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Joe; "but there's no needs of hurry- I'll warrant the horse they've got with 'em for a quiet un, cause why he's dead, and the windows is all up and only one broke - they can't be more comfortable considering, whether I takes a little drop of summut or not; so saying, the postilion, like a new member of parliament, took his place with an oath, and couldn't be persuaded to vacate his seat till he had accepted something equivalent to the Chiltern Hundreds. His appetite and thirst satisfied, he set forth, accompanied by boots, ostler, and potboy, though in all but a pair, for the last three offices were monopolised by one individual they took with them a spare horse, and a bottle of something against the night air, from Mrs. Hanway, for the especial use of the invalid, and which, be it said, went undiminished by a single drop to its destination.
By this time the wind had become somewhat "blown and scant of breath," only "roaring as gently as a sucking dove;" but although time's whole eleven upon the clock
TYLNEY HALL.
9 had been bowled out, each several member of the whist club seemed inclined to act as a long stop; a departure from their established rule which could only be justified by the expectation of postchaise travellers at "The Rabbits." They were longer than ever they were before in discussing their second tumblers, and several, encouraged by the example of the president himself, went even so far as to call for a glass beyond their ordinary stint; the third tumbler despatched, they were slower than ever had been known in the appropriation of their peculiar great-coats and hats, and far more careful than common in the adjustment of capes, collars, and silk handkerchiefs. Armed at last at all points against weather, they were even then a thousand times more particular than they had ever been in their inquiries as to the state of the night; and sundry deputations made a brief excursion into the open air, for the ostensible purpose of verifying the meteorological reports which they had received. In short, they temporised as adroitly as diplomatists of a higher grade, for the attainment of an unavowed object. Fortune, however, which had denied them a game at long whist, afforded them, by way of amends, a protracted game of patience; for whether Joe had understated the distance, or had met with unforeseen obstacles, it was a full hour before his wheels rattled up to Jonas's rabbit hutch. In the mean time
Mrs. Hanway had made the most precautionary preparations for the reception of guests who she understood had come from a hot climate into a cold one. Accordingly, as soon as the young gentleman alighted, he was caught up in a warm blanket and carried kicking up stairs by the sturdy Jonas: the next comer, before he left the steps of the chaise, had a conservative handkerchief clapped up to his face by the considerate Mrs. Hanway; and as she thought proper to get him out of the damp air of the passage as quickly as possible, the gazers who lined the door of the club-room in expectation of seeing the stranger, caught only a momentary glimpse of a travelling cap, a bandana, and a blue cloak-followed by a treacle-posset and a warming pan. "Well," said the manufacturer of tombstones, as the
TYLNEY HALL.
effigy glided up stairs, "that's what I call 'sic transit ;"" and with this remark he caught up his hat and sallied forth homewards with his neighbours of the village.
CHAPTER III
You cannot hunt to-day, to-day, You cannot hunt to-day!-
But a hunting we will go !
THOMAS ROUNDING.
In the list of hunting appointments, as given in the County Chronicle, the meeting of the H-hounds for
Saturday, the 20th of November, was advertised to take place at Windmill Grange, a fixture which brought the pack into the vicinity of Hanway's public house. The morning was beautiful for hunting, that is to say, what some people would have called rather muggy, with very little wind from the south, and a cloudy sky. Owing to this auspicious weather the field was more numerous than usual; and the sportsmen welcomed with peculiar pleasure the first appearance for the season of their old friend and leader Sir Mark Tyrrel, of Tylney Hall, the master of the hunt. During the last two months a martyr to the gout, though he would rather have been one of Fox's Martyrs, he had never mounted a horse. The woeful case of Witherington in Chevy Chase was light compared with the
Baronet's, who had thus four legs taken from under him, for, in reality, he was a modern Centaur.
He did not, however, make as manful a fight as the bold esquire in the ballad-like the ancients knights, he felt quite helpless when unhorsed, and, after a feeble struggle, surrendered himself quietly into the hands of Dr. Bellamy, the family physician. The doctor, a formalist of the old school, was, like Ollapod, a great advocate for spring physic; and having vainly tried for some years past to persuade Sir Mark to go through a course of May medicine, seized with avidity on an opportunity for making him swallow the whole
TYLNEY HALL.
11 arrears in November. Accordingly he drenched his pa tient so vigorously, that the latter began sometimes to doubt whether he had not better have called in the professional assistance of Master Burton, a practitioner whose prescriptions were administered by help of a pitchfork and a cow's horn. It is impossible to say how far he might have been eventually reduced, if he had not washed down every lowering draught with a large bumper of Madeira, in furtherance of which, his housekeeper, who was no friend to Sangrado, caused his gruel to become caudle, and his broth to be as like soup as possible: the best way, she said, to keep the gout from flying to his stomach, was by filling it with something else. By a similar freedom his barley-water was rendered into Burton ale, and his composing draught into a bishop. At last, on a Saturday morning, when the doctor called with a design of allowing a little air and gentle exercise in a garden chair, he was informed that his patient had suffered a relapse into health, and had gone off suddenly on Bedlamite, to meet the hounds at Windmill Grange.
The appearance of the Baronet at the rendezvous in buckskins and scarlet, and mounted on his famous grey horse, was hailed with more than one involuntary view halloo, notwithstanding such a sound was in the highest degree unseasonable, considering the time and place. The hounds had been already thrown into cover, and were drawing with admirable steadiness, and the silence of death, when the ill-timed welcome drew them all off, huntsman, whippers-in, and company, to the sound- to the infinite chagrin of all parties, brute or human; however, the pack was speedily at work again in the underwood, amongst which fifty vigorous tails were busily ranging, when another, and still more unsportsmanlike shouting from the opposite side of the wood, drew the whole cavalry like a trumpet-call in that direction. In a moment the horsemen gained the spot from which the sound proceeded, and discovered a postboy on a tall, rawboned, piebald mare, that was floundering and struggling her way through a patch of gorse. The rider, who never ceased his outcry, was immediately encircled by a score of horsemen, all open-
TYLNEY HALL. |
The post, too brought the daily papers, now all filled with the first speech the Marquis of Penmorra had ever made in the House of Commons. He had spoken on a most important question, for nearly four hours and a greater burst of eloquence, and pointed argument, had never flowed from the lips of an orator or statesman. The applause he had met with in the house, the universal approbation out of it, filled many a line of each paper, delineated by the hand of high eulogium. Such deserved applause had been sweet incense to the heart of Julia, even one day sooner. But now, she sickened as she read, and turned from these praises of Penmorra in agonized regret. 'Ah!' she sighed, why is not his mind, replete with endowments, all good, as well as great? Then with what exultation, might she not dwell on every eulogy, so merited! and not, as now, blushing, in shame, to think, she had given one approving thought to a man who could profane such transcendent talents.'
CHAPTER XXVIII.
JULIA, remembering her promise to poor Dame Banks, went this morning (as soon after the arrival of the post as she could collect firmness to undertake the visit,) alone, to the afflicted woman's cottage. She was infinitely shocked to find the venerable dame much worse than the early message brought her in the morning had taught her to expect, and most strikingly altered in countenance since the preceding day. She was now in bed, unable to rise; and, supported by pillows, was taking from her nurse a teaspoonful of some cordial which Doctor Harlow had ordered for her, and Mrs Beville kindly sitting by her, when our heroine entered her neat, though homely, chamber.
The moment Julia approached her, she beamed a sad and ghastly smile and her glassy lustreless eyes rested wistfully upon her, while, in the hollow feeble tone of receding life, she called our heroine to come near her. Julia obeyed: and the heart-broken parent softly whispered to her (for her articulation was now sunk to nothing louder,) 'Here, dear young lady! take this key. It belongs to a little box which stands on the dresser below. In that 1 put yesterday, after I saw you, some terrible letters I found of the base and cruel squire to my undone child. Take them, dear lady! and do with them what you think best. They have given the last blow to me! though I did not rightly understand all their meaning. But I had the misery to make out enough to fear my child is undone, both here and hereafter.
I am dying, dear young lady! not of age, for that would yet have spared me; but of a broken heart. And here on my death-bed- and I feel in some of the last words I shall ever speak - I implore you to try all your powers for my Fanny's eternal salvation; and bring her back, by the road of true repentance, to that blessed path she has forsaken.'
Julia now hastened, with all the consoling kindness her humanity inspired, to inform the dying parent of what she had already done for Fanny's rescue from the path of vice, by her letter, that morning to Doctor Sydenham, through whose piety and active benevolence Julia entertained not a doubt but Fanny would be reclaimed. Rays of renovated fire beamed from the eyes of poor Dame Banks, as she eagerly listened to Julia's consolation, in her plans for Fanny's reformation, and future support in the path of virtue. 'May the Almighty bless you!' exclaimed the expiring dame, in a tone of enthusiastic energy. Then
I may hope to see my child in heaven! Oh, bless you! bless you! A smile of joy now irradiated her pallid countenance, as she made the last effort of exhausted nature, in an impulse of gratitude, to embrace our heroine, in whose bosom she, with a deep-drawn sigh, closed her eyes forever.
The shock was direful to our poor sensitive Julia, who for some moments, believing she had only fainted, would not relinquish her supporting aid. But, alas! the increasing weight of her burden, and the marble chill of death which struck to her bosom's vital warmth, at length bore conviction to the trembling grief-struck heart, that all was over, and that the thread of life, which age had spared, the vices of the man she loved had snapped. With the assistance of Beville and the nurse, she was now released from the cold remains of the heart-rived parent. For some moments she gazed in awful
silence upon the lifeless form of mortality; then, bursting into a flow of tears, descended to the room below, where she indulged in the first gush of her deeply-wounded sensibility.
After composing herself, she took the packet of letters from the little box; put them in her pocket; and hastened to bend her sorrowful steps towards the castle, to send some assistance to Beville and the nurse; who, not in the least expecting so speedy a dissolution, were unprepared for the event.
Julia, overpowered by the unexpected shock, of receiving on her bosom the last breath of a fellow-creature, and agonized with the reflection of who had virtually caused that shock for her, with faltering steps proceeded homewards. Unwilling to encounter any one at present, she took a path along the margin of a winding stream, the most lonely and unfrequented in the grounds of Delamore-castle. It had, ere the commencement of autumn, been among her favorite walks.
But now the fallen leaves along the sloping bank, wet with heavy dews (which the sun had not power to penetrate to dry up, precluded by the close contact of the overhanging wood, and where the gardeners had not been that day, to sweep away,) impeded her progress. The path now was slippery and unpleasant: and she at length found her feet were completely wet. But she had gone so far, without once bestowing a thought upon how she was getting on, that, when a narrowlyescaped fall into the stream aroused her to a sense of the inconvenience she was suffering, and the danger she was exposed to, she perceived she had got about half way along the path and it was therefore as well to go on as to recede.
She accordingly proceeded, and with awakened terror.
Added to her other sensations, her irritated nerves, trembling, and weakened by a variety of causes, presented dangers that did not exist; and impeded her in shunning those that did.
She now advanced about a dozen yards farther, slipping every moment through apprehension of doing so, and saving herself by the friendly overhanging boughs of the trees, when a squirrel sprung up just before her, and bounded in full speed up a tree. Our heroine, alarmed by the sudden appearance of a living animal among the fallen leaves, and in the moment of surprise conceiving it to be a rat, a thing to her most formidable, started back with an intention to retreat.
But in the meditated attempt her feet slipped: and, unable to catch aid in time, she fell on the bank, and sprained one of her ancles, which gave her infinite pain: and after several efforts to proceed, she found herself unable.
Julia was now in a most distressing perplexity. Her feet completely wet with dew― the two poor women at the cottage
and she was here expecting assistance through her means disabled from proceeding, and at a distance too great from the castle even to hope for aid from thence; her only chance of it arising from the gardeners coming hither to clear away the leaves, or some one straying into the walk which ran parallel with, and almost joined, the luckless path she had inadvertently taken. She now moved to the driest spot she could perceive near her, and seated herself on a little mound at the back of an alcove which stood in the adjoining walk, but to which her passage was cut off by the impenetrably interwoven wood: and here she resolved to wait, as patiently as the unpleasantness of her situation would admit, in the anxious hope that some one would come within her call. |
605 objection that can be made on that head, and cannot justly be reputed a plagiary, if to the passages taken from others, I add a series of remarks peculiar to myself. I very soon desisted from my search after the other books on the Turkish affairs, in the French and Italian languages; for, after having run over a great number of them, I found them to contain little more than the same facts, which are related more elegantly by the abovementioned authors, with the addition of some idle fables and impertinent projects. As to the Greek writers of the Byzantine history, who have given us an account of the Turks, it was the less necessary to examine them with attention, as Knolles seems to have reduced them to their quintessence; and, indeed, the generality of those historians were more attentive to the harmony of their periods, and the beauty of their expressions, than either to the truth of the facts which they related, or to the solidity of the remarks deduced from them. They were no longer those excellent Greeks, whose works remain to this age, as a perfect example of the noblest sentiments delivered in the purest style: they seemed to think, that fine writing consisted in a florid exuberance of words, and that, if they pleased the ear, they were sure to satisfy the heart: they even knowingly corrupted the Asiatic names, to give them a more agreeable sound,* by which *Thus they changed Togrul Beg into Tangrolipix, and Azzo'ddin† into Azatines. عزالدین the strength of religion.
APPENDIX.
they have led their successors into a number of ridiculous errors, and have given their histories the air of a romance.
Before I proceed to the books, which the Turks themselves have written on their own affairs, it will be necessary to make a digression on their literature in general, lest the opinion which most men entertain of the Turkish ignorance, should induce some of them to suspect the authority of these works, or even to doubt of their existence.
It is a ridiculous notion, then, which prevails among us, that ignorance is a principle of the Mohammedan religion, and that the Koran instructs the Turks not to be instructed. I have heard many sensible men inveighing against the mean policy of Mohammed, who they say commanded his followers to be ignorant, lest they should one day or other learn that he had imposed upon them.
There is not a shadow of truth in this; Mohammed not only permitted but advised his people to apply themselves to learning. He says expressly in his strange book, where there are many fine ideas mixed with a heap of rubbish, that the man who has knowledge for his portion, has received a valuable gift; and among his sayings, which were preserved by his intimate friends, and are now considered as authentic, there are several which recommend learning in the strongest terms; as, The ink of the learned, and the blood of martyrs, are equal value in heaven, and Learning is permitted to all believers, both male and female: not to men-
APPENDIX.
607 tion that precept of his, which is well known, Seek learning, though it were in China. 'There would be no end of quoting all the striking expressions of this singular man, and the ablest professors of his religion, in praise of knowledge and letters; indeed, we all know, no modern nation was ever more addicted to learning of every kind than the Arabians; they cultivated some branches of science with great success, and brought their language to a high degree of clearness and precision; a proof that they had not only men of taste, but even many philosophers among them; for, that language will always be most clear and precise, in which most works of real philosophy have been written. We are willing also to allow, that the Persians have been a polite and ingenious people, which they could not have been without a sufficient culture of their talents. They lay for a long time astonished and stupefied at the rapid progress of the Mohammedan arms; but when they began to revive, and had embraced the religion of their conquerors, they followed their natural bent, and applied themselves with great eagerness to the improvement of their language; which was by that time grown very rich by its mixture with the Arabic. We are no less candid to the Indians, whom we know to have been a wise and inventive nation; we read with pleasure their fables of Pilpai; we adopt their numerical characters; we divert and strengthen our minds with their game of Chess; and, of late years, we
APPENDIX.
have condescended to look into their writings; but, by a strange degree of obstinacy, we persist in considering the Turks as rude, savage, and not only unacquainted with the advantages of learning, but even its avowed persecutors.
This prejudice, absurd as it may seem, is of very ancient growth; it was first brought into Europe at that memorable period, when letters began to revive in the west; and has continued to this day without any diminution. It was the fashion in that age to look upon every person as barbarous, who did not study the philosophy of the old Academy; and because the Turks had driven the
Greeks from their country, it was immediately concluded that they persecuted even the language and learning of that nation.
It is certain, indeed, that the Turks were for many years wholly addicted to arms; but, when they had secured their conquests in Asia, and especially when they were settled in Constantinople, they began to cultivate every species of literature; and their sultans often set them the example. At that time, they were so sensible of the high polish which learning gives to the manners of every nation, that they reflected with disdain on their ancient rudeness; and one of their best poets, quoted by M. d'Herbelot, says, although the rude disposition of the Turks seemed to be a disorder that had no remedy, yet when they dispersed the clouds of ignorance with the study of polite letters, many of
APPENDIX.
609 them became a light to the world.* But here we must be understood to speak merely of poetry, rhetoric, moral philosophy, history, and the less abstruse parts of knowledge; for, we must confess, and the Asiatics confess themselves, that they are far inferior to the natives of Europe in every branch of pure and mixed mathematics, as well as in the arts of painting and sculpture, which their religion forbids them to cultivate: a very absurd piece of superstition! which the Persians and Indians wisely neglected, as they knew that their legislator prohibited the imitation of visible objects to the Arabs of his age, lest they should relapse into their recent folly of adoring images; and that when the reason of the law entirely ceases, the law itself ought also to cease. They begin, however, to imitate our studies; and they would undoubtedly have made a * In Turkish, ترکلک طبعی گرچه اومده بر مرض در که بوقدر ان علاج* لیک علمبل ظلمت جہلی
But this opinion is contradicted by a satirist, who asserts that, if a Turk excelled in every branch of science, and were the ablest scho lar of his age, yet a certain rudeness would ever adhere to his disposition.
R R
APPENDIX. |
Whilst these proceedings were carried on, both houses agreed to an address to the king, that no popish recusants should be admitted into employments of trust and profit, which was followed by a debate on the growth of popery, and the introduction of a bill, afterwards known as the Test Act," for preventing dangers which may happen from popish recusants." The court tried to rouse the dissenters to oppose the bill; but it is a remarkable proof of the feeling 2 Idem, p. 556.
1 Cobbett's Parl. Hist., vol. iv. p. 551.
8 Dalrymple, vol. ii. p. 54. 4 Cobbett's Parl. Hist., vol. iv. p. 560.
1672.] 407 that prevailed against the papists, that the dissenters concurred in the necessity of finding an effectual security against popery, and preferred to be included in the operation of the law, rather than by claiming an exemption to endanger its success. They may have relied on a bill, which their friends brought into the house of commons in the same session, to give ease to dissenters: it passed the commons, but it was stopped by amendments in the house of lords, and before these could be arranged Charles prorogued the parliament.1
The Test Act, -nominally against papists, yet, as requiring a sacramental test to be taken as a qualification for office,-affected all classes of religionists except those of the Church of England; and remaining unrepealed until the reign of George IV., it deprived both catholics and dissenters, for many generations, of equal rights with their episcopalian fellow-subjects. It required" all persons, as well peers as commoners, that did then, or should thereafter, bear any office, civil or military, or receive pay, salary, fee, or wages, by patent or grant from the king-or who should have command or place of trust under the king, or should be of his household, or in his service or employmentto take after their admittance to the office, the several oaths of supremacy and allegiance (the latter contained in the statute 3 James 1.) in the court of chancery or king's bench, or in the court of quarter-sessions of the county where they resided; and should also receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, according to the usages of the Church of England, within three months after their admittance, in some public church, upon Sunday, immediately after divine service and sermon. At the time the oaths were taken, the deponent was to produce a certificate of having taken the sacrament, and also to subscribe a declaration that he believed there is not any transubstantiation in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, or in the elements of bread and wine, or after the consecration thereof by any person whatsoever."
1 Burnet's Own Time, book iii. Cobbett's Parl. Hist., vol. iv. p. 561.
THE TEST ACT.
CHARLES II.
[CH. XVII.
Noncompliance with the requisitions of the act rendered the office or employment void.'
The immediate effect of the Test Act was to deprive the
Duke of York of his office of lord high admiral, and Lord
Clifford of the staff of lord high treasurer; and Lord Arlington, one of the Cabal, has the credit of having contrived the act, knowing that it would prevent his colleague, Lord
Clifford, from continuing in office.2 "The Popish Plot" was the occasion of further severity against the catholics. Charles, in the opening of the seventeenth session of parliament, on the 21st of October, 1677, acquainted them with the discovery of a design against his person by the Jesuits; on which an address was voted to him by the commons, expressing their desire for the preservation of his person, and recommending that the laws should be put into strict force against the papists. The commons engaged in the examination of witnesses, and came to a resolution, that "there had been, and still was, a damnable and hellish plot, contrived and carried on by papist recusants, for murdering the king and subverting the government and protestant religion." A motion was made that the Duke of York should remove himself from the king's person and councils; and before the debate was terminated, the king addressed both houses,-" that he was ready to join in all ways and means to secure the protestant religion; that he would pass any bills they might present to make them safe in the reign of his successor, (if they did not impeach the right of succession, nor restrain his own power, nor the just rights of any protestant successor,) and he desired them to think of some effectual means for the conviction of popish recusants."3 66 These events ushered in "An Act for the more effectual preserving of the King's Person and Government by disabling Papists from sitting in either House of Parliament."
