^si!i«»#A«9»iiwi5;L"?iK?^, ■■*'^5* 'r '"■' -'. QforncU Inincraitg Siibrarg BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library PS 3089.T38F2 Fancies of a whimsical man. 3 1924 022 200 954 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022200954 FANCIES WHIMSICAL MAN. BY THE AUTHOE OP "MUSINGS OF AN INVALID." NEW-YORK: JOHN 8. TAYLOR, 143 Nassau-Stkeet. 18 5 2. Entered, according to Act of Congrees, in the year 1852, By JOHN S. TAYLOR, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New-Yorlj. J, J. Rbed, Pointer, 16 Spruce-Street, New-York. CONTENTS. Pago JfEW-YKAR S DAY . .9 DAY AFTER .. 15 THE ILLUSTRIOUS CHIROPODIST 20 THE DISSEMBLER , 27 DR. burton's TOODLE LECTURE ...... . 32 transactions of the whimsical society 3s a victim to millerism ,. .. 42 the pedant , 46 letter from patchogub. reply of wigginsj.. ... §3 impertinent curiosity 57 Washington's birth-day — 62 smithiana .. 68 an absurd scene 75 doings of the whimsiculi 79 the precisian -• 87 beauties of enthusiasm. hungaro-mania 93 letter from naples. • ... 102 wiggins, junior. - 118. address before the callithumpian society 116 IT CONTENTS. Pugs VRENZT OF THE ELDEK WIGGINS 123 TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH 128 THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN 138 ART-UNION GLANCES 143 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN 151 SERMON TO THE FISHES 163 TRIBUTE TO THE TOMATO 167 INFIRM TEMPER OF WIGGINS 170 FUGITIVE THOUGHTS 174 FUGHTS OF HOBBV-STRIDERS 183 EPISTLE FROM SING SING 107 MAGNANIMITY 204 LECTURE ON PROGRESS 209 AN OLD FRIEND GONE 215 MUS To-morrow. Ah, no, no — the only mistake here, is in the peo- ple. See them, hurrying down to their business, just the same as usual. The same bustling gait, the same earnest countenances. Yes, but then, they are saving up their enthusiasm for the evening. There will be a magnificent turn out then, surely ; a glorious display, in the way of bells, bonfires, fireworks, illuminations. A superb torch-light procession, I dare say, with music, and banners, and garlands, and hymns of thanksgiving. Not a bit of it, not a bit of it, my dear friend. Barring the ordinary excitement of the town, we shall be as quiet as lambs, as mute as mice, upon this great occasion. It may possibly be otherwise. There may ■Washington's birth-day. 63 be a meagre, spiritless parade, in the course of the day. There doubtless will be a shabby transparency or two, hung out in front of some of the minor the- atres. A national play, perhaps, will be presented, in one or more of them ; an affair, full of sound and fury, shockingly got up, infamously acted, before a peanut-munching audience ; the Pater Patriae of the evening, three sheets in the wind, most likely. As to any other, or further recognition of the day, in this magnificent metropolis of ours, or in the other cities of the land, I doubt it. A few old-fashioned country gentlemen, no doubt, will have the Farewell Address read in their families, and will render appropriate honors to his memory, at their tables. But as to any cordial, fervent, general Jubilee, throughout the Union, nothing, nothing of the sort. The more shame for the Republic ! Would Greece or Rome have served her heroes in this shabby man- ner 1 Had our great Patriot been a Venetian, or a Florentine, think you, hia natal day would have passed by, thus unnoted and unhonored 1 No, in- deed ! It would have been high Festa, with them. They would have crowned his statue with laurels. — They would have borne his picture, decked with gar- , lands, in triumph, round their walls. There would have been odes, and panegyrics, and Cathedral rites. Every muse would have conspired, to render-homage 64 to his memory. His tomb would have been vi&ited by crowds of pilgrims. Tomb, say you? A beautiful condition is the Father of his Country's tomb in, to be sure ! Why is it not in the custody of the Nation 1 Where are the groves and walks, that should surround it 1 the flowers and the fountains, that should render it at- tractive? The place of all others, in our land, to which Age should be invited to come, and muse upon the past ; where Youth should drink in holy inspi- ration ; where children should be taught their first lessons in patriotism. Why is it thus inaccessible, silent, crumbling to decay ? And for more than half a century, has the hero been slumbering in this neg- lected spot ! Shame, shame, shame upon us ! Where are the monuments to Washington ? One alone has ever reached its apex. Two others are struggling up, slowly and painfully, towards the heavens. There is a faint hope, that the designs of the artists will yet be realized in marble. All the rest are slumbering, ingloriously, at their very cor- ner-stones. There was a general hurrah at the time, it is true. There were