekly and humanely to lay open to the dear, curious world their lives, their fortune, and their sacred honor.

But, however beneficial and delightful it is for a friend to impale a friend before the public gaze, we do not think that even Job himself would have desired that his adversary should write a book about him. In the motives that prompted, in the grace of the doing, in the good that will result, we can forgive the deed when friend portrays friend; but we cannot be lenient when a hostile hand exposes the life to which we have no right. We would fain borrow the type and the energy of Reginald Bazalgette to enforce our opinion that it is "ABBOMMANNABEL," and the innocence of Pet Marjorie to declare it "the most Devilish thing." Yet in a loyal, respectable, religious newspaper we lately saw a biography of Mr. Vallandigham which puts to the blush all previous achievements in the line of contemporary history. It is not so much that we are let into the family-secrets, but the family-secrets are spread out before us, as the fruits of that species of domestic taxation known as "the presents"

are spread out on the piano at certain wedding-festivals. We are led back to first principles, to the early married life of the parent Vallandighams. The mother is portrayed with a vigorous feminine pencil, and certainly looks extremely well on canvas. Clement's relations to her are shown to be exemplary. There is excuse for this in the attacks which have been made upon him in the relation of son. But upon what grounds are Clement's sisters' homes invaded? Because a man is disloyal and craven, shall we inform the world that his brother was crossed in love?

Still more shall his wife be taken in hand, and receive what even the late Mr. Smallweed would have considered a thorough "shaking-up"? "If they were all starving," declares the energetic narrator, "she could not earn a cent in any way whatever, so utterly helpless is this fine Southern lady. She will not sleep, unless the light is kept burning all night in her room, for fear 'something might happen'; and when a slight matter crosses her feelings, she lies in bed for several days." Tut, tut, dear lady! surely this once thy zeal hath outrun thy discretion.

Clement L. Vallandigham's public course is a proper target for all loyal shafts, but prithee let the poor lady, his wife, remain in peace,--such peace as she can command. It is bad enough to be his wife, without being overborne with the additional burden of her own personal foibles. One can be daughter, sister, friend, without impeachment of one's sagacity or integrity; but it is such a dreadful indors.e.m.e.nt of a man to marry him! Her own consciousness must be sufficiently grievous; pray do not irritate it into downright madness. Nay, what, after all, are the so heinous faults upon which you animadvert? She cannot earn a cent: that may be her misfortune, it need not be her fault. Perhaps Clement, like Albano, and all good husbands, "never loved to see the sweet form anywhere else than, like other b.u.t.terflies, by his side among the flowers." She will keep a light burning in her room, forsooth. Have we not all our pet hobgoblins? We know an excellent woman who once sat curled up in an arm-chair all night for fear of a mouse! And is it not a well-understood thing that nothing so baffles midnight burglars as a burning candle? "When a light matter crosses her feelings, she lies in bed for several days." Infinitely better than to go sulking about the house with that "injured-innocence" air which makes a man feel as if he were an a.s.saulter and batterer with intent to kill. Blessings rest upon those charming sensible women, who, when they feel cross, as we all do at times, will go to bed and sleep it away! No, let us everywhere put down treason and ostracize traitors. It is lawful to suspend "_naso adunco_" those whom we may not otherwise suspend. But even traitors have rights which white men and white women are bound to respect. We will crush them, if we can, but we will crush them in open field, by fair fight,--not by stealing into their bedchambers to stab them through the heart of a wife.

FOOTNOTES:

[G] The meaning of this is, that Mr. Morse was the landlord, not the house. Of course a house could not be a landlord; still less could it be a landlord to itself.--_Note by Reviewer._

THE LAST RALLY.

NOVEMBER, 1864.

Rally! rally! rally!

Arouse the slumbering land!

Rally! rally! from mountain and valley, And up from the ocean-strand!

Ye sons of the West, America's best!

New Hamps.h.i.+re's men of might!

From prairie and crag unfurl the flag, And rally to the fight!

Armies of untried heroes, Disguised in craftsman and clerk!

Ye men of the coast, invincible host!

Come, every one, to the work,-- From the fisherman gray as the salt-sea spray That on Long Island breaks, To the youth who tills the uttermost hills By the blue northwestern lakes!

And ye Freedmen! rally, rally To the banners of the North!

Through the shattered door of bondage pour Your swarthy legions forth!

Kentuckians! ye of Tennessee Who scorned the despot's sway!

To all, to all, the bugle-call Of Freedom sounds to-day!

Old men shall fight with the ballot, Weapon the last and best,-- And the bayonet, with blood red-wet, Shall write the will of the rest; And the boys shall fill men's places, And the little maiden rock Her doll as she sits with her grandam and knits An unknown hero's sock.

And the hearts of heroic mothers, And the deeds of n.o.ble wives, With their power to bless shall aid no less Than the brave who give their lives.

The rich their gold shall bring, and the old Shall help us with their prayers; While hovering hosts of pallid ghosts Attend us unawares.

From the ghastly fields of s.h.i.+loh Muster the phantom bands, From Virginia's swamps, and Death's white camps On Carolina sands; From Fredericksburg, and Gettysburg, I see them gathering fast; And up from Mana.s.sas, what is it that pa.s.ses Like thin clouds in the blast?

From the Wilderness, where blanches The nameless skeleton; From Vicksburg's slaughter and red-streaked water, And the trenches of Donelson; From the cruel, cruel prisons, Where their bodies pined away, From groaning decks, from sunken wrecks, They gather with us to-day.

And they say to us, "Rally! rally!

The work is almost done!

Ye harvesters, sally from mountain and valley And reap the fields we won!

We sowed for endless years of peace, We harrowed and watered well; Our dying deeds were the scattered seeds: Shall they perish where they fell?"