Forasmuch (the preamble states) as divers good laws have
125 Car. II., cap. 2.
3 Cobbett's Parliamentary History, vol. iv. p. 1006.
Dalrymple, vol. i. p. 54.
1677.J 409 been made for preventing the increase and danger of popery in this kingdom, which have not had the desired effects by reason of the free access which popish recusants had to his majesty's court, and by reason of the liberty which of late some of the recusants have had and taken to sit and vote in parliament,-wherefore, for the safety of the king's royal person and government, it enacted, that no peer of the realm, or member of the house of peers, should vote, or make his proxy in the house of peers, or sit there during debate; no member of the house of commons should vote, or sit there in any debate, after their Speaker is chosen,until they should respectively first take the several oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and subscribe and audibly repeat (in the form of words given in the act) the declaration against transubstantiation, and that the invocation or adoration of the Virgin, or any other saint, and the sacrifice of the mass as used in the Church of Rome, are superstitious and idolatrous. The oaths and declaration were required to be taken and made at the table of each house with the Speaker in the chair. Peers or members offending against the act became popish recusant convicts, were disabled to hold any office under the crown or to sit in parliament, to sue in any action or to be guardian or executor, and were declared incapable of any legacy or deed of gift, and should forfeit £500, to be recovered by any common informer."l
PARLIAMENTARY TEST ACT.
Charles gave the royal assent to the act on the 30th of November. In the alarm that prevailed in the nation from the popish plot, the parliament had passed a bill for raising the militia, and for keeping it together six weeks,--a measure which alarmed the jealousy of the king. Charles's conduct on this occasion is remarkable for its resemblance to that of his father, Charles I., in defending any inroad on his power over the militia. He pleaded the merit of passing the Test Bill, to excuse himself from passing the Militia Bill, which," he said, "put the militia for so many days out of
130 Car. II., cap. i.
CHARLES II.
[CH. XVII.
his power; and that he would not comply with, though but for half an hour."1
The king prorogued the parliament on the 30th of December, promising that he would prosecute inquiry into the plot, and do all in his power for the security of religion, and the maintenance of it, as then established.
The reign of Charles II. has been described by Mr. Fox as "the era of good laws and bad government."3 The pro- ceedings of the government we are not now concerned in examining; of the good laws referred to, we have considered those which abolished the court of wards and established triennial parliaments; we have yet to consider the act for taking away the writ De Heretico Comburendo, and above all, the Habeas Corpus Act, which completes Mr. Fox's list. |
Now, sir, as your Spectator has occasioned the publishing of this invention for the benefit of modest spectators, the inventor desires your admonitions concerning the decent use of it; and hopes, by your recommendation, that, for the future, beauty may be beheld without the torture and confusion which it suffers from the insolence of starers. By this means you will relieve the innocent from an insult which there is no law to punish, though it is a greater offence than many which are within the cognizance of justice." 'I am, sir, "Your most humble servant,
ABRAHAM SPY.
Q.
The optical glass here mentioned is very common and very contemptible.
No. 251.
THE SPECTATOR.
No. 251. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 18.
-Linguae centum sunt, oraque centum, Ferrea vox-
-A hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs.
VIRG.
DRYDEN.
THERE is nothing which more astonishes a foreigner, and frights a country 'squire, than the cries of London. My good friend Sir Roger, often declares that he can not get them out of his head, or go to sleep for them, the first werk that he is in town. On the contrary, Will Honeycomb calls them the Ramage de la ville, and prefers them to the sounds of larks and nightingales, with all the music of the fields and woods. I have lately receive a letter from some very odd fellow upon this subject; which I shall leave with my reader, without saying any thing further of it.
6 SIR, 'I am a man out of all business, and would willingly turn my head to any thing for an honest livelihood. I have invented several projects for raising many millions of money without burdening the subject, but I can not get the parliament to listen to me, who look upon me, forsooth, as a crack and a projector, so that, despairing to enrich either myself or my country by this publicspiritedness, I would make some proposals to you relating to a design which I have very much at heart, and which may procure me a very handsome subsistence, if you will be pleased to recommend it to the cities of London and Westminster, 2 1 1
No. 251.
THE SPECTATOR.
"The post I would aim at, is to be comptrollergeneral of the London-cries, which are at present under no manner of rules or discipline. I think I am pretty well qualified for this place, as being a man of very strong lungs, of great insight into all the branches of our British trades and manufactures, and of a competent skill in music. 'The cries of London may be divided into vocal and instrumental. As for the latter, they are at present under a very great disorder. A freeman of London has the privilege of disturbing a whole street for an hour together with the twanking of a brass kettle or a frying-pan. The watchman's thump at midnight startles us in our beds as much as the breaking in of a thief. The sowgelder's horn has indeed something musical in it, but this is seldom heard within the liberties. 1 would therefore propose, that no instrument of this nature should be made use of, which I have not tuned and licensed, after having carefully examined in what manner it may affect the ears of her majesty's liege subjects.
Vocal cries are of a much larger extent, and indeed so full of incongruities and barbarisms, that we appear a distracted city to foreigners, who do not comprehend the meaning of such enormous outcries. Milk is generally sold in a note above E-la, and in sounds so exceeding shrill, that it often sets our teeth on edge. The chimney-sweeper is confined to no certain pitch; he sometimes utters himself in the deepest bass, and sometimes in the sharpest treble; sometimes in the highest, and sometimes in the lowest note of the gamut. The same observation might be made on the retailers of small coal, not to mention bro-
THE SPECTATOR.
No. 251.
ken glasses or brick-dust. In these, therefore, and the like cases, it should be my care to sweeten and mellow the voices of these itinerant tradesmen, before they make their appearance in our streets, as also to accommodate their cries to their respective wares; and to take care in particular, that those may not make the most noise who have the least to sell, which is very observable in the venders of card-matches, to whom I can not but apply that old proverb of Much cry, but little wool.'
'Some of these last-mentioned musicians are so very loud in the sale of these trifling manufactures, that an honest splenetic gentleman of my acquaintance bargained with one of them never to come into the street where he lived: but what was the effect of this contract? Why the whole tribe of card-match-makers which frequent that quarter, passed by his door the very next day, in hopes of being bought off after the same manner.
It is another great imperfection in our London cries, that there is no just time nor measure observed in them. Our news should indeed be published in a very quick time, because it is a commodity that will not keep cold. It should not, however, be cried with the same precipitation as fire; yet this is generally the case: a bloody battle alarms the town from one end to another in an instant. Every motion of the French is published in so great a hurry, that one would think the enemy were at our gates. This likewise I would take upon me to regulate in such a manner, that there should be some distinction made between the spreading of a victory, a march, or an encampment, a Dutch, a Portugal, or a 1 17
No. 251.
THE SPECTATOR.
181 Spanish mail. Nor must I omit, under this head, those excessive alarms with which several boisterous rustics infest our streets in turnip-season, and which are more inexcusable, because these are wares which are in no danger of cooling upon their hands. "There are others who affect a very slow time, and are, in my opinion, much more tuneable than the former, the cooper in particular, swells his last note in a hollow voice, that is not without its harmony; nor can I forbear being inspired with a most agreeable melancholy, when I hear that sad and solemn air with which the public are very often asked if they have any chairs to mend?
Your own memory may suggest to you many other lamentable ditties of the same nature, in which the music is wonderfully languishing and melodious.
I am always pleased with that particular time of the year which is proper for the picking of dill and cucumbers; but alas! this cry, like the song of the nightingale, is not heard above two months.
It would, therefore, be worth while to consider, whether the same air might not in some cases be adapted to other words. 'It might likewise deserve our most serious consideration, how far, in a well regulated city, those humorists are to be tolerated, who, not contented with the traditional cries of their forefathers, have invented particular songs and tunes of their own; such as was, not many years since, the pastry man, commonly known by the name of the Colly-Molly-Puff, and such as is at this This little man was but just able to support the basket of pastry which he carried on his head, and sung in a very
VOL. V.
THE SPECTATOR.
No. 251.
day the vender of powder and wash-balls, who, if I am rightly informed, goes under the name of Powder-Wat. |
"Forester, Mistress Patience, that is the real word that you should not have hesitated to have used: do you imagine that I am ashamed of my calling?”
"To tell you candidly the truth, then," replied Patience, “I cannot believe that you are what you profess to be. I mean to say, that although a forester now, you were never brought up as such. My father has an opinion allied to mine.” "I thank you both for your good opinion of me, but I fear that
I cannot raise myself above the condition of a forester; nay, from your father's coming down here, and the new regulations, I have every chance of sinking down to the lower grade of a deer-stealer and poacher; indeed, had it not been that I had my gun with me, I should have been seized as such this very day as I came over." "But you were not shooting the deer, were you, Sir?" inquired Patience. "No, I was not; nor have I killed any since last I saw you." "I am glad that I can say that to my father," replied Patience, "it will much please him. He said to me that he thought you capable of much higher employment than any that could be offered here, and only wished to know what you would accept. He has interest. -great interest-although just now at variance with the rulers of this country, on account of the--"
"Murder of the King, you would or you should have said, Mistress Patience: I have heard how much he was opposed to that foul deed, and I honour him for it." "How kind, how truly kind you are to say so!" said Patience, the tears starting in her eyes, "what pleasure to hear my father's conduct praised by you!" "Why, of course, Mistress Patience, all of my way of thinking must praise him. Your father is in London, I hear?” "Yes, he is; and that reminds me that you must want some refreshment after your walk. I will call Phoebe." So saying, Patience left the room.
The fact was, Mistress Patience was reminded that she had been sitting with a young man some time, and alone with himwhich was not quite proper in those times; and when Phoebe appeared with the cold viands, she retreated out of hearing but remained in the room.
Edward partook of the meal offered him in silence, Patience occupying herself with her work, and keeping her eyes fixed on it, unless when she gave a slight glance at the table to see if anything was required. When the meal was over, Phoebe removed the tray, and then Edward rose to take his leave. "Nay, do not go yet-I have much to say first; let me again ask you how we can serve you." "I never can take any office under the present rulers of the nation, so that question is at rest." "I was afraid you would answer so," replied Patience, gravely: "do not think I blame you; for many are there already who would gladly retrace their steps if it were possible. They little thought, when they opposed the King, that affairs would have ended as they have done. Where do you live, Sir?" “At the opposite side of the Forest, in a house belonging to me now, but which was inherited by my grandfather." "Do you live alone--surely not?”
"No, I do not." "Nay, you may tell me anything, for I would never repeat what might hurt you, or you might not wish to have known." "I live with my brother and two sisters, for my grandfather is lately dead." "Is your brother younger than you are?" "He is." "And your sisters, what are their ages?" "They are younger still." "You told my father that you lived upon your farm?" "We do." "Is it a large farm?" "No; very small.” "And does that support you?" "That and killing wild cattle has lately." "Yes, and killing deer also until lately?" "You have guessed right." "You were brought up at Arnwood, you told my father; did you not?" "Yes, I was brought up there, and remained there until the death of Colonel Beverley." "And you were educated, were you not?" "Yes; the Chaplain taught me what little I do know." "Then, if you were brought up in the house and educated by the Chaplain, surely Colonel Beverley never intended you for a forester?" "He did not; I was to have been a soldier as soon as I was old enough to bear arms." "Perhaps you are distantly related to the late Colonel Beverley." "No; I am not distantly related,” replied Edward, who began to feel uneasy at this close cross-examination; "but still, had
Colonel Beverley been alive, and the King still required his ser-
vices, I have no doubt that I should have been serving under him at this time. "And now, Mistress Patience, that I have answered so many questions of yours, may I be permitted to ask a little about yourself in return? "Have you any brothers?" "None; I am an only child." "Have you only one parent alive?" "Only one." "What families are you connected with?"
Patience looked up with surprise at this last question- "My mother's name was Cooper; she was sister to Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper, who is a person well known." "Indeed! then you are of gentle blood?" "I believe so," replied Patience, with surprise. "Thank you for your condescension, Mistress Patience; and now, if you will permit me, I will take my leave." "Before you go, let me once more thank you for saving a worthless life," said Patience: "well, you must come again when my father is here; he will be but too glad to have an opportunity of thanking one who has preserved his only child. Indeed, if you knew my father, you would feel as much regard for him as I do. He is very good, although he looks so stern and melancholy, but he has seldom smiled since my poor mother's death." "As to your father, Mistress Patience, I will think as well as
I can of one who is joined to a party which I hold in detestation;
I can say no more." "I must not say all that I know, or you would perhaps find out, that he is not quite so wedded to that party as you suppose.
Neither his brother-in-law nor he are great friends of Cromwell's, I can assure you; but this in confidence." "That raises him in my estimation; but why then does he hold office?"
"He did not ask it; it was given to him, I really believe, because they wished him out of the way; and he accepted it because he was opposed to what was going on, and wished himself to be away. At least I infer so much from what I have learnt. It is not an office of power or trust which leagues him with the present Government." "No; only one which opposes him to me and my mal-practices," replied Edward, laughing. "Well, Mistress Patience, you have shown great condescension to a poor forester, and I return you many thanks for your kindness towards me: I will now take my leave." "And when will you come and see my father?" "I cannot say; I fear that I shall not be able very soon to look in his injured face, and it will not be well for a poacher to come near him,” replied Edward: "however, some day I may be taken and brought before you as a prisoner, you know, and then he is certain to see me." "I will not tell you to kill deer," replied Patience, "but if you do kill them no one shall harm you-or I know little of my power or my father's. Farewell then, Sir, and once more gratitude and thanks."
Patience held out her hand again to Edward, who this time, like a true cavalier, raised it respectfully to his lips. Patience coloured a little but did not attempt to withdraw it, and Edward, with a low obeisance, quitted the room.
CHAPTER XIII.
As soon as he was out of the Intendant's house, Edward hastened to the cottage of Oswald Partridge, whom he found waiting for him, for the verderer had not failed to deliver his message. "You have had a long talk with Mistress Patience,” said Oswald, after the first greeting, "and I am glad of it, as it gives
you consequence here. The Roundhead rascal whom you met was inclined to be very precise about doing his duty, and insisted that he was certain that you were on the look-out for deer; but I stopped his mouth by telling him that I often took you out with me, as you were the best shot in the whole forest, and that the |
command. For organization he had a masterly talent; but he could not apply it to the arts of peace, both because he wanted experience and because the rash decision of the battle-field will not serve in matters which are governed by natural laws of growth. He seems, indeed, to have had a coarse, soldier's contempt for all civil distinction, altogether unworthy of a wise king, or even of a prudent one. He confers the title of Hofrath on the husband of a woman with whom his General Walrave is living in what Mr. Carlyle justly calls "brutish polygamy," and this at Walrave's request, on the ground that "a general's drab ought to have a handle to her ame." Mr. Carlyle murmurs in a mild parenthesis that we rather regret this"! (Vol. III. p. 559.) This is his usual way of treating unpleasant matters, sidling by with a deprecating shrug of the shoulders. Not that he ever wilfully suppresses anything. On the contrary, there is no greater proof of his genius than the way in which, while he seems to paint a character with all its disagreeable traits, he contrives to win our sympathy for it, nay, almost our liking. This is conspicuously true of his portrait of Friedrich's father; and that he does not succeed in making Friedrich himself attractive is a strong argument with us that the fault is in the subject and not the artist. 66 The book, we believe, has been comparatively unsuccessful as a literary venture. Nor do we wonder at it.
It is disproportionately long, and too much made up of those descriptions of battles to read which seems even more difficult than to have won the victory itself, more disheartening than to have suffered the defeat.
To an
American, also, the warfare seemed Liliputian in the presence of a conflict so much larger in its proportions and significant in its results. The interest, moreover, flags decidedly toward the close, where the reader cannot
CARLYLE.
147 help feeling that the author loses breath somewhat painfully under the effort of so prolonged a course. Mr.
Carlyle has evidently devoted to his task a labor that may be justly called prodigious. Not only has he sifted all the German histories and memoirs, but has visited every battle-field, and describes them with an eye for country that is without rival among historians. The book is evidently an abridgment of even more abundant collections, and yet as it stands the matter overburdens the work. It is a bundle of lively episodes rather than a continuous narrative. In this respect it contrasts oddly with the concinnity of his own earlier Life of Schiller. But the episodes are lively, the humor and pathos spring from a profound nature, the sketches of character are masterly, the seizure of every picturesque incident infallible, and the literary judgments those of a thorough scholar and critic. There is, of course, the usual amusing objurgation of Dryasdust and his rubbishheaps, the usual assumption of omniscience, and the usual certainty of the lively French lady of being always in the right; yet we cannot help thinking that a little of Dryasdust's plodding exactness would have saved Fouquet eleven years of the imprisonment to which Mr.
Carlyle condemns him, would have referred us to St.
Simon rather than to Voltaire for the character of the brothers Belle-Ile, and would have kept clear of a certain ludicrous etymology of the name Antwerp, not to mention some other trifling slips of the like nature.
In conclusion, after saying, as honest critics must, that
"The History of Friedrich II. called Frederick the
Great" is a book to be read in with more satisfaction than to be read through, after declaring that it is open to all manner of criticism, especially in point of moral purpose and tendency, we must admit with thankfulness, that it has the one prime merit of being the work
CARLYLE.
of a man who has every quality of a great poet except that supreme one of rhythm which shapes both matter and manner to harmonious proportion, and that where it is good, it is good as only genius knows how to be.
With the gift of song, Carlyle would have been the greatest of epic poets since Homer. Without it, to modulate and harmonize and bring parts into their proper relation, he is the most amorphous of humorists, the most shining avatar of whim the world has ever seen.
Beginning with a hearty contempt for shams, he has come at length to believe in brute force as the only reality, and has as little sense of justice as Thackeray allowed to women. We say brute force because, though the theory is that this force should be directed by the supreme intellect for the time being, yet all inferior wits are treated rather as obstacles to be contemptuously shoved aside than as ancillary forces to be conciliated through their reason. But, with all deductions, he remains the profoundest critic and the most dramatic imagination of modern times. Never was there a more striking example of that ingenium perfervidum long ago said to be characteristic of his countrymen. His is one of the natures, rare in these latter centuries, capable of rising to a white heat; but once fairly kindled, he is like a three-decker on fire, and his shotted guns go off, as the glow reaches them, alike dangerous to friend or foe.
Though he seems more and more to confound material with moral success, yet there is always something wholesome in his unswerving loyalty to reality, as he understands it. History, in the true sense, he does not and cannot write, for he looks on mankind as a herd without volition, and without moral force; but such vivid pictures of events, such living conceptions of character, we find nowhere else in prose. The figures of most historians seem like dolls stuffed with bran, whose whole sub-
CARLYLE.
It stance runs out through any hole that criticism may tear in them, but Carlyle's are so real in comparison, that, if you prick them, they bleed. He seems a little wearied, here and there, in his Friedrich, with the multiplicity of detail, and does his filling-in rather shabbily; but he still remains in his own way, like his hero, the Only, and such episodes as that of Voltaire would make the fortune of any other writer. Though not the safest of guides in politics or practical philosophy, his value as an inspirer and awakener cannot be over-estimated. is a power which belongs only to the highest order of minds, for it is none but a divine fire that can so kindle and irradiate. The debt due him from those who listened to the teachings of his prime for revealing to them what sublime reserves of power even the humblest may find in manliness, sincerity, and self-reliance, can be paid with nothing short of reverential gratitude. As a purifier of the sources whence our intellectual inspiration is drawn, his influence has been second only to that of Wordsworth, if even to his.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
THE
HERE have been many painful crises since the impatient vanity of South Carolina hurried ten prosperous Commonwealths into a crime whose assured retribution was to leave them either at the mercy of the nation they had wronged, or of the anarchy they had summoned but could not control, when no thoughtful American opened his morning paper without dreading to find that he had no longer a country to love and honor. |
them so well as the Pharisees. But they were divine texts merely,--they never connected themselves with the sheep and the shepherds that wandered over the hills in their day. The sheep would sell for so much in the market the shepherds were hired for so much by the day or the week. There was no other measure of their worth.
Clever teachers might, perhaps, resort to them occasionally for rhetorical illustrations. Secular and vulgar things might be converted, as the phrase is, to the service of religion.
But it would always be felt that they were in themselves secular and vulgar things. God had nothing to do with them till they had been reclaimed. Thus the faith that all creation is divine,--that all occupations are divine,-that God has written His mind and purpose both upon the natural and the civil order of the world, had disappeared. Men no longer walked the earth as a holy place, filled with the presence of their Lord God; it had become utterly separated from Him,-sold and sacrificed to Mammon. Then came the Son of Man, interpreting the world which He had made, and which knew Him not; drawing forth out of it treasures new and old; deciphering the hieroglyphics which wise men had perceived in every rock and cave, in every tree, and in every grain of sand; showing that in Himself was to be found the solution of that sphynx-riddle by which all ages had been tormented.
But even His parables might be turned to an evil use.