meetings, speeches, commit- tees, subscription-lists. There were imposing cere- monies, and there was a great dinner eaten on the occasion ; and there it ended. One fine morning funds, treasurers, enthusiasm, all walked off together, and have not been heard of since. Washington's birth-day. 65 Wher^ are the statues of Washington? In all this broad, prosperous land, there are but three that are worthy of the name. And of these, only one, that is abroad, where it may be seen of men. A grand, a noble one, certainly ; but where are the others ? To think, that in this flourishing city of ours, rolling in wealth and luxury, where individuals have been known, to give their thousand dollars for the ornaments of a supper-table, there should yet not be found a single statue, civil or military, in honor of the man, to whom' all this prosperity is due ; but for whose labors. New- York would have been, to-day, an obscure colonial town ! Is it not outrageous ? The Life of Washington. Is it ever read 1 Does it sell well ? Are there not a hundred inquiries for Jack Shepard, where there is one for it ? Our youth can sit up all night, following in the footsteps of the Wandering Jew, or listening to the poisonous elo- quence of Eugene Aram ; but they have no time to learn the events of our own Revolution. So with the Lives of the other Founders of the Republic, Jefferson, Hamilton, Jay, Wolcott ; are they not all, notoriously bad speculations for their publishers ? Is there any excuse for this indifference about our own history ; this shameful neglect of our illustrious dead? Why have we no grand National Gallery, wherein their virtues and services are duly comme- 66 Washington's birth-day. morated ? Now, if you wkh to scan the features of a distinguished soldier, or statesman of the Revo- lution, you have got to hunt him up at Barnum's ; and your search will be rewarded, either with an atrocious piece of wax-work, or else a vile daub, stuck up against the ceiling, in a two dollar frame. It is no reply, to say, that we are a nation of work- ers ; that we are busy laying the foundations of greatness, and that all these fine things must be left to posterity. It is not so. We have time and means in abundance ; all the resources of Art at our com- mand. Has not Steam brought Europe alongside of us ? Have we not free access to all her galleries and studios ? Were Congress to send, to-morrow, a score of sculptors to Carrara, to put in marble, as many Revolutionary worthies, would it not be setting a most wise and noble example to the nation ? But no, the right spirit is not in us. We decidedly pre- fer the labors of the pastry-cook, to those of the painter. We can squander fortunes upon the perish- ing fabrics of the confectioner, but cannot afford to have respectable transcripts, in plaster, even, of the master-pieces of antiquity. But hark ! What sounds are those ? Surely I heard the booming of cannon — louder and louder. Ah yes, a hundred guns are speaking for themselves, and delivering their glad messages, roundly and Washington's birth-day. 67 handsomely, too. Bravo, bravo. And now, the bells of Trinity are breaking forth in merry chimes, and their neighbors are singing chorus. Friends and fellow-citizens, I ask your pardon. I did you injus- tice. You are not slumbering in such inglorious apathy, after all. You are not so insensible to the precious inheritance that you possess, nor to him through whom you claim it. There is, there is, in the midst of much apparent coldness, a deep-seated veneration for the great Father of our Liberties. Every hour is adding to its depth, and its intensity.. Time will not fail to bring his appropriate tributes. This great day will yet be celebrated as it ought. Its advent will be greeted with the shouts of mil- lions ; will send a thrill of joy through this mighty multitude, from ocean to ocean. New England, eldest in time, as nearest to the dawn, will begin the glad psean, whose inspiring strains will be borne along, from town to town, from State to State, scal- ing the mountains, pervading the magnificent valleys of the West, till the last, joyous notes fade and melt away, as the last beams of evening fade and melt away in the Pacific. Yes, the whole earth shall yet be glad to testify, in every form of joy, its gratitude to God, for the great gift of Washington ; shall be proud to keep and cherish this, his natal day as the Great Holiday among the nations. SMITHIANA. And so poor Smith has left us, at last ! His de- parture was a quiet one. He will probably not be much missed — neither his person from our thronged streets, nor his name, if name it may be called, from the crowded pages of Doggett. There are still enough of them left, to bewilder bailiffs, and to puzzle penny- posts. The tailor, to be sure, of whom