And their brothers, left behind them In the deadly roar and clash Of cannon and sword, by fort and ford, And the carbine's quivering flash,-- Before the Rebel citadel Just trembling to its fall, From Georgia's glens, from Florida's fens, For us they call, they call!

The life-blood of the tyrant Is ebbing fast away; Victory waits at her opening gates, And smiles on our array; With solemn eyes the Centuries Before us watching stand, And Love lets down his starry crown To bless the future land.

One more sublime endeavor, And behold the dawn of Peace!

One more endeavor, and war forever Throughout the land shall cease!

For ever and ever the vanquished power Of Slavery shall be slain, And Freedom's stained and trampled flower Shall blossom white again!

Then rally! rally! rally!

Make tumult in the land!

Ye foresters, rally from mountain and valley!

Ye fishermen, from the strand!

Brave sons of the West, America's best!

New England's men of might!

From prairie and crag unfurl the flag, And rally to the fight!

FINANCES OF THE REVOLUTION.

In all historical studies we should still bear in mind the difference between the point of view from which one looks at events and that from which they were seen by the actors themselves. We all act under the influence of ideas. Even those who speak of theories with contempt are none the less the unconscious disciples of some theory, none the less busied in working out some problems of the great theory of life. Much as they fancy themselves to differ from the speculative man, they differ from him only in contenting themselves with seeing the path as it lies at their feet, while he strives to embrace it all, starting-point and end, in one comprehensive view. And thus in looking back upon the past we are irresistibly led to arrange the events of history, as we arrange the facts of a science, in their appropriate cla.s.ses and under their respective laws. And thus, too, these events give us the true measure of the intellectual and moral culture of the times, the extent to which just ideas prevailed therein upon all the duties and functions of private and public life. Tried by the standard of absolute truth and right, grievously would they all fall short,--and we, too, with them.

Judged by the human standard of progressive development and gradual growth,--the only standard to which the man of the beam can venture, unrebuked, to bring the man with the mote,--we shall find much in them all to sadden us, and much, also, in which we can all sincerely rejoice.

In judging, therefore, the political acts of our ancestors, we have a right to bring them to the standard of the political science of their age, but we have no right to bring them to the higher standard of our own. Montesquieu could give them but an imperfect clue to the labyrinth in which they found themselves involved; and yet no one had seen farther into the mysteries of social and political organization than Montesquieu. Hume had scattered brilliant rays on dark places, and started ideas which, once at work in the mind, would never rest till they had evolved momentous truths and overthrown long-standing errors.

But no one had yet seen, with Adam Smith, that labor was the original source of every form of wealth,--that the farmer, the merchant, the manufacturer, were all equally the instruments of national prosperity,--or demonstrated as unanswerably as he did that nations grow rich and powerful by giving as they receive, and that the good of one is the good of all. The world had not yet seen that fierce conflict between antagonistic principles which she was soon to see in the French Revolution; nor had political science yet recorded those daring experiments in remoulding society, those const.i.tutions framed in closets, discussed in clubs, accepted and overthrown with equal demonstrations of popular zeal, and which, expressing in their terrible energy the universal dissatisfaction with past and present, the universal grasping at a brighter future, have met and answered so many grave questions,--questions neither propounded nor solved in any of the two hundred const.i.tutions which Aristotle studied in order to prepare himself for the composition of his "Politics." The world had not yet seen a powerful nation tottering on the brink of anarchy, with all the elements of prosperity in her bosom,--nor a bankrupt state sustaining a war that demanded annual millions, and growing daily in wealth and power,--nor the economical phenomena which followed the reopening of Continental commerce in 1814,--nor the still more startling phenomena which a few years later attended England's return to specie-payments and a specie-currency,--nor statesmen setting themselves gravely down with the map before them to the final settlement of Europe, and, while the ink was yet fresh on their protocols, seeing all the results of their combined wisdom set at nought by the inexorable development of the fundamental principle which they had refused to recognize.

But we have seen these things, and, having seen them, unconsciously apply the knowledge derived from them in our judgment of events to which we have no right to apply it. We condemn errors which we should never have detected without the aid of a light which was hidden from our fathers, and will still be dwelling upon shortcomings which nothing could have avoided but a general diffusion of that wisdom which Providence never vouchsafes except as a gift to a few exalted minds.

Every school-boy has his text-book of political economy now: but many can remember when these books first made their appearance in schools; and so late as 1820 the Professor of History in English Cambridge publicly lamented that there was no work upon this vital subject which he could put into the hands of his cla.s.ses.

When, therefore, our fathers found themselves face to face with the complex questions of finance, they naturally fell back upon the experience and devices of their past history: they did as in such emergencies men always do,--they tried to meet the present difficulty without weighing maturely the future difficulties. The present was at the door, palpable, stern, urgent, relentless; and as they looked at it, they could see nothing beyond half so full of perplexity and danger.

They hoped, as in the face of all history and all experience men will ever hope, that out of those depths which their feeble eyes were unable to penetrate something would yet arise in their hour of need to avert the peril and s.n.a.t.c.h them from the precipice. Their past history had its lessons of encouragement, some thought, and, some thought, of warning.

They seized the example, but the admonition pa.s.sed by unheeded.

Short as the chronological record of American history then was, that exchange of the products of labor which so speedily grows up into commerce had already pa.s.sed through all its phases, from direct barter to bank-notes and bills of exchange. Men gave what they wanted less to get what they wanted more, the products of industry without doors for the products of industry within doors; and it was only when they felt the necessity of adding to their stock of luxuries or conveniences from a distance that they experienced the want of money. Prices naturally found their own level,--were what, when left to themselves they always are, the natural expression of the relations between demand and supply.