It might be supposed that we can only reach the kingdom of heaven through the forms of earth; that they are not the likenesses of the invisible substances, but that the invisible substances are the likenesses of them. This danger is of such continual recurrence, it belongs so essentially to the idolatrous nature which is in us all, that it
must have exhibited itself in the Christian Church before St. John wrote. Long allegories-which seem invented rather to hide the truth from common eyes than to bring it forth that it might be a possession for the wayfarer-began to be produced immediately after the apostolical age, if not within it. Nothing like them is to be found in this Gospel.
Those parts of our Lord's teaching in which the parable was not used are brought into most prominence. Yet the parable is justified; all His acts are shown to be signs.
And a proverb (Tapoμía) is introduced here and there, which enables us to understand in what the worth of these natural likenesses consists, and how much the divine art which draws out the spiritual truth that is latent in them differs from the elaborate artifice of the allegorizer. • Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. All that ever came before me are thieves and robbers: but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy:
I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.'
The formal interpreter of parables would at once decide, that the most important object in the picture which is presented to the eye, must represent Christ the Son of Man. The supposition is a natural one; perhaps it may ultimately prove to be true. But our Lord's first words seem to confute it. His conversation with the
Pharisees leads Him to speak of the gate through which both the sheep and the shepherd enter into the fold, before He speaks of the shepherd. And that gate, He says, is
Himself. All kings, prophets, priests, teachers, had brought
DISCOURSE XIX.
light and life into the minds of men,--had served to bind men into one,--just so far as they had confessed a light and life from which theirs was derived, just so far as they had identified themselves with the people. And all that had come claiming to be the sources of life and light, --to have an independent authority,--to have a right to rule, because they were in themselves stronger, or wiser, or better than others, had been thieves and robbers, the tyrants and destroyers of the earth. There is no commentary on history, the history of the whole world, ancient and modern, so grand as this, so perfectly able to abide the test of facts. Every prophet, and monarch, and priest of the Jews brought strength and freedom into his land, while he was the witness of an invisible Prophet, and Monarch, and Priest higher than himself, living then, one day to be made manifest. Every prophet, monarch, and priest was the cause of superstition, idolatry, and slavery to his land, when he exalted himself,-when he strove to prove that he had some rights of his own which were not conferred on him for the sake of his race,- -which were not conferred that he might be a witness of the glory belonging to his race.
If we read Pagan history and literature by the light of Scripture, we should find abundance of proofs that the maxim is equally true and satisfactory with reference to them; that every Greek or Roman patriot and sage, whom we ought to love, and whom only a heartless, atheistical religion can hinder us from loving, did good and was good, so far as he did not seek his own glory,--so far as he did not attribute his wisdom and power to himself, so far as he was in communion, amidst whatever confusions, with the Light that lighteneth every man;
and that every oppressor and invader of freedom, whose character it is our duty to hate, was so because he came in his own name, claiming to be a king, a Christ, a god.
With tenfold momentum do the words bear upon the ages since the incarnation, and declare to every priest, pope, emperor, philosopher, and master of a sect or school,--' In 'so far as thou hast assumed to be the Son of Man,-in so far as thou hast set thyself to be something when thou art nothing,-in so far as thou hast claimed to have light, which has not come from the Fountain of light,-- ' and power, which is not imparted by the righteous Power, -so far thou hast been a thief and a robber, caring for nothing but to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.' But if in this sense it is true now, and has been true always, that Christ is the only Door through which any man enters, whose designs towards human beings are good and not murderous; can it be equally true that 'the sheep did not hear the voices of false prophets, of usurping tyrants, who climbed up some other way? How then have they prevailed so mightily? Dare we say that no true men have given heed to them? Dare we judge all that have yielded to impostors, all that have welcomed them as deliverers? Shall we not certainly be judged if we do?
Assuredly we shall. And, therefore, let us proceed to judge ourselves first, and at once. We have listened to impostors, have we not? We have been beguiled by men who we thought were to give us life, and really took life from us. Well, but was there nothing in us which refused to hear these teachers, to follow these guides?
Was there no inward protest against them? Where some strong external evidence, some evil fruits in ourselves,
DISCOURSE XIX |
Lambeth; another in Fulham, &c." What! universal? Did ever any of our prelates challenge all the world as his diocese? Is this simplicity or malice? If your pastor tell us", that as well a world as a province, let me return it: if he may be pastor over a parlour-full, why not of a city? and if of a city, why not of a nation?
But these you will prove unruinated towers of that Babel:
You ask, therefore, whether the office of archbishops, bishops, and the rest of that rank, were not in queen Mary's days parts of that accursed hierarchy and members of that Man of Sin :-Doubtless they were. Who can deny it?
n Seven Argum. First Answ. Counterpois.
SECT. XXX.]
59 against the Brownists.
But now, say you, they have the same ecclesiastical jurisdiction continued:-this is your miserable sophistry. Those popish archbishops and bishops and clergy were members of antichrist not as church-governors, but as popish. While they swore subjection to him, while they defended him, while they worshipped him above all that is called God, and extorted this homage from others, how could they be other but limbs of that Man of Sin?
Shall others therefore which defy him, resist, trample upon him, spend their lives and labours in oppugnation of him, be necessarily in the same case, because in the same room?
Let me help your anabaptists with a sound argument. The princes, peers, and magistrates of the land in queen Mary's days were shoulders and arms of antichrist; their calling is still the same: therefore now they are such.
Your master Smith upon no other ground disclaimeth infants' baptism, crying out that this is the main relick of antichristianismo.
But see how, like a wise master, you confute yourself. They are still members of the body, though the head, the pope, be cut off-the head is antichrist; therefore the body without the head is no part of antichrist. He that is without the Head, Christ, is no member of Christ; so contrarily.
I hear you say, the very jurisdiction and office is here antichristian, not the abuse :-What! in them, and not in all bishops since, and in the apostles' times? Alas! who are you, that you should oppose all churches and times? Ignorance of church-story, and not distinguishing betwixt substances and appendances, personal abuses and callings, hath led you to this error.
Yet since you have reckoned up so many popes, let me help you with more. Was there not one in Lambeth when doctor
Cranmer was there? One in Fulham, when Ridley was there?
One in Worcester, when Latimer was there? One at Winchester, when Philpotp was there? We will go higher: was not Hilarius at Arles; Paulinus at Nola; Primasius at Utica; Eucherius at
Lyons; Cyril at Alexandria; Chrysostom at Constantinople;
Augustin at Hippo; Ambrose at Milan? What should I be infinite? Was not Cyprian at Carthage; Euodius, and after him
Ignatius, in St. John's time, at Antioch; Polycarpus at Smyrna; • Character of the Beast against R. in Smithfield, 1555.] Clyfton. q Beatissimus Papa, passim in Epist.
P Archdeacon [of Winchester, burnt Ignat. ad Trallian. Euseb. 1. iii. [c. 36.]
Apology of the Church of England [SECT. XXXI.
Philip at Caesarea; James and Simeon and Cleophas at Jerusalem; and by much consent of antiquityr, Titus in Crete, Timothy at Ephesus, Mark at Alexandria?
Yea, to be short, was there not every where, in all ages, an allowed superiority of church-governors under this title? Look into the frequent subscriptions of all councils and their canons: look into the registers of all times, and find yourself answered.
Let reverend Calvin be our advocates; I would desire no other words to confute you but his. He shall tell you that even in the primitive church the presbyters chose one out of their number in every city whom they titled their bishop, lest dissension should arise from equality.
Let Hemingius teach you that this was the practice of the purest church.
Thus it was ever: and if princes have pleased to annex either large maintenances or styles of higher dignity and respect unto these, do their additions annihilate them? Hath their double honour made void their callings? why more than extreme neediness? If Aristotle would not allow a priest to be a tradesman", yet Paul could yield to homely tent-making: if your elders grow rich or noble, do they cease to be or begin to be unlawful?
But in how many volumes hath this point been fully discussed!
I list not to glean after their full carts.
SEP.
"And so do all the reformed churches in the world, of whose testimony you boast so loud, renounce the prelacy of England, as part of that pseudo-clergy and antichristian hierarchy derived from Rome."
SECT. XXXI.-The Judgment and Practice of other Reformed Churches.
From your own verdict you descend to the testimonies of all reformed churches. r Ex Euseb. Hier. Catalog. Script. gerentur, [et ordinarentur] ut suum mu-
Epiphanio, &c.
nus episcopi singuli probe administrarent, &c. s Calv. Inst. 1. iv. [c. iv. § 2. Genev.
1592. p. 218.] Hieron. Evagrio. [seu
Evangelo.] t Heming. Potest. Eccl. clas. 3. c. 10. [Basil. 1586. p. 459.]-Hinc ecclesia purior, secuta tempora apostolorum, fecit alios patriarchas, quorum erat curare ut episcopi cujusque dioeceseos rite eliu Arist. Pol. 7. [Ed. Congr. 1. iv. c. 9.] v Potentia divitiarum et paupertatis humilitas, vel [sublimiorem] humiliorem vel inferiorem episcopum non facit.-
Hieron. Evagr. [Ed. Erasm. t. ii. p. 329.
Ed. Ben. ad Evangelum, t. iv. pars 2. p. 802.]
SECT. XXXI.]
61 against the Brownists.
I blush to see so wilful a slander fall from the pen of a Christian, that all reformed churches renounce our prelacy as antichristian : what one hath done it? Yea, what one foreign divine of note hath not given to our clergy the right hand of fellowship?
So far is it from this, that J. Alasco was the allowed bishop of our first reformed strangers in this land; so far, that when your doctor found himself urged by M. Spr.* with a cloud of witnesses for our church and ministry, as Bucer, Martyr, Fagius, Alasco, Calvin, Beza, Bullinger, Gualter, Simler, Zanchius, Junius, Rollocus, and others, he had nothing to say for himself; but, "Though you come against us with horsemen and chariots, yet we will remember the name of the Lord our God," Ps. xx. 7: and turns it off with the accusation of a popish plea, and reference to the practice of the reformed y.
And if therefore they have so renounced it, because their practice receives it not; why, like a true makebate, do you not say, that our churches have so renounced their government?
These sisters have learned to differ, and yet to love and reverence each other; and in these cases to enjoy their own forms without prescription of necessity or censure.
Let reverend Beza be the trumpet of all the rest; who tells youz, that the reformed English Churches continue upheld by the authority of bishops and archbishops; that they have had men of that rank, both famous martyrs and worthy pastors and doctors: and, lastly, congratulates this blessing to our Church.
Or let Hemingius tell you the judgment of the Danish Church.
Judicat caeteros ministros, &c. "It judgeth," saith hea, "that other ministers should obey their bishops in all things which make to the edification of the Church, &c."
But what do I oppose any to his nameless "all?" His own silence confutes him enough in my silence.
SEP.-Infallibility of Judgment.
"It seems, the sacred (so called) synod assumeth little less unto herself in her determinations: otherwise, how durst she decree so absolutely as she doth touching things reputed indifferent, viz. that all * [Qu. Sperin.] y Answ. Counterp. Third Consid. z Beza de Ministr. Evang. c. 18.
Defens. [see Defens. Tract. contra Resp.
Beza a Saravia, Lond. 1610. p. 182.] Cited also by D. Down. p. 29. a Heming. Judicat caeteros ministros suis episcopis obtemperare debere.
-Potest. Eccl. Class. iii. c. 10. [ut su pra p. 461.]
Apology of the Church of England [SECT. XXXII. |
Production of Blooms from Ore and Pig Iron in 1882, net 22,286 85,089 160,542 1,696,450 3,014 1,945,095 tons....... 91,293
Value of Imports of Iron and Steel in 1882..
Value of Exports of Iron and Steel in 1882.
Imports of Iron Ore in 1882, gross tons... 589,655
Production of Lake Superior Iron Ore in 1882, gross tons..... 2,943,314
Production of Iron Ore in New Jersey in 1882, gross tons.... 900,000
Production of Anthracite Coal in 1882, gross tons...
Total Production of Coal in 1882, gross tons..............
Miles of Railway Completed in 1882... 11,343
Total number of Miles of Railway December 31, 1882..
Iron Ships Built in the fiscal year ended June 30, 1882.....
Immigrants in the calendar year 1882....... $707,337,049
Net Imports (merchandise) in the fiscal year 1882.
Domestic Exports (merchandise) in the fiscal year 1882.......... $733,239,732
Net Imports (mdse.) first 8 months of fiscal year 1883......... $472,239,153
Domestic Exports (mdse.) first 8 months of fiscal year 1883.. $560,804,286 114,372 43 730,349
STOCKS OF ALL KINDS OF PIG IRON UNSOLD AT THE CLOSE OF 1880, 1881, AND 1882.
These statistics, collected directly from the manufacturers by The American Iron and Steel Association, represent only stocks in the hands of makers or their agents. They do not include stocks in the hands of consumers or speculators, nor foreign iron.
STATES AND DISTRICTS.
New England and New York..... 63,549 34,275 47,654
New Jersey.. 20,780 7,931 12,178
Lehigh Valley....... 48,306 22,704 24,969
Schuylkill Valley. 32,849 23,563 24,029
Upper Susquehanna....
Lower Susquehanna....
Shenango Valley.
Allegheny County...
Miscellaneous bituminous...
Charcoal Pennsylvania. 4,375 2,123 11,173 14,053 10,491 7,935 26,582 7,108 22,045 3,553 500 17,272 25,247 1,321 33,194 9,273 5,614 10,241
Total for Pennsylvania. 164,238 73,424 150,858 Maryland 9,028 2,867 7,280
Va., N. C., Ga., Ala., and Tex. 16,428 16,124 45,132
West Virginia.... 5,271 40 4,268 Kentucky 16,215 4,506 11,186 Tennessee.. 11,643 4,350 13,392
Hanging Rock... 33,607 23,791 40,094
Mahoning Valley.
Miscellaneous
Total for Ohio........... 12,826 Ohio. 24,672 43,804 8,846 22,187 90,237 32,637 87,253
Michigan and Indiana... 18,643 16,175 29,573 Illinois.. 25,134 896
Wisconsin and Minnesota.. 3,340 1,130 5,801 Missouri..... 12,152 11,695 14,223
Colorado and Pacific States..... 5,742
Grand total....... 456,658 210,896 429,694 Bituminous Anthracite
Charcoal
STOCKS ACCORDING TO FUEL USED.
PRODUCTION OF ALL KINDS OF PIG IRON IN 1880, 1881, AND 1882, BY STATES.
STATES.
1880. 1881. 1882. Maine........ Vermont... 3,578 4,400 4,100 1,800 2,796 1,210 Massachusetts. Connecticut.
New York.. 19,017 18,318 10,335 22,583 28,483 24,342 395,361 359,519 416,156
New Jersey. 170,049 171,672 176,805 Pennsylvania 2,083,121 2,190,786 2,449,256 Maryland.. 61,437 48,756 54,524 Virginia...... 29,934 83,711 87,731
North Carolina...... 800 1,150 Georgia.... 27,321 37,404 42,440 Alabama.... 77,190 98,081 112,765 Texas 2,500 3,000 1,321
West Virginia.. 70,338 66,409 73,220 Kentucky 57,708 45,973 66,522 Tennessee. 70,873 87,406 137,602 Ohio..... 674,207 710,546 698,900 Indiana... 12,500 7,300 10,000 Illinois 150,556 251,781 360,407 Michigan 154,424 187,043 210,195 Wisconsin Missouri.. 96,842 102,029 85,859 105,555 109,799 113,644 Minnesota.. 3,520 7,442 8,126
Utah Territory 57 Colorado 6,396 23,718 Oregon.... 5,000 6,100 6,750 California. 4,414 987
Washington Territory. 1,200
ANTHRACITE PIG IRON.
STATES.
1880. 1881. 1882. Massachusetts. 9,155
New York...
New Jersey.. Pennsylvania Maryland 367,517 5,958 322,349 385,440 170,049 171,672 176,805 1,237,930 1,213,353 1,453,646 23,000 21,130 26,247
PRODUCTION OF PIG IRON.- -Continued.
CHARCOAL PIG IRON.
STATES.
1880. 1881. 1882. Maine...... 3,578 4,400 4,100 Vermont.... 1,800 2,796 1,210 Massachusetts. 9,862 12,360 10,335 Connecticut... 22,583 28,483 24,342
New York..... 27,844 30,467 30,716 Pennsylvania 43,374 51,908 49,975 Maryland 33,050 27,626 28,277 Virginia. 14,043 19,038 26,133
North Carolina..... 800 1,150 Georgia
7,277 13,404 15,565 Alabama. 37,737 44,221 55,541 Texas.... 2,500 3,000 1,321
West Virginia.. 3,245 1,200 Kentucky 21,174 16,778 17,165 Tennessee 16,675 19,046 37,611 Ohio...... 69,190 66,169 58,654 Indiana.. 2,000 Michigan 154,424 187,043 210,195 Wisconsin Missouri..... 42,913 47,702 55,369 15,769 43,241 54,327 Minnesota.. 3,520 7,442 8,126
Utah Territory. 57 Oregon 5,000 6,100 6,750 California 4,414 987
Washington Territory... 1,200 Total.. 537,558 638,838 697,906
BITUMINOUS COAL AND COKE PIG IRON.
New York..... 6,703 Pennsylvania. 801,817 925,525 945,635 Maryland 5,387 Virginia. 15,891 64,673 61,598 Georgia 20,044 24,000 26,875 Alabama.. 39,453 53,860 57,224
West Virginia.. 67,093 65,209 73,220 Kentucky 36,534 29,195 49,357 Tennessee. 54,198 68,360 99,991 Ohio......... 605,017 644,377 640,246 Indiana. 10,500 7,300 10,000 Illinois Wisconsin.. 150,556 251,781 360,407 53,929 54,327 30,490 Missouri... Colorado 89,786 66,558 59,317 6,396 23,718
PRODUCTION OF PIG IRON.-Continued.
PRODUCTION ACCORDING TO FUEL USED.
KINDS OF FUEL.
1880. 1881. 1882. Anthracite 1,807,651 1,734,462 2,042,138 Charcoal 537,558 638,838 697,906 Bituminous.. 1,950,205 2,268,264 2,438,078 Total...... 4,295,414 4,641,564 5,178,122
PRODUCTION OF PIG IRON IN CERTAIN DISTRICTS.
Lehigh Valley...... 544,987 560,190 609,338 Ohio. Pennsylvania.
Schuylkill Valley..... 306,926 309,049 342,701
Upper Susquehanna... 168,128 125,785 201,367
Lower Susquehanna... 217,889 218,329 300,240
Shenango Valley.. 215,313 198,968 264,078
Allegheny County. 300,497 385,453 358,840
Miscellaneous coke. 286,007 341,104 322,717 Charcoal 43,374 51,908 49,975
Hanging Rock coke..... 60,316 77,500 77,364
Mahoning Valley.... 226,877 245,737 258,478
Hocking Valley.. 85,719 88,146 78,770
Miscellaneous coke...... 232,105 232,994 225,634
Hanging Rock charcoal.. 64,854 61,487 55,546
Miscellaneous charcoal.. 4,336 4,682 3,108
PRODUCTION OF PLATE AND SHEET IRON (EXCLUDING NAIL PLATE) IN THE UNITED STATES IN 1880, 1881, AND 1882.
Net tons of 2,000 pounds.
STATES.
New Hampshire..... Massachusetts..
New York. 100 29,640 29,446 35,688 2,062 4,945 3,023
New Jersey. 921 1,823 2,016 Pennsylvania.. 223,940 251,225 258,603 Delaware... 10,506 10,355 12,895 Maryland..... 14,645 14,215 16,590
District of Columbia.. 11 82 29
West Virginia..... 5,550 6,234 7,991 Kentucky.. 10,348 6,035 16,380 Ohio........ 33,826 37,327 49,182 Indiana... 6,500 975 542 Michigan.. 7,265 5,920 3,820 Missouri... 4,343 4,500 6,055
Total....
PRODUCTION OF ROLLED IRON (EXCLUDING RAILS AND PLATE AND SHEET IRON) IN 1880, 1881, AND 1882.
STATES.
Bar, bolt, rod, skelp, hoop, and shaped iron, and rolled axles.-Net tons. 1880. 1881. 1882. Maine..... 7,639 5,433 10,537
New Hampshire..... 3,000 3,000 3,508 Massachusetts.. 48,323 58,524 46,086
Rhode Island.. 7,632 10,769 11,877 Connecticut.. 16,046 17,589 20,676
New York.... 106,274 106,372 131,226
New Jersey. Pennsylvania. 48,995 56,793 76,408 551,302 714,113 685,049 Delaware.. 19,300 23,920 25,366 Maryland 19,400 18,517 17,067
District of Columbia.. 265 220 121 Virginia....... 31,441 33,984 31,554 Georgia. 1,022 3,000 Alabama.. 6,304 8,772 8,460
West Virginia.. 4,638 4,106 5,494 Kentucky. 20,677 15,425 35,247 Tennessee. 6,215 5,158 10,589 Ohio....... 182,677 229,247 253,933 Indiana.. Illinois.. Michigan. 17,908 20,485 23,177 33,647 52,500 48 932 12,539 14,685 8,004 Wisconsin Missouri...... 34,683 47,478 39,611 20,942 12,141 12,090 California. 10,555 14,204 22,807 Kansas..... 8,900 10,528 10,800
Wyoming Territory.. 400 3,286 3,235 Colorado... 2,306 3,934
PRODUCTION OF CUT NAILS IN KEGS OF 100 POUNDS.