he purchased his quarterly suit, will be sorry to lose him ; and the hatter, from whom he got his semi-annual hat. A few other friends and admirers, of the same sort, dealers for cash, will perhaps, also give way to mo- mentary feelings of vexation. (Who can blame them therefor ? It w a trying thing, to be flung out, even by death, of a regular customer.) But society at large, God bless it, will let him go, confirmed bache- lor that he was, without a murmur. By the way, Quizzico interrupted me, just now, with one of his absurd questions. "If," said he, " the soul of this same Smith be worth (as Dr. Chan- ning insists that it is,) more than the whole material universe, what is the proper expression of the value of Shakspeare's ?" An inquiry quite as puzzling, SMITHIANA. 69 certainly, as it was unbecoming. I did not venture on a reply. Poor Smith ! already, even in his own block, for- gotten! There will be no mention made of him, this day next week, in any walk of life ; no sugges- tions about a biography, certainly ; no scuflSe for his autograph. That pretty piece of penmanship can only interest his executors. There will be no anxiety, to secure that florid portrait of his. Neither it, nor its original, nor its artist, will ever be the, subjec^t of angry discussion, in any college of antiquarians. To be sure, one of the aforesaid executors intima,ted to me, this day, an intention to palm off, if^possible, said portrait, upon the keeper of a neighboring grog- gery, as a likeness of the illustrious O'Cpnnell, a^d so secure a handsome offer for it. It . is certainly not the first time that the features of patriots have served as decoys to dram-drinkers. The idea is an ingenious one. It may succeed. There is a decided resemblance. But then, the mala fides of the trans- action. I should feel it my duty to expose it. Far, far better would it be for the community, that truth should triumph, .than that the Smith estate should be fifty dollars richer, through any such piece of iniquity. Well, is it not all right, that Smith sAomM be thu^ speedily overtaken by oblivion ? Was he not lessen- 70 SMITHIANA. tially, a common-place individual 7 one of the crowd ? one of the least significant of the tax-payers of the metropolis ? We might wish that it had been other- wise, indeed. But such are the decrees of Provi- dence. It is written in Fate's book, that one man should be a founder of empires, another, an Opener of oysters ; this, a high-churchman, the other, a low- comedian ; one Scipio, a dealer in thrones, and ano- ther Scipio, a retailer of sand. Slumber sweetly, then, Smith, in thy hiding-place, undisturbed by Fame's impertinent trumpet. No gaudy mass of marble shall lie heavy on thee, no abominable fibs shall be engraved over thee. No seven cities shall disgrace themselves, by squabbling for the honor of having given thee birth. Thou wilt neither have, like Homer, thy Smyrna, Bhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, AthensB ; nor, like the razor-strop man, thy Albany, Eye, Ooxsackie, New-York, Troy, Lansingburgh, Sawpitts. More fortunate, perhaps, after all, art thou, in thy obscurity, than they in their renown ! Inconsistent as it may appear, I yet cannot for- bear adding a few statements concerning the defunct. They are mostly of a negative character. In the first place, then, Mr. Smith was no scholar. SMITHIANA. 71 Of the " orbis veteribus notus" he hardly knew more than a Chickasaw. He was a wretched Geo- grapher, a miserable Historian. The backgammon- board he was so fond of playing on, it is true, was labelled, " History of England ;" and that was pretty much the sum and substance of his researches in that direction. He was no man of Science. Of Physics, he knew little or nothing ; of Metaphysics, nothing ; of Mathe- matics, less than nothing ; of the value of property in the ward he lived in, considerable. His Astrono- my was of the meanest and most meagre character. Nothing but a blow between the eyes, could ever have made him a discoverer of new planets. The same, in Art. Mr. Smith was more pleased with, and edified by, a wooden Indian, standing sen- tinel before a tobacconist's shop, altogether more so, than by the Apollo, or the Moses. Ditto, in Archi- tecture. Noah's Ark, with the animals going aboard, would have tickled him far more than St. Peter's itself And as to pictures, he would deliberately walk by the " Voyage of Life," to gaze upon a fruit- piece. The portrait of a lobster impressed him far more than that of a lawgiver. Mr. Smith's taste in Music was not sound. The eccentric vocalization of a patent sweep, suited his ear far better than Benedetti's death-song in Lucia. 