Massachusetts.. 532,299 525,089 592,276
New York.... 7,482
New Jersey. 294,122 2,256 248,521 166 360,340 Pennsylvania.. 1,737,560 1,914,706 1,949,405 Virginia..... 123,728 127,566 169,806 |
fsous 'harsatn ana corruption" ccntrover- " but behind ali this lies q story Of snlewo pohtical mAneuverfns. Of carefully iato ana executed plans. that profoundly affected the politics Of the nation for over . decade
hremef was but tool In the whole bus snees- It II practically certain that he never wrote the letter which appeared IN tne Columbian Observer NOR prepared the argument presented TO the house investigating committee for refusing 10 appear before II. He was an honest. well intenuoned man. enthusiastically devoted TO Gen. Jackson. but ignorant and easily imposed upon The real authorship Of these letters h q matter Of doubt: II II generally thought. however. that 6enator John H. Eaton. OF Tennessee. and samuel d. InGham. o Pennsylvania congresham, were responsible for then. Al any rate. they answered their purpose and the jackson party had telling cry to 20 before the country with In the next election. II In interesting to note here that both Eaton and Ingham were APP pointed 10 Jackson's first cabinet
But what were Clay and jackson. the leading characters In this unfortunate AFFAIR, doing all this time. Clay could do nothing for lack Of definite accuser. He must stand idly looking on while the charges Of bargain and corruption were scattered broadcast over the country But Jackson. did he believe In these charges? Going into the campaign at the solicit tation of friends. with little interest In the outcome, the fighter in him soon came to the fore and he conceived q desire to be elected. When the returns came In he believed himself the choice Of the people and when Congress selected Ad- a 0vA him o th,xf ht fa<f out Of the ONCE TO which the people wished TO elevate him. Intensely personal he soon fastened his imagined grievances upon Henry Clay, for whom he enter tanned an old grudge dating back from the time OF the Seminole war. Brooding over what he sincerely believed TO Be his wrongs. he gradually came 10 hate Clay with all the intensity OF hts nature. To him Clay was an unprtncipled ONCE seeker. who had betrayed his country for his own ACKNOWLEDGMENT II can readily be- imagined, too. that the generals advisers and friends did nothing to stop his ever increasing luminosity towards the great Kentuckian.
clay Finally DowneA.
The cry Of bargain and corruption spread, and. what was more. It was beiieyed. In the West IL Increased the enthusasm for 'Old Hickory" and his home coming was made a continual ovation. Ac- cording to competent testimony. Jackson repeatedly expressed his belief in Clays guilt while on his way TO the Hermitage. He even went so far az to state that the friends Of Clay had offered him their sup port provided he would promise Clay the secretaryship OF state. At length Clay demanded of Jackson proof OF the allegations made against him. Hereupou follow ed q long and acrimonious correspondence between them. No proof was furnished by Jackson. and Clay's friends held their chief indicated. The discussion and agifation of the whole matter had done It's work. however. and Clay became d!scredted with a great majority OF the people.
In ISIS Gen. Jackson was elected president by a dec,s.;e majority. This action OF the people he interpreted az n vindication OF the charges against Clay, and went to Washington with the sincere belief that the country had been rescued from a cabaI of traitors. Just what influence the bar gain and corruption cry had In determining the final result IL il impossible TO say. 1t was. however. used with telling eject In the campaign. especially in the South and West, where among the ignorant classes II had great influence
The fight had been intensely bitter: persons rather than issues had been upper most In the mind OF the average voter. jackson. OF course had denounced Clay In his usual nery manner. while Clay had retaIiated with good old Kentucky invective. Lesser lights had taken up the fight and kept II waging merrily.
Mystery IN Appointments.
On February Is. 1899. Jackson announced his cabinet In the United States Telegraph as follows:
Secretary OF state-Martin Van Vuren. of New York.
Secretary OF the treasury-Samuei u. fngham. OF Pennsylvania
Secretary OF war-John III. Eaton. OF Tennessee.
Secretary Of the navy-John Branch. OF North Carolina.
Attorney general--John Mcpherson Berrien. OF Georgia.
Postmaster gcneral-William +. Barry. OF Kentucky.
Who were these men? why were they selected by Gen Jackson for these posts OF responsibility, Ingham was one Of the men who had stood behind Kremer through all the bargain and corruption controversy. He had been especially active In the campaign In circulating charges against Clay and Adams He was first az all An anti-Clay man. Eaton was another an,l-clay man who had been concerned in the same controversy. Branch and Berrien had both voted against the confirmation OF Clay I'm the senate wher Adams sent his nomination In for secretary OF state They were both anti-Clay men Barry had helped to carry Clay's own state against him In the election. He. too. was anti-Ciay. II was mos, heterogeneous cabinet, the only thing all could agree on being hostility To Clay. II was an auti-Ciay cabinet
Such were the bargain and corruption controversy and the Jackson-Clay feud growing out OF II, ard few az the resuits A more unfortunate or disgrace full piece of business would be hard to imagine. No fair minded man after go ing over all the facts could believe Clay guilty ~ the offense' charged against him. Yet he retired from the consrcversy. defeated In his fondest ambition. disappointed and discTedited man. On the other hand. the xhrcwa originators Of the charges gained power and opt ,encc They were high minded. fearless patr.ass. As for Gen, Jackson. no one can fairly minute so him anything bat thorough belief In the truth Of the "A hfa yrstSf a |
that Act. And let me deal freely and truly with all the world in that particular; I never received by salary, and all other ways put together, for my preaching in Wales, from Christians and from the states, since the beginning, which is above twenty years, but between six and seven hundred pounds at most. And I can with much clearness, confidence, and comfort, call God, the searcher of all hearts, to witness; and I do call him to record on my soul, that, to my knowledge and remembrance, I had not anything, directly nor indirectly, but what was ordered me ; nor have I, nor any other for me-I express it without any collusion or reservation-so much as a pound or shilling of any money, from any tithes or otherwise, in my hands, belonging to the public; and I humbly challenge and bid defiance to envy itself to prove the contrary, and I desire to be called to an account, if I be suspected; for I will maintain my innocency herein till I die. And yet my accusers have, some by writing, who were ashamed to put their names thereto, and others by word, published, that I had many thousand pounds of the tithes money, nay, had purchased of King's rents and lands some thousands yearly, or at least many hundred pounds per annum ; whereas, now it is returned to the King again, it appears it is under seventy pounds yearly, and I never received any year of that above sixty-six pounds ten shillings.
This the auditor and tenants know sufficiently, and let them or any other disprove me herein, if they can. "And whereas it is charged, that many good and godly men were turned out of their livings; let them that know such, for I did not, name them, and I doubt not but it will be yet easy to prove the contrary, by their former and present practices. However, for my own part, I often publicly tendered this to the ejected ministers, that if they could manifest that they had the work of grace wrought
in themselves, or could produce any that had received spiritual good by their ministry, they should, as far as it lay in my power, be restored to their places: but not one of them ever claimed this. Further, as a consequence thereof, it was complained that the sabbaths were profaned: whereas men might ride throughout some counties, and neither see men working, travelling, nor playing on the sabbath. The like, I am sure, neither was before nor now is, our enemies themselves being judges. "But they further object, that the people were turned infidels and papists. So many do, where the powerfullest means are, if they come not under them. But why, then, do these men complain, so many are turned to be quite contrary; and if these accusers were fallen out with such men then, how come they now to own them so much?
But to disprove that, take this single instance :--In a few years' time a great part of a former impression of the Welsh Bible was bought up, and afterwards two editions more, one of the New Testament, and another of the whole Bible; and of these two, I believe, are sold off, at least between five and six thousand. By this you may perceive that religion did grow. Also, in the beginning of the wars there was but one or two gathered congregations in all Wales, and in some counties scarce any that made profession of godliness in a strict gospel sense. Yet it hath pleased the Lord so to bless the weak means there, that there were lately, and I hope are still, above twenty gathered churches; in some two, in some three, some four or five hundred members, with their officers, differing little in opinion and faith, and walking in love, and the fear of the Lord."*
All the Nonconformists of Wales, previous to the civil * Powell's Brief Narrative, prefixed to his "Bird in the Cage," second edition, printed in the year 1662.
wars, and for some years after, were Congregational Paedobaptists; but in the year 1649 some of them changed their views on the subject of baptism, and formed themselves into an Anti-paedobaptist Church, at Ilston, near
Swansea, in Glamorganshire. The following authentic account of the formation of this church has been happily preserved:-"The first Baptist Church, within what is now the Massachusetts State, was constituted in Rehoboth this year (1663); Mr. Holmes and his friends having only held a meeting there for a while, and then removed to Newport. For a more clear idea of its original we must look over into Wales, where at Ilston, in Glamorganshire, a Baptist Church was formed October 1st, 1649, the beginning whereof their records describe thus: We cannot but admire at the unsearchable wisdom, power, and love of God, in bringing about his own designs, far above and beyond the capacity and understanding of the wisest of men. Thus, to the glory of his own great name, hath he dealt with us; for when there had been no company or society of people, holding forth and professing the doctrine, worship, order, and discipline of the Gospel, according to the primitive institution, that ever we heard of in all Wales, since the apostacy, it pleased the Lord to choose this dark corner to place his name in, and honour us, undeserving creatures, with the happiness of being the first in all these parts among whom was practised the glorious ordinance of baptism, and here to gather the first church of baptized believers.' From whence they go on to relate how Mr. John Myles and Mr. Thomas Proud went up to London the next preceding spring, and, by the direction of Providence, came into the Baptist Society, at the Glasshouse, in Broad Street, under the care of Mr.
William Consett and Mr. Edward Draper. Immediately
after, they kept a day to seek the Lord, that he would send labourers into those dark corners of the land."
These travellers were well received, and were soon sent back into their own country again, and were instrumental in gathering a Baptist Church at the time above-mentioned, and which, by a blessing upon their labours, increased, by the close of the next year, to fifty-five members. In 1651, forty more joined to it; forty-seven in
1652; and, by the end of 1660, two hundred and sixtythree persons had joined to that church, whose names all now stand in a neat book of records which they kept; which contains a distinct account of the means and methods they took to promote vital and practical religion among the several branches of their society; as also letters of correspondence to and from their brethren in various parts of England and Ireland."*
To Mr. John Myles belongs the honour of being the founder of the Anti-paedobaptist denomination in Wales.
Though at that time a comparatively very young man, he appears to have been remarkably influential, active, and determined. Soon after the formation of the church at
Ilston, another was formed at Hay, in Breconshire, the immediate neighbourhood of Mr. Myles's native place; a third was formed at Llanharan, in Glamorganshire, in the same year; a fourth at Caermarthen, in a short time after ; * Backus's History of New England, with particular reference to the Baptists, p. 350. Boston, 1777. The Rev. Joshua Thomas, of Leominster, whose valuable work on the History of Anti-paedobaptists in Wales was published in the year 1778, supposes that a Welsh church of that persuasion was formed at Olichon, on the borders of Herefordshire, in the year 1633, and that the church at Llanvaches was made up partly of Independents and partly of Anti-paedobaptists, with two pastors-Mr.
Wroth, an Independent, and Mr. William Thomas, an Anti-paedobaptist. Both these suppositions are perfectly groundless, and are completely overthrown by the above extracts from Backus, and the statements on pages 37 and 515 of the "Broadmead Records." It is astonishing that the Editor did not perceive tha the Records contradict his extracts from Mr. Thomas's MSS. There is not the least shadow of a proof that there were any Anti-paedobaptists in Wales previous to the year 1649.
and, in the month of August, 1652, a fifth at Abergavenny. |
South 7S degrees. sS minutes, East S32.
feet to corner No. 2 identical with cor
ner No. Iron Cap lode and corner-No.
Raven lode of this survey thence
North Is degreea. 50 minutes, East Ss4.3J feet to corner No {, thence North a degrees, 52 minutes, West eco feet to corner No. 4, thence South l3 degrees. | 45 minutes West 950 feet to corner NO. ] the place Of beginning.
| Gurvey No. 1884. Iron Cap lode. Be- l ginning at corner No. 1, being the :, Southwest corner of location and iden- ! teal with corner No. ? Crown King lode of this survey, pine post ia . mound of earth and stone scribed l. 1894 l. C. L. whence U. 2. Mineral mon- uElent No. 5 bears South 4 degrees, 8 minutes, West 2SeT.s feet, thence SoWih g degrees, 52 minutes, East hss ss feet to corner Nc. 2. thence | North degrees, IF minutes, East %55.e4 feet to corner No.3, thence North l 1s degrees, 3 minutes, East 600 feet to to corner No. 4. thence North 7S de- grees, 52 minutes, West 43s.2 feet to corneT No. 5, thence South IS degrees, 50 minutes, West 954.35 feet to corner No. the place of beginning. .'
Survey No. 1894 Raven Lode. Be- ginning at corner No. 1 being the Southwest corner of location and iden- tical with corner No. Monarch lode of this survey, & pine post surrounded by mound of stone scribed R. l.. l. 1894 whence U. s. Mineral monument No. : bears South 53 degrees, 45 min-
degrees, 52 minutes, East 600 feet; to corner No. 2, thence North Il degrees, minute. East 993.1 feet to corner No. ?, thence North TS degrees, 53 minutes, West 1885 feet to corner No. 4. thence South r degrees, 24 minutes. West 1904 feet to corner No. the place of be- ginning.
Survey No. 1894 Monorch Lode. Be- ginning at corner No. being the Southwest corner of location . pine post surrounded by a mound of stone scribed 1-12s4 M. L. whence U. g. Min eral monument No. bears South 81 degrees. A minutes, West 12S4.3 feet. thence South IS degrees. 5f minutes, East ec0 feet to corner No. {, thence North 1T degrees, g minutes, East 1229.6 feet to corner No. 5, thence North 7s degrees 52 minutes, West 500 feet to corner No. 1, thence South 17 degrees. 5 minutes, West 127e.S feet to corner No 1 the place of beginning.
Survey No. 1894. Della Mack lode. Beginning Ut corner No. 1 being the southwest corner of location and idea tical with corner Nc. !, Raven lede and corner No. Monarch lode and coraer No. {. Uncle Sam lode of this survey, . pine post surrounded by a mound of stone scrihed 1-1s94 D. N. c. 4whence II. 2. Mineral monument No. . bears South H degrees, { minutes. West 2473 feet, thence North il degrees 1 rninute, East 4o1.e feet to corner No. 2, thence South 70 degrees, 54 minutes. East 2s9.7 feet to corner No. ., thence south n degrees, 10 minutes. East 355.3 feet to corner No. l. thence South 14 degrees. 26 minutes, West 4oo feet to cofner No. s, thence North 10 degrees. s4 minutes, West 5seS feet ts corner .3o. l the place of beginning. ,,
Survey Ne. 1884. Uncle San Lode RcsInning at corner Nc. l being the Southwest corner of location and iden- tical with corner Ee. Of the Trans Atlantic lode and with corner No. { of tEe Monarch lode, claims of this sar- yey. P pine post Surrounded by . mound c: stone scribed 1-1Se4 IT. g. L. whence U. s. Mineral monument No. 5 bears North. sr degrees, IT. alinutes, M'sst 1Ss4S feet, thence South Ts de srees, 54 minutes East sSo feet ts CO.'S ner No 2, thence North IA degrees, $ minutes, East 122S.1 feet to corner No. 5. thence North 70 degrees, s% minutes, We-t 5S:.s feet to corner No. {. thence South IT. degrees. ss minutes West i2s3.s feet to corner Nc. tho place ef hcsirnains. -E-.E a 5N.rs
sury.. Nc. 1924. FraAs Atlantic lode Hcgirnirs .t corner Nc. being tSt Northwest corner oc location .ad !dsa- ticSl ~ith corner No. 1'Unclc Sara lode and corner No. 2 Monarch lode both. claims Of this survey, e pine post sur raunded by mound of stones scribcd 1lAt T. A. L. whence U. $. Mineral monument tEo. 2 bears North S7 dc- Srers, 1T minutes, West 1s54.S feet, the-cs South 7s degrees, si pl'euteA
"sst sto feet ts corner Ns. 2, th-aes south JE arrrc,s, H r,iSutes, West !ts1.T feet to corner No. G. th,s-. Ecrtt 75 degrees, E4 NaiaIt-~, Tea. t": feet to corner No. 4, thence North 15 3egrecs. H r1'notes, East 1tsI.f feet to corr-r Ne. i the place of hrr'nn.nE.
Survey Ne. 1Sat. South Sols LSss. periarinE al corrcr Na.. bAies the s;cuth~"at corner ot iecstioR . rIna ro.t rryrour*ed by & p,ouri ot ~srth xnd s:ons ccrinsd LIMA .. r. r.. ~hsnc. corner 10. < Of tse r-scle sara ,cSe ami cor-.r Ne. ef f-n Y .~s. Atlantic leds of this survey bear F-rtA l4 degrees :s minutes Wcet 31s.s Feet sas '. 2. Mineral NorumcRt So. $ htars North Ss degrees a1 .1n!nnt-s, West HTo feet thence South II cs- Ersee 1s rlinuten Fast ese feet to eSr- nts No. [, theme North . degrees 1T misWtcs, Eest Itisa feet ts corner Nc. | :. thence North Il degrees 1s nsisrtss Vert SsfH feet ts corner Ne {. thepcn 3outi N degrees 3s minutes West. iNs.S feet ts corner No. the aiaee ee l beginning. l eu-vsy Ne. isst Esy etst. Lsdc. r,eginAins at eorR.- Ne. b.iss the 1 Sorthweet eern-r sf location and ' |
Family concerns calling my kind companion home, I could not do otherwise than willingly release him, aware that his own monthly meeting had need of his help, from the sorrowful convulsion that had taken place therein: we parted in near affection, after having travelled together many months in much harmony; he left me for a time in a very stripped state.
Fourth-day, attended Newbegun Creek meeting, composed of
Friends and others, and a considerable number of coloured people: the meeting was held in quiet: I was led to hope the minds of some were introduced into a feeling sense of what was offered, one woman in particular (not professing with our religious Society) who came into the meeting as with stretched-out neck and wanton looks, before the meeting closed manifested much tenderness, and as if she was really brought down into the valley of true pleading, where the voice of the Shepherd is clearly and distinctly heard.
1st of 1st mo. 1829. Fifth-day, attended the Narrow's meeting, after which we attended a committee of Friends, who have the charge of a considerable number of free coloured people, some of whom have been freed by Friends, and others have been willed to Friends by persons not in profession with our Society, in order to their becoming freed; the great load of care that has devolved on this committee, calls for the near sympathy of their absent friends, from the ignorance and untowardness of those they have to do with, in addition to the severity of the laws of the state relative to free coloured people.
Seventh-day, attended the monthly meeting of Pine Wood; we had a large meeting of Friends and others, and I hope our sitting together might be said to be a time of comfort and encouragement to the feeble-minded; the concerns of the meeting for discipline appeared to go heavily forward, for want of a more lively zcal being manifested, to assist the clerk by properly speaking to matters that were before the meeting.
First-day, attended Beech Spring meeting, at which were many not in profession with Friends, amongst whom there appeared much openness to receive what was communicated, and the meeting separated under a degree of solemnity.
Wainsville has been uppermost with me when out of meetings, sometimes in meetings, much of late; I dare not try to get from under the distressing feelings it occasions, until help is sent from the Divine source of comfort: what would I not give, were it possible I could realize the return of the Fourth-day morning before I left Springborough, with the information I received at
Richmond relative to the meeting at Wainsville! but how merciful is my heavenly Father, who does not bring it against me as a sin, but as an act of great unwatchfulness on my part!
Fourth-day morning, attended Little River meeting, and the next day, attended Symond's Creek meeting; we had the company of many not of our religious Society, in whose minds I was led to fear there was not much openness to receive what was offered; and yet the necessity being felt to labour as ability was afforded, I found there would be no way for me to secure that peace which only can sustain the soul, but by being faithful, and leaving all to the Divine disposal.
Seventh-day, attended Sutton's Creek monthly meeting; the weather was severely cold, and the meeting-house being a cold comfortless place, occasioned me much suffering during the meetings, the doors being obliged to be opened the whole of the time to give sufficient light.
First-day, attended Wells meeting; the weather continuing very severe, here I also had a suffering meeting,-daylight appearing through the roof in at least twenty places, and the doors obliged to be open for light; this meeting, from a large one, is now so reduced, partly by Friends moving into the free states of Ohio and Indiana, and partly by deaths, that it is expected it must be discontinued.
Fourth-day, accompanied by my kind friend Aaron White, we had a meeting at Rich Square, notice having been given of my desire to see the members and attenders generally, the meeting was large; and Friends kept their seats more than is often the case during the time of the meeting. Here I met with a number of solid Friends, in sitting with whom I felt good satisfaction.
Fifth-day, (15th of 1st mo. 1829), we proceeded towards Virginia; and on Seventh-day attended monthly meeting at Gravelly
Run, which is greatly reduced by Friends moving into the western country, and it is likely to be more so: I felt well satisfied in sitting with Friends of this monthly meeting, some of whom are to be felt for, as they have to come forty miles to attend their monthly meeting.
First-day, attended meeting here: some not in profession with
Friends gave us their company; it proved to me an exercising, trying meeting. In the evening we had a quiet religious opportunity in a Friend's family: after which, taking a retrospect of the proceedings of this day, before I retired to rest, feelings of gratitude and praise to the great Author of all that is truly good, were in mercy the clothing of my mind.
Third-day, attended Stanton's meeting: a considerable body of Friends, I was informed, once composed this meeting, but now it consists of only two families; these have since that time removed into the western country, and the meeting-house is shut up.
The next day, attended meeting at Black Creek; many not of our Society gave us their company.
Fifth-day, attended Johnson's meeting: and on Seventh-day, the monthly meeting for the western branch; it was long in gathering, which greatly interrupted the quiet settling of the meeting at the close of the monthly meeting the select meeting was held, consisting of six, in the station of elders; there are now only two acknowledged ministers left in the compass of this
Yearly Meeting.
First-day, attended Summerton meeting, which was large, and I humbly hope a profitable one to some of us, a season in which the lukewarm and indifferent were laboured with.
Second-day morning, we set out on our journey to Lynchborough, a distance of about two hundred miles, and chiefly away from Friends.
Fourth-day, we took up our abode at a tavern for the night; this has been to me as trying a day as any I have had to pass through for some time; my short-coming relative to Wainsville coming before me, this thorn in the flesh goaded me sorely: this messenger of Satan was permitted to buffet me severely, and yet I durst not ask for it to be removed until my Divine Master pleased, believing it is one of the means he sees meet I should be tried with, in answer to my secret petitions to him, to humble me, and keep me in the low valley of self-nothingness, and in that entire dependence on Divine aid for the performance of every religious engagement. From the quantity of snow that had fallen, and bad roads, our poor horses were greatly fatigued; we were truly thankful when on Seventh-day night, about dark, we reached Lynchborough.
First-day, 1st of 2nd mo. 1829, attended the meeting of Friends of Lynchborough, about three miles from the town, a cold comfortless meeting-house; the meeting was long in gathering, which caused it to hold beyond its usual time, but the people remained quiet to the last; I felt well satisfied in having given up to travel thus far, at this inclement season of the year, to sit with Friends of this place, although the prospect of a succession of faithful standard-bearers was discouraging.
Second day morning, we left Lynchborough: it rained and froze, which made the prospect of our journey discouraging; but we were favoured to reach the neighbourhood of Wick's meeting, on Seventh-day evening.
First-day, the meeting was held in a Friend's house: after meeting, our kind friend Richard Jordan piloted us through the swamp, the water being very deep. |
"That would be, indeed, burning 'like a house on fire,'” observed Mr. Bagges. "But there is another gas, called nitrogen," said Harry, "which is mixed with the air, and it is this which prevents a candle from burning out too fast." "Eh ?" said Mr. Bagges. "Well, I will say I do think we are under considerable obligations to nitrogen.' "I have explained to you, uncle," pursued Harry, "how a candle, in burning, turns into water. But it turns into something else besides that. The little bits of carbon that I told you about, which are burned in the flame of a candle, and which make the flame bright, mingle with the oxygen in burning, and form still another gas, called carbonic acid gas, which is so destructive of life when we breathe it. So you see that a candle-flame is vapor burning, and that the vapor, in burning, turns into water and carbonic acid gas." "Haven't you pretty nearly come to your candle's end' ?" said Mr. Wilkinson. "Nearly. I only want to tell uncle that the burning of a candle is almost exactly like our breathing. Breathing is consuming oxygen, only not so fast as burning. In breathing, we throw out water in vapor and carbonic acid from our lungs, and take oxygen in. Oxygen is as necessary to support the life of the body as it is to keep up the flame of a candle." 66 "So," said Mr. Bagges, man is a candle, eh? and Shakspeare knew that, I suppose (as he did most things), when he wrote, 'Out, out, brief candle !'
Well, well; we old ones are moulds, and you young squires are dips and rush-lights, eh? Any more to tell us about the candle ?" "I could tell you a great deal more about oxygen, and hydrogen, and carbon, and water, and breathing, that Professor
Faraday said, if I had time; but you should go and hear him yourself, uncle." "Eh? well, I think I will. Some of us seniors may learn something from a juvenile lecture, at any rate, if given by a
Faraday. And now, my boy, I will tell you what," added
Mr. Bagges, "I am very glad to find you so fond of study and science; and you deserve to be encouraged; and so I'll give you a-what-d'ye-call-it? a galvanic battery on your next birthday; and so much for your teaching your old uncle the chemistry of a candle."
T2
PART IX.
LESSON XIII. -THE POETIC REALITIES OF NATURE.
From HUNT's Poetry of Science.
1. THE animated marble of ancient story is far less wonderful than the fact, proved by investigation, that every atom of matter is interpenetrated by a principle which directs its movements and orders its positions, and involved by an influence which extends without limits to all other atoms, and which determines their union or otherwise.
2. We have gravitation drawing all matter to a common centre, and acting from all bodies throughout the wide regions of unmeasured space upon all. We have cohesion holding the particles of matter enchained, operating only at distances too minute for the mathematician to measure; and we have chemical attraction, different from either of these, working no less mysteriously within absolutely insensible distances, and by the exercise of its occult power giving determinate and fixed forms to every kind of material creation.
3. The spiritual beings which the poet of untutored nature gave to the forest, to the valley, and to the mountain, to the lake, to the river, and to the ocean, working within their secret offices, and moulding for man the beautiful or the sublime, are but the weak creations of a finite mind, although they have for us a charm which all men unconsciously obey, even when they refuse to confess it. They are like the result of the labors of the statuary, who, in his high dreams of love and sublimated beauty, creates from the marble rock a figure of the most exquisite moulding which mimics life. It charms us for a season; we gaze and gaze again, and its first charms vanish; it is ever and ever still the same dead heap of chiseled stone. It has not the power of presenting to our wearying eyes the change which life alone enables matter to give; and, while we admit the excellence of the artist, we cease to feel at his work.
4. The mysteries of flowers have ever been the charm of the poet's song. Imagination has invested them with a magic influence, and fancy has almost regarded them as spiritual things. In contemplating their surpassing loveliness, the mind of every observer is improved, and the sentiments which they inspire, by their mere external elegance, are great and good. But on examining the real mysteries of their conditions, their physical phenomena, the relations in which they stand to the animal world, "stealing and giving odors" in
CHEMISTRY.
the marvelous interchange of carbonic acid and ammonia for the soul-inspiring oxygen-all speaking of the powers of some unseen, indwelling principle, directed by a supreme rulerthe philosopher finds subjects for deep and soul-trying contemplation. Such studies lift the mind into the truly sublime of nature. The poet's dream is the dim reflection of a distant star; the philosopher's revelation is a strong telescopic examination of its features. One is the mere echo of the remote whisper of Nature's voice in the dim twilight; the other is the swelling music of the harp of Memnon, awakened by the sun of truth, newly risen from the night of ignorance.
5. Poetical creations are pleasing, but they never affect the mind in the way in which the poetic realities of nature do.
The sylph moistening a lily is a sweet dream; but the thoughts which rise when first we learn that the broad and beautiful dark green leaves of the lily, and its pure and delicate flower, are the results of the alchemy which changes gross particles of matter into symmetric forms, of a power which is unceasingly at work under the guidance of light, heat, and electrical force, are, after our incredulity has passed away-for it is too wonderful for the untutored to believe at onceof an exalting character.
6. The flower has grown under the impulse of principles which have been borne to it on the beam of solar light, and mingled with its substance, and it has a language for all men.
The poet, indeed, tells us of a man to whom "The primrose on the river's brink A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more."
But it was something more. He perhaps attended not to the eloquent teaching of its pure pale leaves; he might not have been conscious of the mysterious singing of that lowly flower; he might perchance have crushed it beneath his rude foot rather than quaff the draught of wisdom which it secreted in its cell; but the flower still ministered to that mere sensualist, and in its strange tongueless manner reproved his passions, and kept him " a wiser and a better man" than if it had pleased God to leave the world without the lovely primrose.
7. A stone, likewise, is merely a stone to most men. But within the interstices of the stone, and involving it like an atmosphere, are great and mighty influences-powers which are fearful in their grander operations, and wonderful in their gentler developments. The stone and the flower hold, locked up in their recesses, the three great known forces, light, heat, and electricity, and, in all probability, others of a more
PART IX.
exalted nature still, to which these powers are but subordinate agents. Such are the facts of science, which, indeed, draw"sermons from stones," and find "tongues in trees."
Science alone can interpret the mysterious whisperings of
Nature, and in this consists its poetry. |
and his followers, than are the rights of free-masonry. Since I came here, there have been laid on the table a pamphlet which the gentleman from Lancaster seems to think something extraordinary. I am mortified to find upon its title page, the name of the governor of this commonwealth, who has turned aside from the high duties of his station to assail free-masons. "Ocean into tempest tost, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."
In that pamphlet, the author quotes, with a spirit of triumph, a remark by one Colden, viz: that he never knew a great mason that was not a great fool."
Now, Mr. President, what office was vacant at that time, or what committee of nomination was in session, I cannot tell. But when the assertion was made, or about that time. Dewitt Clinton, a name to be reverenced, was the grand high priest of free-masonry, in the state of New York; and at the close of the masonic year, resigned his charge, his jewels, and his office, to Stephen Van Rensellaer, an eminent philanthropist, a defender of christianity, a man who was universally loved and respected, and whose name is yet held in reverence by all who know him. And yet that man, according to the argument of the advocates of this school of politics, was a great fool. Be it my pleasure all my life long, to be yoked with such men! to share their folly and their greatness.
Let me not be considered, in any thing I may here have said, as desiring to wound the feelings of any man. I have been so often charged on this subject with evil motives, that I have learned the christian duty to bear and forbear-to give and forgive; and whilst I defend in debate an institution which has been thus fiercely assailed, I would rather be considered as deprecating the passage of an improper resolution which has been presented to this convention, than as speaking in defence of an order usually ranked as a secret society, but which is no more so than any association of lawyers, carpenters, and shoemakers. I have given you a revelation of a great portion of its secrets; the rest may be purchased for a like sum. We cannot expect to have sisters, the gentleman from Lancaster, (Mr. Reigart) says, but if they come we shall be glad to see them. as Mr. President, I have finished what I have to say in relation to this resolution. I regret that the gentleman from Lancaster did not permit a silent vote to be taken upon it. I regret that he felt bound to assall me, not personally, but as the conductor of a public press, and a member of an institution, for a wrong that I never did, and never allowed to be done.
I regret that he should have rendered it necessary for me to occupy so much of your time. But what I have done, I have done with the kindest feelings.
One word more, and then I will close. We have been spoken of as a political association, horded together for political purposes. I appeal to the experionce of all the members of the masonic body to say, whether this is a fact or not. I appeal to your experience, Mr. President, when you were a candidate for congress, and were opposed by Thomas Kit-
era and Henry Horn. The former, the grand master of the grand lodge, and the latter, a past-master. I, a member of the same lodge with them, opposed both personally, and with my press. The grand master succeeded, but you had the masonic vote.
I appeal to the gentleman from Lancaster to say, whether I was not yoked with George M. Dallas and George Wolf, as state prisoners at
Harrisburg, although we were the antipodes of each other in all that relates to the political questions which have agitated the country. I know that all these injurious things are said pre forma. Still they are firebrands scattered about, inflicting injury and wrong; and he who knows what they really are, wonders how intelligent minds can be led into error by them. It is unkind, it is unjust, to assail any class of citizens when they are not in a situation where they can well defend themselves. Assertions are made, and are given to the winds, until the whole public mind is embittered against a class of citizens who, from the day they were first known in the United States, may challenge any other class, in point of integrity, piety, learning, and christianity; and for all those traits of character, which adorn the hearts of men, and make men love each other.
Sir, I have now closed. I had some few more observations to make, but I will not weary the patience of the convention. I know that any labored defence of this order is unnecessary. Its assailants are fast giving way, and the cause of masonry is again budding like the rod of Aaron-again its members are associating for benevolence-they are again feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, ministering to the wants of the sick and the destitute-presenting an asylum where men may meet without reference to political parties-and where all things good may produced without injury to mankind. I hope that the anti-masons may be able to say as much of their institution, when they shall be called to account.
Mr. PORTER, of Northampton, rose and said: be
I did hope the other day, when the gentleman from Allegheny (Mr.
Denny) offered this same amendment, which, it will be recollected, was voted down by more than two to one, that we should not again have been troubled with this third or fourth edition of "Jenny dang the weaver.
But it seems now that the gentleman from Lancaster (Mr. Reigart) was not then present in the convention, and that he had no opportunity of recording his vote or of making a speech, and I suppose he will not be satisfied until he has done these things. The gentleman has been pleased to define his ideas of free masonry, of which he knows nothing, and which he takes upon hearsay; and I will in return, on rather better data, give him some incidents in the history of anti-masonry, as I know it to be, and as I will prove it to be.
I say, then, that this is a persecuting attempt of a persecuting sect-a sect that is just worthy of the spirit which led John Rogers to the stake; for there is nothing upon earth that seems to have so strong a tendency to curdle the sympathies and dry up the fountains of charity in the human heart, as anti-masonry. Take a good man-a gentleman by education and by habit a man who has been accustomed to sympathize with the
PENNSYLVANIA CONNENTION, 1838.
283 wants, the sufferings, and the misfortunes of his fellow men, and to perform all the kind offices of life to those about him-take, I say, such a man, and let him mingle for a time with anti-masons, and he becomes, in a very short period of time, as bitter as gall; he loses sight of the common charities and courtesies of life. In a word, he is transformed into a being as different to what he was before, as any two extremes that can be imagined.
Mr. President, I do not stand here as the eulogist or the defender of free masonry. It needs no defence at my hands. It is composed of men there are some good and some bad. We do not suppose that all men in that fraternity are perfect. I believe that the perfectionists are not free masons, although I believe that there is such a sect as perfectionists some- - where in the states. But I could not suffer the opportunity to pass without saying something in reply to the gentleman from Lancaster, who has stigmatized us as every thing that is bad, not upon his own authority, but upon the authority of William L. Stone, a man who has swallowed antimasonry, as he has swallowed animal magnetism, and as he would swallow any thing on which he can make money by gull-traps.
I am
I am now a deputy grand master of the order of free masonry. neither ashamed nor afraid to own that I am a free mason. My father was one before me, but that did not prevent him from serving in the war of independence for seven years, nor did it prevent more than one of his sons from shouldering their muskets and marching out to defend their country when that country called. |
I had attained my tenth year, when all Paris was aroused to transport by the arrival of the dauphiness-the pride of Austria-the hope of France -the young, the lovely Antoinette. To minister to the gaiety of the people the theatres were all opened by the municipality, and each of the performers received a gratuity. This enabled my parents to hire a stand for themselves and all the children in the amphitheatre erected at the Place de Louis XV. Never shall I forget the splendour of that spectacle-the dauphin and his bride-the noblesse the priests the soldiers-all was magnificent, all was worthy of the greatest and most civilized nation on the face of the earth. The people, with a loyalty so truly French, were intoxicated with delight; they shouted-they waved hats, scarfs, handkerchiefs-they even wept for joyalas! in the midst of the triumphal progress of the daughter of France, an event occurred which dimmed the lustre of that glorious day, and drew tears from the eyes of the paternal monarch. The scaffolding which supported the amphitheatre gave way -it fell-bearing to the earth its occupants, and crushing under its ruins the hundreds and thousands who were collected around and beneath it.
My father was one of the Frenchmen who perished
on that day, so joyful, yet so melancholy for France.
My mother escaped, but two of her children were among the slain; Marie, Estelle, little Henri, and myself, were saved, almost by miracle. My mother was acceblée with grief, and for awhile even inconsolable; but time and philosophy enabled her to overcome her sorrow, and when at the end of a fortnight she appeared at the Odeon in a new ballether hair dressed, au desespoir, with black roses-her belt and scarf a la veuve-her success was complete..
This success had consequences the most important, for M. Girond, premier artist at the Odeon, was so much struck by her charms, that he placed his heart at her feet, and they were married in two months-my mother insisted on waiting that period-after the death of my father. This event added much to the happiness of my mother and her children. M. Girond was rich--he took lodgings for us in a pleasanter part of Rue St. Michael, and we lived gaily on. M. G. was a kind, good sort of man-very regular and exact in all his ways-very attentive to my mother, and he soon became very strongly attached to her children. He had one peculiarity, which at first annoyed my mother very much he never could do any thing himself, or be pleased to have another do it, without giving a reason: he was constantly asking, pour quoi? pour quoi? Now imagine the vexation of an artiste like my mother, at being obliged to give a reason for every thing she chose to do-it was intolerable but she was not long in discovering a
remedy for this matrimonial difficulty. She found that any thing would do, if it had but the form of an answer to M. Girond's query of pour quoi; so she adopted a standing reply to the standing question- 'twas "Cest ma passion." This reply was always perfectly satisfactory to M. Girond, and never failed to elicit a contented bon! bon !
Estelle and Marie, under my mother's tuition, were preparing for the stage: I chose the same line, but little Henri was placed in the office of M. Etart, the printer. Time passed on, and at length my mother determined to produce her three children at the same time at the Odeon-a ballet was composed expressly for our debut, called Niobe. Our success was complete--I was received well-Marie much applauded, but Estelle was idolized. Night after night
Niobe filled the house, enriched the manager, and delighted my mother. At one of these performances, M. le Marquis de la Saque was so much struck by the beauty, grace, and elegance of my sister, that he made her the most advantageous proposals.
Here, however, my mother interfered: she had been prude for herself, she would be prude for her daughter. The Marquis was au desespoir-he argued, he entreated, he stormed--all in vain ; my mother was firm-the arrangement should not take place. The marquis was young, gallant, and thoughtless-he listened only to his passion-he married Estelle. Behold us now allied to the nobility of France. My sister retired with her husband to his chateau in Languedoc. Such marri-
ages were not then countenanced at the court, and the marquis had not sufficient influence to have an exception made in favour of my sister. Luckily, he had no near relatives to interfere on the other side, or a lettre de cachet might have proved to poor Estelle a writing of divorcement.
About this time politics became the fashion, and republicanism began to be talked of. We paid but little attention to such matters at the Odeon, but my brother, who was in the very focus of news at the printing office, never joined our circle in Rue St. Michael on Sunday without having some new notion to promulgate about-"liberty"--"republicanism"-" equality"--" the natural rights of man," and so forth; or some fine saying to repeat from Mirabeau, Lafayette, or Neckar. This amused us for the time very well, though we thought nothing of it next day. We looked upon the government, the king, the royal family, the nobles, the priests, as things that always had been and always would be: republicanism, liberty, equality, as mere fashions, like wearing yellow powder, or dressing the hair à la Fanchette-very well for a fashionparticularly as next year would bring us a new one.
We were mistaken in this, as indeed were some others, who had larger stakes in the game than the poor players at the Odeon. Next came the National Assembly and the destruction of the Bastile, and nothing was talked of but elections, constitutions, &c. As these fancies had taken so great a hold on the public mind, we determined to make
our affair of it at the Odeon.
A ballet was produced, called La Liberté, in which Monsieur and
Madame Girond caused the most astonishing sensation by a waltz à la Constitution. We never heard now "Vive le Roi," it was always "Vive la
Liberté,"-"l'Assemble Nationale,"-" Vive Mirabeau,"-"Lafayette," and afterwards "Marat." My brother was a furious Jacobin, and, though so young, a leader of the mob; and when they broke into Versailles he was loudest in his regrets that Louis Capet and the Austrian, as it was now the fashion to call the poor king and queen, had escaped.
Mobs were the only recognized authority, and their barbarities were unworthy of Frenchmen.
Still at the Odeon we danced on-the houses were good-the people gay-gayer than usual, I think, as if they were anxious to forget, in the theatre, the horrors of real life. We, on our part, took care to know nothing of the patriots, and they had the goodness to know nothing of us. M. Girond did not encourage the visits of Henri in Rue St. Michael, and indeed Henri was soon too busy to think much of us. At last the poor king was killed-I was sorry, for, after all, Louis was not a bad manperhaps it would have been better for him and others if he had been.