73 SMITHIANA. I am confideat that he would have gone far more miles to have heard " Old Zip Coon," or " Jim alopg, Josey," than he would rods, to have listened to "Ah, non giunge," or " Qui la voce." Feeble, indeed, were the deceased's Literary per' ceptions and acquirements. Once in a while, he seemed to relish a savory passage in "Roderick Random," or " Humphrey Clinker ;" but his daily mental food was advertisements. " Hamlet," and "Lear," were as much Hebrew, to Smith, as the original Pentateuch itself. The sight of a current bank-note would have been far more of a cordial to his orbs, than the MS. of the " Orlando Furioso," or the " Paradise Lost." , Of Mr. Smith's Theology, the less said thie better. He was most abominably ignorant, both of Natural Religion and Revealed. He was almost an entire stranger to the evidences of his faith. He had little,, indeed, either of the doctor, in his head, or the mar- tyr, in his heart. Alas, he decidedly preferred pud- ding to Polycarp, turtle to Tertullian, claret to either Clement ! Of Mr. S.'s diversions generally, it may be said, briefly, and without disparagement, they were not those of Purley. Mr. Smith's heart did iMt, Uke Wordsworth's, SMITHIANA. 73 " leap up, wheu he beheld The rainbow in the sky ;'' nor did he ever, -with Coleridge, " refine the ^ense of beauty to an agony." Calipash and Calipee, as before stated, took a far stronger hold upon his feel- ings. Mr. S. made the usual European tour. I remember meeting him at the Vatican. It was his first visit, he said. He had been six weeks in town, and was to leave the next day. He did not look interested. He did not go much beyond the Gallery of Inscriptions, having an engagement, he said, to witness a grand slaughtering of hogs, that was to come off that afternoon, outside the Porta del Popo- lo ! Mr. S. spent three or four days on the Tiber, on a fishing excursion, but had no time for the trea- sures of the capitol. In this way, did he go through the Old World, racing through the galleries and antiquities, while lingering fondly over his dinners. I afterwards met him at Niagara. He spent part of a day there. That was quite enough for him. He did not say, in so many words, that he considered the affair (so he called the cataract,) a take in, but owned to great disappointment. So much for having too lofty an ideal ! Perhaps the most mysterious circumstance in Mr. Smith's career, was his taking the Baccalau- reate, as he ,did, at a neighboring college. How he 74 SMITHIANA. ever got through, was, indeed, a wonder. He could no more have rendered into wholesome English, the diploma he received, than a young Caffrarian could. But he got it, and he paid a round fee for it, too. Possibly, this last fact may shed some light upon the transaction. The institution was said to be in a sinking way, financially, at the time. Ungenerous as the insinuation seems, there may be something in it. Colleges, as well as -men, have their failings. Terrible are the temptations of poverty ! Decidedly the most marked personal peculiarity of the deceased, was the sonorous, emphatic way, in which he blew that handsome nose of his. Often, often has it been mistaken by strangers, for the horn of a passing melon-wagon; and, on one occasion, I have reason to know, that a poor, sick, nervous, wretched sinner, shudderingly took ,it for the last trump itself ! It is but fair to add, that Mr. Smith had a respect- able seat in the saddle, and dissected a reasonably tender fowl, with a fair share of skill and coolness. When I add, moreover, that he was an exemplary member of the 128th Regiment of the Un-uniformed Militia of the State of New- York, my little tale is told. AN ABSURD SCENE. "What a queer young genius, Quizzico's son, Epa- minondas, is ! .-What otlier father, by tlie way, would have given a son such a name ? Even at his tender years, he gives decided indications of the same quaint fancy, the same eccentric style of expressing himself, that so distinguish his gifted progenitor. The little scamp asked me, the very last time I saw him, with a roguish twinkle of the eye, if I supposed tliat Para- dise really went much ahead of Niblo's Garden ? During the same visit, I had occasion to quote to his father, that passage from Scripture, " Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth ;" the youngster instantly spoke up, — " That text don't apply to Sanders Nellis, for he does every thing with his toes .'" He was walking out with his mo- ther, the other day. They met a deformed man. The boy immediately asked, — " Mother, did God make that man ?" " Certainly, my son ; why do you ask 1" " Why, if he did, I want to know why he don't find him, and fix him ?" And to-day, he asked his father, if he supposed there were ever a,nj jokes cracked in Heaven ? The reply was quite as absurd 76 AN ABSURD SCENE. as the question. I shall never forget it, nor the ludicrous incident that interrupted