One evening, soon after the death of the king, as M. Girond and myself were returning from the
Odeon, we met, near Fauxburg St. Antoine, a crowd of men and women in the genuine Sans Culottes uniform: we stepped aside to allow them to
pass, but unfortunately, as the leaders carried torches, the glare fell brightly on a gold cross, ornamented with diamonds, which M. Girond had worn that evening in the spectacle, and had kept round his neck on changing his dress, fearful of trusting a trinket so valuable to the servant.
The sparkle caught the eye of one of the ruffians,-"Seize the aristocrats," he shouted; in a moment we were in the midst of the mob, the cross was torn from M.
Girond's neck with curses and blasphemies. Poor man! he was quite beside himself with terror: he trembled, stammered, and bowed, but could not tell who he was, or where he came from. I attempted to speak, but my voice was drowned by shouts "no prompting"-" each for himself." |
February, at Mortimer's Cross near Hereford. Edward gained a complete victory: three thousand six hundred of his enemies were left on the field; Owen Tudor, the second husband of Catherine of France, was taken, and, with eight other Lancastrians of rank, was beheaded at Hereford a few days after, as a retaliation for the queen's executions at Wakefield, Pontefract, and other parts in
Yorkshire. Jasper, Owen Tudor's son, had the good fortune to escape out of the battle.
Before Edward could join him in the east, the Earl of
Warwick was attacked and routed by the queen, who had followed the high northern road with good hopes of reaching London. At the town of St. Alban's, which was held by the Yorkists, she experienced a severe check; but, turning that position, she fell upon the army of Warwick, which occupied the hills to the south-east of the town. The combat was prolonged over the undulating country that lies between St. Alban's and Barnet: and the last stand was made by the men of Kent upon Barnet
Common. At night-fall, Warwick found himself beaten at all points; and so precipitate was his retreat, that he left King Henry behind him at Barnet. The queen and her son found this helpless man in his tent, attended only by the Lord Montague, his chamberlain. In this running fight the Yorkists lost nearly two thousand men, and on the following day the Lord Bonvile and the brave
Sir Thomas Kyriel, who had been made prisoners, were executed in retaliation for the beheading of Owen Tudor and his companions at Hereford. On the 17th of February King Henry was freed again from the hands of his enemies five days after a proclamation was issued in his name, stating that he had consented to the late arrangement repecting the succession to the crown only through force and fear. Edward, "late Earl of March," was declared a traitor anew, and rewards were offered for his apprehension.
But Edward was now in a situation to proclaim traitors, and to put a price upon other men's heads himself. His victory at Mortimer's Cross produced a great effect. As he marched eastward, every town and every village reinforced him, and when he joined the Earl of Warwick and collected that nobleman's scattered forces, he had an army more than equal to that of the queen. The favour of the Londoners, the cruelties of the queen, and the conduct of the undisciplined troops which she had brought from the north, made the balance incline wholly to the side of the Yorkists. It appears that Margaret and her party had no money, and that their troops subsisted by plunder. Wherever they stopped they laid the country bare, making free by the way with whatever they could
A.D. 1461.] HENRY VI.
163 carry off. After the battle, they not only plundered the town of St. Alban's, but also stripped the rich abbey.*
At the same time the Londoners were told that Margaret had threatened to wreak her vengeance upon them for the favour they had so constantly shown to her enemies.
She sent from Barnet to the city, demanding supplies of provisions; and the mayor, not knowing as yet that
Edward was at hand, loaded some carts with "lenten stuff" for the refreshing of her army; but the people would not suffer them to pass, and, after an affray, stopped them at Cripplegate. During this disturbance some four hundred of the queen's horse, who had ridden from Barnet, plundered the northern suburbs of the city, and would have entered one of the gates had they not been stoutly met and repulsed by the common people.
A day or two after, on the 25th of February, the united forces of Edward and Warwick appeared in view, and were received as friends and deliverers. The northern army was in full retreat from St. Alban's, and Edward, who was a stranger to the scruples and indecision of his more amiable father, was fully resolved to seize the throne at once. He rode through the city like a king and a conqueror: and he was carried forward to his object by a high stream of popularity and the enthusiastic feelings of the people, who could not sufficiently admire his youth, beauty, and spirit, or pity his family misfortunes.
The Lord Falconberg got up a grand review of part of the army in St. John's Field; and a great number of the substantial citizens assembled with the multitude to witness this sight. Of a sudden, Falconberg and the
Bishop of Exeter, one of Warwick's brothers, addressed the multitude thus assembled, touching the offences, crimes, and deceits of the late government,-the longproved incapacity of Henry,-the usurpation and false title through which he had obtained the throne; and
The plunder of the abbey entirely changed the worthy abbot's politics, and, from a zealous Lancastrian, Whethamstede became a Yorkist.
[A.D. 1461.
then the orators asked if they would have this Henry to reign over them any longer. The people with one voice cried "Nay, nay." Falconberg, or the bishop, then expounded the just title of Edward, formerly Earl of March, and drew a flattering, but not untrue picture of his valour, activity, and abilities. Then they asked the people if they would serve, love, and obey Edward; and the people of course shouted "Yea, yea;" crying "King
Edward King Edward!" with much shouting and clapping of hands. On the following day, the 2nd of
March, a great council, consisting of lords spiritual and temporal, deliberated and declared, without any reference to the authority of parliament, which never met till eight months after, that Henry of Lancaster, by joining the queen's forces, had broken faith and violated the award of the preceding year, and thereby forfeited the crown to the heir of the late Duke of York, whose rights by birth had been proved and established. On the 4th of March, Edward rode royally to Westminster, followed by an immense procession. There he at once mounted the throne which his father had only touched with a faltering hand; and from that vantage ground he explained to a favourable audience the doctrine of hereditary right and the claims of his family. The people frequently interrupted him with their acclamations. He then proceeded to the Abbey church, where he repeated the same discourse, and where he was again interrupted by shouts of "Long live King Edward!" On the same day he was proclaimed in the usual manner in different parts of the city.*
At the time he took these bold steps Edward was not twenty-one years old.
* Whetham.- Cont. Croyl.-Stowe. -- Hall.-- Paston Letters.
EDWARD IV, A.D. 1461.-INSTEAD of staying in London to enjoy the pageant and festivity of a coronation, Edward was obliged to take the field instantly, and face the horrors of a war which became more and more merciless. The
Lancastrians, after their retreat from St. Alban's, had gathered in greater force than ever behind the Trent and the Humber; and, by the middle of March they took up ground in the neighbourhood of the city of
York, being, horse and foot together, sixty thousand strong. Their chief commander was the Duke of Somerset, who acted in concert with Queen Margaret; for
Henry still lay helpless at York, and the Prince Edward, Margaret's son, was only eight years old. Instead of awaiting their attack in the southern counties, the Yorkists determined to meet them on their own ground in the north. This resolution was adopted by the advice of the
Earl of Warwick, who set out at once with the van of the army. Edward closely followed him; and, partly through good will to him and his cause, and still more from an anxious wish to prevent a second visit from the northern army, the men of the south flocked to his advancing banner, and, by the time he reached Pontefract Castle he was at the head of an army of forty-nine thousand men. |
CARRIAGE AND HOW TO NANAGE
THE OUTING.
Oae OF the pleasantes: ways n which TO spend few weeks OF summer vacation Is In taxing driving trip through a beautiful country, and any one who has enjoyed such an experience u sure to want to repeat K:
The first necessity In undertaking tour o. this sort. is a pair OF strong, willing horses, well matched IN speed and disposition; the second driver who thoroughly understands the manage ment and OF horses, including their treatment in the stable and Their shoe.ng. Driving team FOR three four wecA3 over all sorts OF roads, In country where veterinary surgeon IS often un- Obta.nabe, and where even a knowledge OF proper grooming is in its infancy and bringing the horses home sound ard in good condition is feat that requires much skill Such driving is very dlrferert matter 10 taking the family horses out on shopping tours in the morning and for little drives in the park in the afternoon; and the fat, shining family horses themselves Will need special treat mcnt before starting out on such long trip.
Suppose you have your team OF sound. strong horses who can easily go twenty miles a day on ordinary country roads for six days In the week The first thing TO do is 10 get them accustomed TO going that distance before starting on your trip. Begin about a fortnight before the Journey COM mences, and drive your horses twice day. morn ing and afternoon FOR about two hours each tine: and II they are soft out OF condition, exercise them gently at first until gradually you get them 20 going the gait you expect them TO keep when travelling Meantime. Of course. their allowance OF oats must be increased until they are able to do their full days work and they must have the best OF care.
Now that your horses are In shape you begin to look Tor your carriage The best thing for the purpose is what is called in some places mountain wagon" carriage with box body, all open under the seats. with strong running gear ard stout springs II you prefer covered carriage this wagon may have
,fa on ar yyin II your horses extra strong your wagon may be n tnree-seated ore which will hold a party OF six Then for travelling necessities you snould take for the horses watering pal ard sponge with which TO wash their mouths. The PAL with the sponge IN It can be hung under the wagon. Then there must be two halters. two sheets ana two blankets which can be rolled together tightly and put under one OF the seats 1t is also wise to carry box OF appropriate size containing wrench. a punch. OF axle grease. some extra bolts and nuts. and straps and strings TO use IN Gaze OF accident. II should also contain sponSes and cloths for washing and grooming the horses and cleaning the carriage. as these things are Sc dom found in country barns
The travellers themselves viii have 10 go IN light marching order as 10 clothes. unless they arrange 70 send a trunk or two by express to meet them at different points on their journey. For the men Clothes of light weight Of scme neutral shade OF brown or gray. flannel shirts and soft felt hats are the most comfortable and service able For the ladies skirts OF wiry serge. or some other dust-shcdding material and waists OF either wash material or dark coored summer six. Ther hats should shade their eyes and have simple trimming which can be easily brushed clean. Each person needs an extra coat or wrap and mackintosh; and II the carriage has no cover. some large pieces OF rubber cloth should be taken TO serve as laprobes In case OF a sudden shower some SIKH is required in packing ones necessares for a trip like this, as bags and vases mus; be small enough to 90 under the seats; but with little practice the poores; packer soon learns 10 make many things go into small compass.
The writer has driven through New-York State and contiguous parts OF New-Jersey. Pennsylvania, Connecticut and Massachusetts. and can heartily recommend this part OF the country Tor driving trips The roads. an average. are good IN some places being sandy and stony In others hard and firm The scenery is beautiful, the valley Of the Susquehanna ard the rich farming country OF Middle New-York comparing favoraby, as 10 beauty. yvlth the famous Berkshire Hills. The hotels in the various it;e villages arc surprisingly good the majority OF them being clean and well kept. with plain. but nicely cooked food To be sure the beds are sometimes hard. but any one who has driven from four to six hours day Tor several weeks becomes strong and well that plain pine board would suggest downy softness and refreshing sleep
In arranging the trip. county maps end the road books printed for bicyc'ers great help; but even where these are unobjanab,e Il Is diff icult find the road you want or 10 ascertain tho best hotel TO stop at in the next village by asking for information as you go. IL Is great convenience to have in your party a man % business ability and firm character. who will make all the bargains at the hotels. and ask questions every possible occasion. and all the better IL this Is some besidSs the driver that the latter left free 10 that his horses properly cared for. \ party OF six nearly always get reduclions In price on account OF their number, and should be able TO trave. very comfortably on g day each. which would include care and feed Of horses In some places II would less than this. AID IN others more-especially where summer boarders have taken UP their abode-but the price should not average more than s. day. ~, have to take two drives one IN the morning and ore In the afternoon: and the earlier you can start horses rest at midday. the better for them, Perhaps hot day. Il the road Is very billy or twenty mites; but some other day when they md a good hard level road they Will more than MAKE ny the distance lost 80 that you stlll average your twenty miles day.
II YOU are interested in human nature, one OF the greatest pleasures OF driving trip is IN meet ing the quaint characters one comes across In such travels. Few ely people know now much naturai can farmers who 1--we tar from railroads and know :it;e or nothing OF books Often: II you stop at place Will enter into conversation with you. and nod 10 YOU In friendly fashion, and would be conhe failed to do Sometimes your roadside acquaintance asks very funny questions: but no never intends 10 be rude and Tor months after were driving through the country. actually for plough and the hay wagon ard an OCCASIONAL trip 10 the village TO do his trading; he would never cars. But We who have tried IT, know that there is no pleasanter way OF travelling than driving.
me scULPrORs ESTIMATE OF HIMSELE |
While this work was going on in the comparative quiet of Stirling, Scotland was lost in the turmoil of one of the most wild and terrible portions of her history. It is indeed rather from the glimpse we have of the little royal household in the foreground of all that strife and bloodshed, the Lady Mar in her matronly dignity, Buchanan in his furred gown among his books, and the clamour and laughter of the two boys interrupting the quiet, that we can believe in any semblance of peace or domestic life at all in the distracted country. The Regent Lennox, the King's grandfather, was killed under the very rocks of the castle where James learned his lessons. His young companion's father, the Earl of Mar, was taken from the family at Stirling and raised to a brief and agitated Regency, through all of which a civil war was raging And till from beyond the seas there came the still more horrible news of that French massacre which convulsed the world, and made an end of Mary's party, nothing was secure from one day to another in Scotland. It was in the midst of that very tumult and endless miserable conflict, in which Mary's followers had at last set up the doctrine of her irresponsibility and divine right to retain her position as Queen whatever might be her guilt as Mary Stewart-that the scholar set himself to compose his work upon the rights of the kingdom and the duties of kings. His high temper, his strong partisanship, his stern logic, would find an incitement and inspiration in those specious arguments on the other side which were so new to Scotland, and had been
contradicted over and over again in her troublous history, where no one was so certain to be brought to book for his offences as the erring or unsuccessful monarch. It must be difficult for a great classicist to be at the same time a believer in the divine right of kings; and it was a new idea for the medieval Scot accustomed to reverence the name, but to criticise in the sharpest practical way the acts of his sovereign. And we may imagine that the old scholar, who could not but hear from his window the shouts of the warfare between the Queen's party and the King's, would have a grim satisfaction as he sat high above them, protected more or less by the royal name, in forging at his leisure those links of remorseless argument which, though they had no effect upon the pupil to whom they were dedicated, had their share in regulating that great rebellion which had so important an effect upon the after-history of the two kingdoms.
During this period, however, Buchanan had other occupations besides his tutorship and his literary work. He was made "director of the Chancery," whatever that may mean, and in 1570 was elevated to the post of Keeper of the Privy Seal, in which capacity he served in various Parliaments and was also a member of the Privy Council.
When the conspiracy arose against the Regent Morton which ended in his temporary deprivation of the regency, Buchanan seems to have taken part against him, though on what argument we are not told: for it was Morton's power which had brought about the re-establishment of peace and order to which he refers in the dedication of his book. And it is a feasible conjecture that it was by his crafty suggestion that the Regent's fictitious plaints of being weary of his high office and desiring nothing more than that the King's Majesty should take the government into his own hand, were ingeniously twisted so as to give his dismissal the air
PART 111 ROYAL EDINBURGH
of a gracious consent to Morton's own wishes. An old man like Buchanan, well acquainted with the wiles of logic and the pretexts of state, was more likely to use an advantage in which there is a certain grim humour, and to take the adversary in his own toils, than such an inexperienced politician as young Mar, or any of the undistinguished nobles who carried out that stratagem. Whether Buchanan supported his old pupil, Mar, in his attempt to seize the governorship of the castle and the King's person out of the hands of his uncle, or in what aspect he was regarded when Morton returned to the head of affairs, we have no means of knowing. Whatever his influence might be at the King's ear or amid the secret meetings of the malcontents, neither as Lord Privy Seal nor as King James's tutor did he come in public collision with any public authority. His action, whenever he appears publicly, is perfectly characteristic of his real position and faculties. He took part in a commission for the establishment of a system of municipal law: he was one of the Church's commissioners on two occasions in determining her policy and discipline. When the reform of the Universities of Scotland, so often taken up since then, and so slow to be accomplished, was brought under the consideration of Parliament, Buchanan was one of the chief of the commissioners appointed to consider it. He is reported to have been the author of a scheme of reconstruction to be employed in the University of St. Andrews; and it is interesting to find in this new system that special attention was enjoined to be given to Greek, and that the study of Hebrew was also recommended to the students. The latter language, we believe, still remains an established part of the studies of young men in preparation for the ministry in the Church of Scotland. Buchanan desired that the
Principal of his own College, St. Leonards, should lecture on Plato. And he made a present of a number of Greek
CHAP. IV THE SCHOLAR OF The reforMATION 425
books, still carefully preserved, to Glasgow University, though why he should have chosen to send them there, instead of to his own smaller and poorer University, we have nothing to show. It is thus apparent that in his active public work
Buchanan's chief attention was given to his own proper subjects. There is no evidence that he did more than was indispensable to his official character in matters more exclusively political.
His old age thus passed, in a certain learned leisure which it is very difficult to imagine as existing in so tumultuous a period and amid so many violent changes and vicissitudes. He had many learned correspondents throughout the world, almost all the great scholars of the time being numbered among his friends; and the letters which he received from all quarters implied a considerable amount of letter-writing on his side. He sent copies of his books to his friends as if he had been the most modern of novelists, and it is curious to think of the big laborious volume of solemn Latin dramas, or that thin but weighty tome, instinct with another and more living kind of interest, which set forth the rights of nations-sent by some trusty messenger, a young scholar finding in the packet entrusted to his charge the best introduction to one of the lights of learning on the Continent, or some adventurer making his way to a commission in the Scottish Archers or other service of arms more profitable for a younger son than the frays and feuds of Scotland. The learned doctors of the Sorbonne, the scholars of Geneva, and the printers of Holland, replied on their side not only with elaborate thanks and eulogies, but with responsive presents, treatises or translations of their own, some of them dedicated to the royal boy who was the pupil of their friend, and of whom he gave so wonderful a description. "I have been guilty of trifling with a sacred subject," wrote Berger with his volume of poems, "and I have
dedicated my trifles to a king." |
military companies, lOf spending Lhe I oulIh " July. Other companies than those named, may have made arrangements also, but to what extent we have not been informed The "Independent Greys," under Major Law, will leave the city this evening by the steam boat line for Philadelphia, where they will remain until the It'll inst. Their fine band accompanies them.-The "Maryland Cadets, " Capt Poor, will encamp at Wartman's, Sui phur Springs, about mile and quarter from the "Relay House." on the Washington Rail Road They will leave the city this evening, and will return on Monday afternoon "Raltimore City Guards" Captain Milliken, will encamp on DR.. Tyson's place, a short dis lance from the city on the Susquehanna Rail Road. They 90 out this afternoon, and return tomorrow evening.-Th The "Independent Blues" Lieut.. Luchessi, commanding, will encamp in Chases Lot, during the 4th, out West Madison street, extended. The "National Blues" under Col. Pickell, will pa rade through the city, and proceed to "Mount Clare, (McPhersons,) on the 4th, where they will dine.-The "Ringgold Infantry" Cap tain Chiffele, will encamp OH the 4th, on the ground Of VIM, II. Carpenter, Esq, five miles from the city on the Frederick Turnpike Theygo out very early on the morning of the 4th, in full fatigue dress, and will return in the evening. German YageEs," Captain Elterman, will Join in the procession on the 4th, and when dismissed, will have dinner in CAROLS Woods. -The eagle Artlersts, - under Lieut.. Col. Kane, will join in the procession of the 4th.--The "lndependent Light Dragons" under Col. Benzinger, will Join in the procession, and when dismissed, will partake ola dinner at the large Hotel, near the Cattle Scales, on west Baltimore street.--The "Mechanical Volunteers" I'M der Major Watkins, and "German Guards" Capt kerner, will, we learn, join in the civic procession.
The Celebration Of The Fourth By HE Butchers. The Butchers of Baltimore are as proverbial for patriotism as generosity, and as a body are not surpassed by any class of citizens in taking the lead in every project having for its OBJ ject the diffusion of charity or the demonstraton of patriotism; hence, we perceive that thew have made the most extensive preparations fol giving eclat to the procession Tomorrow. We understand they will muster in full strength at Mount Vernon Place, at o'clock, on horseback, handsomely ACQUIRED, fom whence, under their Chief Marshal, J. Maybury Turner, Esq. and his Assistants and Aids, they will proceed to take their position in the line ofprocession.- After the ceremonies Of the day are concluded, they will proceed in a body to the beautiful grove near Fairview Inn, on the Baltimore street road where the Declaration of Independence will be read by Charles Myers, Esq, after which they will partake of fine collation. and no doubt amidst the general hlarity, give utterance to many sentiment alike BETTING the occasion and doing honor 10 their respectabic fraternity. We wish them a day of uninterrupted JOY and pleasure.
Handsome Present. We saw Yesterday at the store of Mr.. James NJ. Haig. nearly opposite our office, beautiful United States Flag, eight feet long, intended as a present from a young lady in Saratoga street, TO the "Mary. | land Guards" Capt George Carr Grundy- I The flag is of the best silk, and is supported on staff, surmounted with a golden eagle; there are also attached scarlet silk cords aud tassels 1t was manufactured by Mr.. Haig, and is present that the "Guards" may Justly feel proud of, coming as it does from such fair hands. We also saw at the same store a beau titul banner trimmed by Mr.. Haig in excellent style. The banner is of rich satin, trimmed with heavy bullion fringe and tassels. On the one side, which is scarlet, is Bible resting on a cushion, opened at the 9th chapter of Luke; Book, n-on the reverse side, which is white, uIO TIC "O!hS,- h2ulludl CCiOOl VI llG NPG- man Evangelical Lutheran Trinity Church, Instituted A. d. Is42." The painting was done by Mr.. J. J. Higdon, and is most oreditable specimen of the arts, Both banner and flag will be in the procession tomorrow.
.4nother Successful Voyage. The brig "Frances Amy" Captain Binney, arrived at this port yesterday morning from Cumana, on the Spanish Main, where she has been engaged for NV, bo IL Company, with diving bell and apparatus, in obtaining sunken treasure. We are pleased to learn that they have been very successful, and bring home upwards of $685. 900 in specie, recovered from the wreck of an old Spanish man-oewar, which was sunk on her return to the continent of Europe, having on board a large amount of money. The Frances Amy made successful voyage to the same place in the fall of 1915, and obtained then about Sl7,500, and large quantity of old copper and metal. This last voyage has consumed upwards of eight months, and we learn that on the last day of their operations at the wreck, they OBJ tanned near $500, but hearing of the war with Mexico, 1t was deemed prudent to return home
without delay. ! The Monumental Lyce,tm. AT meeting of the members of this Institution, held on We'd
nesday evening last, the following gentlemen were elected officers to serve during the ensuing SIX months w. Johnson, President; Levi Tsch-
meyer Vice President; VIM. Hull. Secretary; Robert P. BaYly, Treasurer; E. F. Hilton, Ii brarian; w, A. McWlliams, VIM. S. Drummer,
Allen T. Lewis, and John S. Reese, Curators. ! We take this occasion to remark that this In stitution was never in a more fourshing condton than at present, and numbers more active members than any other of a similar character in the city.
Discharged Samuel Shivers, alias Michael Rooney, the person whose arrest we noticed some time since, on the supposition of having stolen certain silver spoons found in his posses sion, was further examined Yesterday before |
Americans on BOard-Most of the
Crew Perished with the Boat
Many Pathetic Incidents Were Re-
ported.
Southampton, March S1.-The passenger steamer Stella, plying between this port and the channel islands, crashed upon the dreaded Casquet rocks, near the Island Of Alderney. yesterday afternoon in dense fox, and foundered in ten minutes, her boiler exploding as she went down.
Reports as to the number lost are confiicting. but the officials of the London and Southwestern Railway Company, which company owns the boat, said that the drowned will not exceed seventy. Other reports make the loss much higher. Three boats, including a collapsible boat, are missing.
The Stella left Southampton at noon yesterday, conveying the first daylight excursion of the season to the channel ISL ands. There were about 1S5 passengers on board, and the crew numbered thirty-five men. The weather was foggy, but all went well until the afternoon, when the fog became most dense.
AT o'clock the Casquet rocks suddenly loomed up through the fog bank and the steamer almost Immediately afterwards struck amidship. The captain seeing that the Stella was fast sinking. ordered the lifeboats launched. His instructions were carried out with the utmost celerity, and the women and children were embarked in the boats. The captain ordered the men to look after themselves.
Steamers Boiler Burst.
A survivor states that he and twenty five others put off from the Stella in a small boat The sea was calm, but there was big swirl around the rock. When this boat was a short distance away from the wreck, the boiler of the Stella burst with terrific explosion and the vessel dis appeared stern foremost in the sea. The last thing the survivor saw was the figure of the captain of the Stella stand ing calmly on the bridge and giving his last Instructions. The captain pershed with his vessel, owing to the great sue ton caused by the sinking steamer. Con- Iinuing, the survivor referred to said
1.-The suction was so tremendous that we thought our boat would be engulfeds saw five boats and the collapsble boat, beside our own, leave the wreck. They contained altogether between eighty and one hundred persons Five of the boats were soon lost 10 view, but we took boat filed with women in tow, and the occupants of our boat took the oars in turn and rowed all, night long until most of us dropped asleep thoroughly exhaust ed.
The Survivors Picked Up.
owe sighted sailboat also In the morn ing, but the Great Western Railway Com pany's steamer Lynx, from Weymouth, had meanwhile hove in sight. She bore down on us and took all on board. She eventually landed us at Guernsey"
The Great Western Railway Company's steamer Vera, from Southampton picked up forty others of the survivors and land ed them at Guernsey.
Up to noon to-day, 102 passengers had been accounted for, including Mr.. ]. Par ton and his wife. Mr. Parton is the man. ager of the Western London Office of the
the Stella had 40 passengers on board and that her crew numbered forty-two persons.
Another steamer of the same company which arrived at the ISLAND of Jersey at about noon to-day, reports having passed many bodies of victims of the disaster about the Casquet rocks.
Kept Up Her Speed.
A survivor of the disaster named Bush says the speed of the Stella in the for was not diminished, though the fog whisties were sounded.
Bush adds that at $3.50 O'Clock p. m, the engineer showed him in the engine room a dial registering a speed of eighteen and a half knots. He says the vessel struck within % minutes afterward
Bush asserts that two lifeboats were sunk with the steamer. which after resting on the rocks for ten or fifteen minutes split in two and disappeared. Continuing, Bush adds:
when the Stella disappeared forty or fifty persons were discovered clinging TO pieces of wreckage or cabin furniture and crying piteously for help. All the passengers and crew had been provided with life belts and there was little panic as the ship sank | first slipped into the water, and then swan TO one of the boats into which / was helped. We rowed sun posedfy In the direction of Guernsey, but seven hours later we found ourselves near the scene OF the wreck and saw dozens of persons clinging TO rocks"
The boat in which Bush was a passenger was afterwards picked up by the Lynx.
The passengers all agree that perfect Or der and discipline prevailed on board the Stella. The crew promptly took UP their stations when the steamer struck, served out the life belts and lowered the boats.
Scene Was Heartrendine.
The scene at the moment of the sinking of the vessel was heartrending. Women were screaming and praying, and people were clinging 20 spars and other wreckaee In all directions. Those who had succeed ed in getting into the boats had narrow escape from being engulfed on account OF the suction caused by the sinking vessel
The voice of Capt Rocks from tho bridge. was frequently heard urging the rowers TO pull for their lives.
Tho boats. were adrift for fifteen hours during which time their occupants were without food or water. and as their clothes were drenched they suffered greatly. |
Flowers glumaceous, in spikes or spikelets, glume 1-valved-no proper perianth. Style 1, stamens 2 or 3. Seeds without pericarp.
Grassy, perennial, coarse. No open sheaths to the leaves. (Sedgegrass-like.)
A. Cyperacea. Stems angular, leaf-sheaths entire: embryo undivided, included in the albumen. Diclinous. Root fibrous. Farinaceous, nutritious, sugary.
Caulinia, Willd.
Zannichellia, L.
§ 1. True Cyperaceoe.
Dulichium, Pers.
§ 2. Scirpea.
Eriophorum, L.
Dichromena, Michx.
Fuirena, Lin. fil.
3. Sclera.
§ 4. Caricinie.
Marisucs, Vahl.
Schoenus, L.
Rhyncospora, Vahl.
Vaginaria, Rich. 1
MONOCOTYLEDONOUS.
Agrostis, L.
Cinna, L.
Phleum, L.
ORDER X. GRAMINEÆ.
Flowers glumaceous, generally in spikes and spikelets; but sometimes solitary; outer glumes generally 2-valved: stamens 3, stigmas two, plumose and capillary. Seed farinaceous, without pericarps: culm jointed, leaves with open sheaths. (Grass-like.)
A. Gramineae.* Plants glumaceous with cylindrical stems and slit leaf-sheaths. Seed covering not a pericarp, but a membrane, as the bran of ground wheat. Cattle-fodder, farinaceous food, tonic.
Agrostidea. (Field-grass-like.)
Polypogon, Desf. Trichochloa, Desf.
Muhlenbergia, Schreb. Alopecurus, L.
Phalaris, L.
Crypsis, Lamk.
Milium, L.
Digitaria, Hall. ́
Paspalum, L.
Orthopogon, R. Br.
Tripsacum, L.
Stipa, L.
Eriocoma, Nutt.
Aira, L.
Trisetum, Pers.
Uralepsis, Nutt.
Danthonia, Dc.
Festuca, L. Diarrhena.
Poa, L.
Sesleria, Scop.
Briza, L.
10. BELOW PISTIL, GLUMACEOUS.
Hordeum, L.
Triticum, L.
Egilops, L. Limnetis.
Saccharum, L.
Erianthus, Michx. 2.
Chloris, Swtz.
Atheropogon, Muhl.
Panicca. (Panic-grass-like.)
Piptatherum, P. de Beauv. Pennisetum.
Aulaxanthus, Ell.
Beckmannia, Jacq. § 3. Avenacea. (Oats-like.)
Aristida, L.'
Anthoxanthum, L. Miegia.
Holcus, L.
Arundo, L. 6.
4. Festucacao. (Fesc-grass-like.)
Ceratochloa, P. de B.
Kaeleria, Pers. Windsoria. Phragmites.
Melica, L.
5. Chloridea. (Hair-beard-like.)
Monocera, Ell.
Oxydena, Nutt. Hordeacea.
Secale, L.
Lolium, L.
Rottbollia, L.
Panicum, L.
Ceresia, Pers.
Manisurus, L.
Cenchrus, L.
Calamagrostis, Roth.
Pleuraphis, Tor.
Avena, L.
Hierochloa, Gmel. Psamma.
Dactylis, L.
Bromus, L.
Glyceria, R. Brown.
Uniola, L.
Cynodon, Rich.
Eleusine, Gaert. (Barley-like.)
Elymus, L.
Lepturus, R. Brown.
Nardus, L. § 7. Saccharineae. (Cane-like.)
Andropogon, L.
Sorghum, Pers.
8. Oryzea. (Rice-like.)
Zizania, L.
Gymnopogon, L. de B.
Leersia, L.
Oryzopsis, Michx. *The genera of this order are arranged according to Agardh, in his
Aphorismi Botanici-pp. 147-155,
MONOCOTYLEDONOUS.
Oryza.
11. 12. 13. SURROUNDING PISTIL.
Hydrochloa, P. de B. non Hort. Brit. $9. Bambusinea. (Reed-like.)
Arundinaria, Michx.
PETALOID.
CLASS SECOND.
Stamens surrounding the pistil, above its base.
Flowers Petaloid.
Zea, L.
ORDER XI. PALMÆ.
Calyx 1-leaved: corol none: stamens mostly six; styles 1 to 3: stem eylindrical, made scaly by the permanent bases of the leaves. (Palm-like.)
A. Palmae. Six-petalled, arborescent; leaves divided, rigid: germ superior 3-celled, and an embryo lies in a cartilaginous or fleshy albumen, at a distance from the hilum. Furnishes food, oil, wine, and towic remedies.
Chamaerops, L.
Sabal, Ad.
XII. ASPARAGI.
Flowers with petaloid perianths, generally 6-parted: stamens adhering to the same base with the calyx or corol: berry 3 or 4-celled, 1 or
3-seeded. (Asparagus-like.) Smilax, L.
Streptopos, Michx.
Uvularia, L.
A. Smilace. Six-petalled; germ superior; anthers turned inwards: perianth colored: fruit succulent, 3-celled, seed-covering membranace ous: style triple. Diuretic and demulcent.
Asparagus, L.
Gyroma.
Convallaria, L.
Trilliuin, L.
B. Dioscorea. Six-petalled: germ inferior; diclinous: perianth regular small. Nutritious, tonic. (Yam-like.)
Dioscorea, L.
XIII. JUNCI.
Flowers with small spathes, or spathe-like bracts, and free 6-parted perianths. (Rush-like.)
A. Alismacea. Three-petalled, with numerous, distinct, superior germs. Aquaticts; leaves with sub-parallel veins. Stimulating and acrid.
Sagittaria, L.
Alisma. L.
B. Commelinea. Three-petalled; have superior 3-celled capsules.
Feeble tonics.
Commelina, L.
Tradescantia, L.
C. Xyrideae. Three-petalled, with superior concrete capella with a
1-celled capsule and a parietal placentae and capitate flowers: leaves radical, ensiform. Antiscorbutic.
Xyris.
Tripterella.
D. Juncea. Six-petaloid, herbaceous, with a superior germ, a halfglumaceous regular perianth, a pale soft testa, a single style, capsular fruit, and an embryo next to the hilum.
Weak tonics.
MONOCOTYLEDONOUS.
14, 15, 16, 17. SORROUNDING PISTIL.
Pleea, Michx.
Juncus, L.
Narthecium, Mohr.
E. Melanthacea.
turned outwards.
Melanthium, L.
Helonias, L.
Zigadenus, Mx.
Luzula, Dc.
Six-petaloid, carpella nearly separate; anthers
Germs superior. Poisonous, Antiscorbutic.
Scilla, L.
Allium, Hyacinthus.
Tofielda, Huds.
Nolina, Mx.
PETALOID.
ORDER XIV. LILIACEÆ.
Liliaceous 6-petalled or 6-parted corols: stamens 6; style 1, stigmas
3 or 3-lobed: capsules 3-celled, seeds flat.
A. Liliaceae. Six-petalled, germ superior, highly developed coro! (colored calyx of some) anthers turned inwards, a 3-celled many-seeded capsule; seeds with a soft spongy coat. Diuretics, emollients.
Tulipa.
Yucca, L.
Polyanthes.
ORDER XV. BROMELIA.
Calyx permanent: stigma 3-lobed: fruit capsular: embryo recurved. (Pine apple-like.)
A. Bromeliacea. Three-petalled, 6 stamens; germ inferior, and an albuminous embryo. Refrigerants, Cathartics.
Tillandsia, L.
Agave, L.
Amaryllis, L. Galanthus.
Xerophyllum, Mx.
Veratrum, L.
Lilium, L.
Frittillaria, L.
Calochortus, Pursh. Erythronium, L.
ORDER XVI. ASPHODELI.
No perianths, but some have spathes: corols 6-parted or 6-cleft: stamens 6: seeds round or angled. (Hyacinth-like.)
A. Asphodeleae. Six-petaloid or 6-parted: germ superior; anthers
3 turned inwards: fruit 3-celled; a hard black brittle testa, and undivided style. Peduncles articulated in the middle. Bitter stimulant, some are excellent expectorants and absorbents..
Ornithogalum, L.
Aletris, L.
Brodiaea, Sm.
Phalangium.
Asphodelus.
ORDER XVII.
NARCISSI.
Mostly have spathes, and no perianths: corols 6-parted or 6-petalled: stamens 6: germ attached to the corol. (Daffodil-like.)
A. Hypoxide. Six-petaloid; germ inferior: corol 6-parted (called perianth by some) with equitant divisions: seeds beaked and a hard black coat. Feeble tonics. (Star-grass-like.)
Hypoxis, L.
B. Amaryllidea. Six-petaloid, bulbous, 6-stamened: germ inferior: corol 6-parted with equitant divisions; and flat spongy seeds. Leaves ensiform. Stimulants, and some poisonous.
Pancratium, L.
Crinum, L.
C. Pontederea. Six-petaloid: corol irregular: germ superior. Corol involute after flowering. Aquatics. Weak tonics.
MONOCOTYLEDONOUS.
18, 19, 20, 21. ON THE PISTIL..
Heteranthera, Beav.
Pontederia, L.
Syena, Willd.
PETALOID.
ORDER XVIII.
IRIDES.
Corol 6-cleft or 6-parted: stamens 3; style 1, with 1 to 3 stigmas: germ attached to corol: leaves ensiform or linear: root bulbous or tuberous (Iris-like.)
A. Haemodoracea. Six-petaloid: germ inferior: a woolly tubular perianth, with equitant divisions, and farinaceous albumen.
Leaves equitant. Albumen farinaceous. Tonic.
Dilatris.
Schollera, Schrb.
Conostylis.
B. Iridea.
Six-petaloid, triandrous: germ inferior: anthers turned outwards: leaves equitant, except the Crocus. Slightly stimulating. some are poisonous.
Iris, L. Crocus.
Sisyrinchium, L.
Ixia, L.
CLASS THIRD.
Stamens on the pistil, or style.
Flowers petaloid.
ORDER XIX. MUSÆ.
Spathaceous corol 6-parted, irregular: stamens 6; anthers linear. turned inwards: germ many-seeded. (Banana-like.) |
pether delusion. He was strenuous Ao yocate of church discipline, and IT, his every day walk presented to the world an example of the most rigid piety. Though, perhaps a trifle Puri,anic and bigoted, he was yet a man of the sternest and most incorporating virtue. But, ms Tom Hood says;
II, "Alasl for the rarity
or Christian chaIiv
Under the sun.
The old Deacon had not the least OIL Oh H. Having no fauIts or foibles of his own Cat leus, he thought SOY that called aloud for charity. he could not understand why they should ever form a component part in the ma lures of other people. He had passed the hey.day of youth, and had quite forgotten that he was once young. With much bust. ness and responsibility resting on HIMSELF he failed to see how those with fewer cares could possibly be merry and unconcerned.- Indeed, the Deacon witnessed many very common human phenomena for which he could assign no other cause than moral depravily, and, withnl, he had one weakness which very naturally grew out of his lack OF charity. This was most unbounded credulity as to the short comings which gossip is daily charging upon some member OF a CON- munity. So credulous was the Deacon IN this respect and so ready TO believe in the culpabity of another, that he was often made the victim of practical joke; and though he lived in village of not over five hundred Inhabitants, he had been made to believe it contained several gambling dens, and, at least, two Peter Funk auction shops. He was ut one time convinced that society Of Freelov. ers held meetings in the Town Hall, but, before completing his plan for their suppression, they turned out to be Lodge Of Know Nothings. Thus he was often put on the wrong track, but, unlike knight Russ Ockside, NJ. D., he never quite succeeded in "getting his eye.teeth cut" But it is only the last drive played off on him that We design recording. 1t happened in this wise: Elder Wisely, pastor of Deacon Browns church, was on q tour at the South for the benefit OF that clerical disorder, the bronchitis. Mrs. Wisely, the second wife of the elder, was for some reason lef. at home. This lady was quite youthful, and had by her gentle quail ties won the esteem of the entire parish. II was during the absence of her worthy husband that Deacon Brown on going to the Post Office one morning, received the follow ing communication:
PoDGEvILLE, July 18th, 1856.
MIR. BRowN-Dear Sir: take the liberty to disclose TO you some facts, which have given me ms much pain as they will yourself. | know, beyond all question of doubt, that a stranger very mystrriously made his appear ance last night in the private parlor Of Mrs. Wisely. He was first seen there about half. past eleven o'clock; no one saw him enter the house, and up to the present hour this morn ing he has not been known to depart. think this new visitor was expected and that he is destined to share the affections Of Mrs. Wise ly. The voice of this new conner has been distinctly heard in her room, and she has been even heard to address him in the tenderest and most louing tones.
Such are the facts You can act in the premises as your sense Of duty may dictate. NV opinion Is, that should Elder Wisely be informed of this strangers advent, it might hasten his return. Yours truly,
(Signed) A FRIEND OF FIDELITY.
As the Deacon read this epistle there was a visible tremor in his hand He polished his eye. glass with silk handkerchief, and perused it carefully second time. But Deacon Brown was not the man to swerve from duty, though it led him where he would not 40. In moment he was resolved. Putting the letter in his hat and buttoning his coat to the chin, he hastened down to his hardware store, and whispering to confidential clerk, proceeded to the residence of Mrs. Wisely He struck his cane very decidedly on the pave, greeted no one with his usual good morning. but seemed absorbed in the contemptation Of great purpose. Arriving at the scene of his triumph, he stationed his clerk n front of the house, and, giving the bell-knob a cautious pull, was soon admitted by the servant-gir. The following dialogue then and there took place:
'Is Mrs. Wisely inn
Yes, sir, she's in bed, sir
The Deacon here examined his watch, and muttered, 'half.past sevenr He then asked /: 'How long before Mrs. Wisely will rise, MANI
well, really, sir, can't tell; won't you take seat in the parlor, sirr
mo, thank you--can't stay. Did Mrs. Wisely have company last night MANI!
Yes, Sir; believe she did, sir; she--she
Here the girl blushed, hesitated, and, striv. ing to conceal her embarrassment, showed too plainly that she would evade the true ex. PLANTATION. The Deacon interposed, us If to relieve her, and said:
The company, suppose nam, was a young gentleman--a stranger to your
Yes, sir; believe he is, SIR
is tina! young gentleman in the house now, mamr
80 DO sure, SIR
will you be so kind az 10 state in what part of the houser
He is in Mrs. Wisely's bedroom, SIR
The Deacon's manner by this time become greatly excited, and he gasped out: |
The Second Epistle to the Corinthians is especially remarkable for the recurrence through whole sentences or paragraphs, of the same word or words, which thus strike the key-note to the passage. This fact is systematically disregarded by our translators who, impressed with the desire of producing what they seem to have regarded as an agreeable variety, failed to see that in such cases monotony is force.
Thus in the 1st chapter the words παρακαλεῖν, παράκλησις, and θλίβειν, θλίψις, occur again and again.
In the rendering of the first our translators are divided between comfort and consolation, and of the second between tribulation, trouble, and affliction.
Again in the opening of the second chapter, where the tone is given to the paragraph by the frequent repetition of λύπη, λυπεῖν, we have three distinct renderings, heaviness, sorrow, grief. Again in the third chapter several instances of this fault occur.
In the first verse this passion for variety is curiously illustrated. They render συστατικῶν ἐπιστολῶν πρὸς ὑμᾶς ἢ ἐξ ὑμῶν συστατικῶν by Epistles of commendation to you or letters of commendation from you,^ where even in supplying a word (which were better left out altogether) they make a change, though in the original the adjectives refer to the same substantive. In this same chapter again they hover between sufficient and able as a rendering of ikavós, ikavoûv, ikavótηs (vv. 5, 6), while later on they interchange
abolish and done away for κатаaрyeîodaι (vv. 7, 13, 14), and fail to preserve the connexion of ἀνακεκαλυμμένῳ (ver. 18) with xáλvμμа (ver. 13 sq.) and aȧvakaλUTTÓμevov (ver. 14), and of кeкaλνμμévov (iv. 3) with all three. Again in the fifth chapter evồnμeîv is rendered in the same context to be at home and to be present (vv. 6, 8, 9), where the former rendering moreover in ver. 6 obscures the direct opposition to èêdŋμeiv, this last word being rendered throughout to be absent; and a little later (ver. 10) тois Távτas ημâs φανερωθῆναι κ. τ. λ. is translated We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ,' where, independently of the fatal objection that appear gives a wrong sense (for the context lays stress on the manifestation of men's true characters at the great day), this rendering is still further faulty, as severing the connexion with what follows immediately (ver. 11), 'We are made manifest (πeþavepóμela) unto God, and I trust also are made manifest (πepaveρŵσlai) in your consciences.' Again in vii. 7 consolation and comfort are once more interchanged for παρακαλεῖν, παράκλησɩs; in viii. 10, 11, 12, тò féλew is translated to be forward and to will, and πрolvμía readiness and a willing mind in successive verses; in ix. 2, 3, 4, 5, ready and prepared are both employed in rendering παρεσκεύ ασται, παρεσκευασμένοι, ἀπαρασκευάστους, while conversely the single expression 'be ready' is made to represent both παρεσκεύασται and ἑτοίμην είναι; in x. 13, 15, 16, kavov, after being twice translated rule, is varied in the third passage by line of things; in xi.
Distinctions created.
39 16, 17, 18 the rendering of κavɣâodaɩ, raúxnois is diversified by boast and glory; and in xii. 2, 3 oυê oida, ó Oeòs older, is twice translated 'I cannot tell, God knoweth,' while elsewhere in these same verses olda is rendered 'I knew,' and our oida, I cannot tell. This repugnance to repeating the same word for oida has a parallel in John xvi. 30, where νῦν οἴδαμεν ὅτι οἶδας
Távτа is given 'Now are we sure that thou knowest all things.'
Nor is there any improvement in the later books, as the following instances, taken almost at random from a very large number which might have been adduced, will show: Phil. ii. 13 'It is God which worketh (èvepyov) in you, both to will and to do (èvepyeîv)'; Phil. iii.
3sq. 'And have no confidence (où TETTOLOóтes) in the flesh;
Though I might also have confidence (ἔχων πεποίθησιν) in the flesh; If any other man thinketh that he hath whereof he might trust (doкeî Teñoɩlévaι) in the flesh, I more...as touching the law (kaтà vóμov) a Pharisee ; concerning zeal (Kaтà λov) persecuting the Church; touching the righteousness (κατὰ δικαιοσύνην) which is in the law, blameless': I Thess. ii. 4 'As we were allowed (Sedokiμáoμeða) of God...not as pleasing men but
God which trieth (Soxiμálovтi) our hearts': 2 Thess. i. 6 To recompense tribulation to them that trouble you” (ἀνταποδοῦναι τοῖς θλίβουσιν ὑμῖν θλῖψιν): Heb. viii. 13 'He hath made the first old (πeπaλaiwкev TηV πρώτην); now that which decayeth (παλαιούμενον) and waxeth old (ynpáσкov) is ready to vanish away': James ii. 2, 3 If there come (eioéλon) unto your assembly
a man with a gold ring in goodly apparel (èv èσ0ĥti λαμπρᾷ) and there come in (εἰσέλθῃ) also a poor man in vile raiment (eσenri), and ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing (τὴν ἐσθῆτα τὴν λαμ
πрáv) etc.': 2 Pet. ii. 1, 3 'Who privily shall bring in damnable heresies (aipéσeis àπwλeías)...and bring on themselves swift destruction (άπwλeiav).....and their damnation (area) slumbereth not': I John v. 9, 10 'This is the witness (uaprupía) of God which he hath testified (peμаρтúρηкev) of his Son... He believeth not the record (μαρτυρίαν) that God gave (μεμαρτύ рηеv) of his Son': Rev. i. 15 'His voice (pwvý) as the sound (pwvn) of many waters': iii. 17 'I am rich (πλovσios) and increased in goods (πeπλoúтηña)': xvii. 6, 7 'And when I saw her, I wondered (ê0avμaoa) with great admiration (Oaûμa); and the angel said unto me, Wherefore didst thou marvel (èðaúμaoas)': xviii. 2
And the hold (pvλaký) of every foul spirit and a cage (pvλaký) of every unclean and hateful bird.' In the instances hitherto given the variation of rendering is comparatively unimportant, but for this very reason they serve well to illustrate the wrong principle on which our translators proceeded. In such cases no more serious consequences may result than a loss of point and force. But elsewhere the injury done to the understanding of the passage is graver. Thus when the English reader finds in S. Matthew xxv. 46 These shall go away into everlasting (aioviov) punishment, but the righteous into life eternal (aiviov),' he is led to speculate
Distinctions created.
41 on the difference of meaning between 'everlasting' and 'eternal,' if he happens to have any slight acquaintance with modern controversy, and he will most probably be led to a wrong conclusion by observing different epithets used, more especially as the antithesis of the clauses helps to emphasize the difference. Or take instances where the result will not be misunderstanding, but non-understanding.
Thus in the apocalyptic passage 2 Thess. ii. 6, 7
'And now ye know what withholdeth (Tò KaTÉXOV)...
only he who now letteth (ó Kaтéxwv apri) will let,' the same word should certainly have been repeated, that the identity of the thing signified might be clear; and in the doctrinal statement, Col. ii. 9, 10, ‘In him dwelleth all the fulness (Tò Tλnpwμa) of the Godhead bodily, and ye are complete (πeπλnpwμévoɩ) in him,' it was still more necessary to preserve the connexion by a similar rendering, for the main idea of the second clause is the communication of the npwμa which resides in Christ, to the believers (comp. Ephes. i. 23).
Again, the word póvos in the Revelation is translated throne, when it refers to our Lord, but seat, when it refers to the faithful (iv. 4, xi. 161), or when it refers to Satan (ii. 13, xvi. 10). Now by this variation, as Archbishop Trench has pointed out, two great ideas which run through this Book, and indeed we may say through the whole of the New Testa-
1 Rev. iv. 4 And round the throne (@póvov) were four and twenty seats (θρόνοι).
2 On the Authorized Version, p. 53 sq. |
His uncle, and only friend, he said, had long insisted on his spending some months on the Continent, with the view of completing his professional education, and that the time was now fast approaching when it would be necessary for him to commence his journey. A look made the inquiry which my tongue refused to utter. 'Yes, dearest Mary,' was his reply, 'I have communicated our attachment to him, partially at least; and though I dare not say that the intimation was received as I could have wished, yet I have, perhaps, on the whole, no fair reason to be dissatisfied with his reply. "The completion of my studies, and my settlement in the world, must, my uncle told me, be the first consideration; when these material points were achieved, he should not interfere with any arrangement that might be found essential to my happiness; at the same time he has positively refused to sanction any engagement at present, which may, he says, have a tendency to divert my attention from those pursuits, on the due prosecution of which my future situation in life must depend. A compromise between love and duty was eventually wrung from me, though reluctantly; I have pledged myself to proceed immediately to my destination abroad, with a full understanding that, on my return, a twelvemonth hence, no obstacle shall be thrown in the way of what are, I trust, our mutual wishes.' "I will not attempt to describe the feelings with which I received this communication, nor will it be necessary to say anything of what passed at the few interviews which took place before Francis quitted X--.
The evening immediately previous to that of his departure he passed in this house, and, before we separated, renewed his protestations of an unchangeable affection, requiring a similar assurance from me in return. I did not hesitate to make it. Be satisfied, my dear Francis,' said I, 'that no diminution in the regard I have avowed can ever take place, and, though absent in body, my heart and soul will still be with you.'--' Swear this,' he cried, with a suddenness and energy which surprised, and rather startled me; promise that you will be with me in spirit, at least, when I am far away.' I gave him my hand, but that was not sufficient. One of these dark shining ringlets, my dear Mary,' said he, 'as a pledge that you will not forget your vow!' I suffered him to take the scissors from my work-box and to sever a lock of my hair, which he placed in his bosom.--
The next day he was pursuing his journey, and the waves were already bearing him from England. "I had letters from him repeatedly during the first three months of his absence; they spoke of his health, his prospects, and of his love, but 111
by degrees the intervals between each arrival became longer, and I fancied I perceived some falling off from that warmth of expression which had at first characterised his communications.
666 One night I had retired to rest rather later than usual, having sat by the bedside, comparing his last brief note with some of his earlier letters, and was endeavouring to convince myself that my apprehensions of his fickleness were unfounded, when an undefinable sensation of restlessness and anxiety seized upon me. I cannot compare it to anything I had ever experienced before; my pulse fluttered, my heart beat with a quickness and violence which alarmed me, and a strange tremor shook my whole frame. I retired hastily to bed, in hopes of getting rid of so unpleasant a sensation, but in vain ; a vague apprehension of I knew not what occupied my mind, and vainly did I endeavour to shake it off. I can compare my feelings to nothing but those which we sometimes experience when about to undertake a long and unpleasant journey, leaving those we love behind us.
More than once did I raise myself in my bed and listen, 112
fancying that I heard myself called, and on each of those occasions the fluttering of my heart increased. Twice I was on the point of calling to my sister, who then slept in an adjoining room, but she had gone to bed indisposed, and an unwillingness to disturb either her or my mother checked me; the large clock in the room below at this moment began to strike the hour of twelve. I distinctly heard its vibrations, but ere its sounds had ceased, a burning heat, as if a hot iron had been applied to my temple, was succeeded by a dizziness,-a swoon,-a total loss of consciousness as to where or in what situation I was. "A pain, violent, sharp, and piercing, as though my whole frame were lacerated by some keen-edged weapon, roused me from this stupor,--but where was I? Everything was strange around me-a shadowy dimness rendered every object indistinct and uncertain; methought, however, that
I was seated in a large, antique, high-backed chair, several of which were near, their tall black carved frames and seats interwoven with a latticework of cane. The apartment in which I sat was one of moderate dimensions, and, from its sloping roof, seemed to be the upper storey of the edifice, a fact confirmed by the moon shining without, in full effulgence, on a huge round tower, which its light rendered plainly visible through the open casement, and the summit of which appeared but little superior in elevation to the room I occupied. Rather to the right, and in the distance, the spire of some cathedral or lofty church was visible, while sundry gable ends, and tops of houses, told me I was in the midst of a populous but unknown city. "The apartment itself had something strange in its appearance; and in the character of its furniture and appurtenances bore little or no resemblance to any I had ever seen before. The fireplace was large and wide, with a pair of what are sometimes called andirons, betokening that wood was the principal, if not the only fuel consumed within its recess; a fierce fire was now blazing in it, the light from which rendered visible the remotest parts of the chamber. Over a lofty old-fashioned mantelpiece, carved heavily in imitation of fruits and flowers, hung the halflength portrait of a gentleman in a dark-coloured foreign habit, with a peaked beard and mustaches, one hand resting upon a table, the other supporting a sort of båton, or short military staff, the summit of which was surmounted by a silver falcon. Several antique chairs, similar in appearance to those already mentioned, surrounded a massive oaken table, the length of which much exceeded its width. At the lower end of this piece of furniture stood the chair I occupied; on the upper, was placed a small chafing-dish filled with burning coals, and darting forth occasionally long flashes of various-coloured fire, the brilliancy of which made itself visible, even above the strong illumination emitted from the chimney. Two huge, black, japanned cabinets, with clawed feet, reflecting from their polished surfaces the effulgence of the flame, were placed one on each side the casement-window to which I have alluded, and with a few shelves loaded with books, many of which were also strewn in disorder on the floor, completed the list of the furniture in the apartment. Some strange-looking instruments, of unknown form and purpose, lay on the table near the chafing-dish, on the other side of which a miniature portrait of myself hung, reflected by a small oval mirror in a dark-coloured frame, while a large open 113 |
.... as I know it to be- identical with love, then He will desire that highest good for men far more than they can desire it for themselves. .. Then He will desire to show Himself and His own righteousness to them. Will you make answer, dearest
Hypatia, or shall I? ... or does your silence give consent?
At least let me go on to say this, that if God do desire to show His righteousness to men, his only perfect method, according to Plato, will be that of calumny, persecution, the scourge, and the cross, that so He, like Glaucon's righteous man, may remain for ever free from any suspicion of selfish interest, or weakness of endurance.
Am I deserting the dialectic method now, Hypatia? . . . . You are still silent. You will not hear me, I
At some future day, the philosopher may condescend to lend a kinder ear to the words of her greatest debtor. . . . Or, rather, she may condescend to hear, in her own heart, the voice of that Archetypal Man, who has been loving her, guiding her, heaping her with every perfection of body and of mind, inspiring her with all pure and noble longings, and only asks of her to listen to her own reason, her own philosophy, when they proclaim Him as the giver of them, and to impart them freely and humbly, as He has imparted them to her, to the poor, and the brutish, and the sinful, whom He loves as well as
He loves her. . . . Farewell!" see. "Stay!" said she, springing up; "whither are you going?" "To do a little good before I die, having done much evil.
To farm, plant, and build, and rescue a little corner of Ormuzd's 37*
HYPATIA.
earth, as the Persians would say, out of the dominion of Ahriman. To fight Ausurian robbers, feed Thracian mercenaries, save a few widows from starvation and a few orphans from slavery. . . . . Perhaps to leave behind me a son of David's line, who will be a better Jew, because a better Christian, than his father.
We shall have trouble in the flesh, Augustine But, as I answered him, I really have had so little thereof yet, that my fair share may probably be rather a tells us. useful education than otherwise. Farewell!" "Stay!" said she. "Come again!-again! And her.....
Bring her. . . . I must see her! She must be noble indeed, to be worthy of you." "She is many a hundred miles away."
"Ah? Perhaps she might have taught something to me,me, the philosopher! You need not have feared me. have no heart to make converts now. . O Raphael Aben- ... • If
Ezra, why break the bruised reed? My plans are scattered to the winds, my pupils worthless, my fair name tarnished, my conscience heavy with the thought of my own cruelty. you do not know all, you will know it but too soon. last hope, Synesius, implores for himself the hope which I need from him.
And, over and above it all. ... You! My
Et tu, Brute! Why not fold my mantle round me, like
Julius of old, and die!"
Raphael stood looking sadly at her, as her whole face sank into utter prostration. "Yes, come. • •
The Galilaean.
If he conquers ... strong men, can the weak maid resist him? Come soon..
This afternoon. "At the eighth hour this afternoon?"
My heart is breaking fast."
At noon I lecture take my farewell, "Yes. rather, for ever of the schools. ... Gods! What have I to say? . . . . And tell me about him of Nazareth. Farewell!" "Farewell, beloved lady! At the ninth hour you shall hear of him of Nazareth."
Why did his own words sound to him strangely pregnant, all but ominous? He almost fancied that not he, but some third person, had spoken them. He kissed Hypatia's hand. It was as cold as ice and his heart, too, in spite of all his bliss, felt cold and heavy, as he left the room.
As he went down the steps into the street, a young man sprang from behind one of the pillars, and seized his arm. "Aha! my young Coryphaeus of pious plunderers! What do you want with me?"
Philammon, for it was he, looked at him an instant, and recognized him. "Save her! for the love of God save her!" "Whom? "Hypatia!" "How long has her salvation been important to you, my good friend?"
"For God's sake," said Philammon, "go back and warn her!
She will hear you, you are rich, you used to be her friend, I know you, I have heard of you. . . . . O, if you ever cared for her,--if you ever felt a thousandth part of what I feel,-- go in and warn her not to stir from home!" .... "I must hear more of this," said Raphael, who saw that the boy was in earnest. "Come in with me and speak to her father." "No! not into that house! Never into that house again!
Do not ask me why: but go yourself. She will not hear me.
Did you "What do you mean?" did you prevent her from listening?" "I have been here ages! I sent a note in by her maid, and she returned no answer."
Raphael recollected then, for the first time, a note which he had seen brought to her during the conversation. "I saw her receive a note. She tossed it away. Tell me your story. If there is reason in it, I will bear your message myself. Of what is she to be warned?" "Of a plot-I know that there is a plot--against her among
HYPATIA.
the monks and Parabolani. As I lay in bed this morning in
Arsenius's room, "Arsenius?
-they thought I was asleep--
Has that venerable fanatic, then, gone the way of all monastic flesh, and turned persecutor?" name..... "God forbid! I heard him beseeching Peter the reader to refrain from something, I cannot tell what; but I caught her ...I heard Peter say, 'She that hindereth will hinder till she be taken out of the way.' And when he went out into the passage I heard him say to another, 'That thou doest, do quickly!"" "These are slender grounds, my friend."
66 Ah, you do not know of what those men are capable!" "Do I not? Where did you and I meet last?" ....
Philammon blushed, and burst forth again. "That was enough for me.
I know the hatred which they bear her, the crimes which they attribute to her. Her house would have been attacked last night had it not been for Cyril. . . . . And I knew
Peter's tone. He spoke too gently and softly not to mean something devilish. I watched all the morning for an opportunity of escape, and here I am! Will you take my message, or see her 99 "What?" "God only knows, and the Devil whom they worship instead of God."
Raphael hurried back into the house, "Could he see Hypatia?" She had shut herself up in her private room, strictly commanding that no visitor should be admitted.....“ Where was Theon, then?" He had gone out by the canal gate half an hour before, with a bundle of mathematical papers under his arm, no one knew whither. . . . . "Imbecile old idiot!" and he hastily wrote on his tablet, -
"Do not despise the young monk's warning. I believe him to speak the truth. As you love yourself and your father, Hypatia, stir not out to-day."
He bribed a maid to take the message up stairs; and passed his time in the hall in warning the servants. But they would
not believe him. It was true the shops were shut in some quarters, and the Museum gardens empty; people were a little frightened after yesterday. But Cyril, they had heard for certain, had threatened excommunication only last night to any Christian who broke the peace; and there had not been a monk to be seen in the streets the whole morning. And as for any harm happening to their mistress, impossible! "The very wild beasts would not tear her," said the huge negro porter, "if she were thrown into the amphitheatre."
Whereat a maid boxed his ears for talking of such a thing; and then, by way of mending it, declared that she knew for certain that her mistress could turn aside the lightning, and call legions of spirits to fight for her with a nod. . . . . What was to be done with such idolaters? And yet who could help liking them the better for it?
At last the answer came down, in the old, graceful, studied, self-conscious handwriting. |
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in Data Studio
Pre-1900 Training Corpus
Chunked and resharded pre-1900 English text corpus, ready for language model training.
Format
- 266 parquet shards (265 train + 1 validation)
- 12.8M documents (chunks of ≤8,000 characters)
- ~22B tokens estimated
- Text-only — single
textcolumn per row - Row groups divisible by 8 for even DDP distribution across GPUs
- Last shard (
shard_00265) is the validation split
Processing Pipeline
Built from the full pre-1900 filtered corpus through:
- OCR cleanup — removal of OCR artifacts, boilerplate, and unicode normalization
- Quality filtering — token frequency prior-based filtering
- Anachronism detection — three-tier post-1900 physics filter
- Document chunking — long documents split at paragraph/sentence boundaries (max 8K chars, min 200 chars)
- Token balancing — sort-by-length + round-robin distribution across shards for even token counts
Usage
from datasets import load_dataset
ds = load_dataset("mhla/pre1900-training")
Related
mhla/pre1900-corpus— full documents with metadata (title, year, source, OCR scores)mhla/gpt1900-d26-8btok— GPT-1900 model trained on this data
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