it. Taking the lad upon his knee, at the same time that he gave me a most curious look out of the left eye, Quizzico forthwith assumed a solemn cast of countenance, and said, — " Tour inquiry, Epaminondas, does credit alike to your young head, and heart : but, my boy, it is a terrible poser ; for, in the first place, what is Heaven ? The good book goes so little into particu- lars upon this point, as thereby to leave a most ca- pacious play-ground for the imagination. With most of us, I fear, it is a mere addition and multiplication of the joys of earth ; varying with the ever-varying ages, complexions, tempers, experiences, and charac- ters, of each and every mother's son of us. To your little brother Pelopidas, for instance, that entertain- ing young suckling, what can Heaven be to him, but the bosom of his mother ? To the great majority of small boys, it is, doubtless, an endless round of top and marbles, an eternal hanging up of stockings, a perpetual firing off of crackers. And to most small girls, it seemeth to be the sucking of indefinitely protracted sticks of molasses candy, the investigation of papers of peppermints, that know no end. The lover knoweth no other Heaven than the eyes of his mistress ; and vice-versa. Nay, doth not Juliet ex- pressly call her Romeo, " a sweet Paradise of mortal AN ABSURD SCENE. 77 flesh f (Here I thought Epaminondas looked a trifle mystified.) " The scholar's Heaven, what is it, hut the thought of mastering all the provinces of the kingdom of knowledge ; a triumphal progress through the vast encyclopaedia of learning ? Alas, that death should seldom fail to overtake him, ere he hath de- scribed poor two or three degrees of the mighty circle ! Bills, bonds, bullion, plate, jewels, coin, certificates, title-deeds, these things, as you well know, my boy, constitute the Heaven of the miser. Turtle, turbot, venison, tokay, foiegras, heidsick, are thei/ not the Paradise of the epicure ? Vatel, Vefour, Very, Soyer, Delmonico, Downing, are they not the ministering angels therein 1 Keep quiet, my son, while I pro- ceed to open to you the respective heavens of the merchant and the soldier, the statesman and the phi- losopher ; and, above all, the seventh heaven of in- vention, of the poet." How long he would have rat- tled on, in this most absurd and inappropriate style, I know not. It was very evident, that the youthful Theban was fast becoming very fidgety ; when sud- denly, loud, angry sounds were heard, that forthwith took all our ears captive. There could be no mis- taking their character, or the source from whence they came. They consisted of those inconceivably rapid and furious combinations, that are the invari- able precursors of a desperate encounter of Tom-cats. 78 AN ABSURD SCENE. Epaminondas, waiving all etiquette, rushed instantly to the window. We both followed. There, sure enough, in _full view, upon a neighboring shed, stood the belligerents, their eyes like coals of fire, their backs aloft, ' their souls in arms, and eager for the fray.' They were soon at it. Long and loud was the combat. We were all greatly excited, and ex- hilarated by it. Indeed, I never saw a small boy enjoy any thing more thoroughly, than our young Boeotian did this melee. For myself, I confess that 1 wished, at the time, that I had had one-hundredth part of the genius of the author of " Hudibras." I should certainly have consigned tlie transaction to heroic verse, for the edification of posterity. In the very hey-day of the fight, a pail of water, suddenly, and most felicitously administered by a Quaker gen- tleman, from a window overhead, effectually amazed, and separated the combatants, who scampered post- haste, in opposite directions. I remained no longer, but snatching my hat, took a hasty leave of my friend, and rushed forthwith into the street, with a mind tossed by tumultuous and conflicting emotions. THE WHIM'SIOULI. The usual gathering of the Whimsiculi, last evening. The subject of discussion was, "Which is the greater blessing, Freedom of the Will, or Freedom of the Bowels ?" ' Stra,nge to say, though the theme was one, which came so directly home to the business and bosoms of us all, the debate was decidedly languid and tedious. Scroggins opened it ; as I thought, in a very literal, humdrum kind of a way, very diiferent from his usual sprightliness. He wondered how sensible men could have two opinions about the matter ; he especially wondered at the se- lection of such a topic ; saw neither propriety, nor profit, in discussing it ; and went on, in this sopori- fic strain, for fifteen minutes ; concluding, by declar- ing himsel:^ most empha.tically, for the lihertas vo- luntatis. Wiggins, in reply, was by no means as felicitous as usual. He had no faith whatever, he said, in the first-named freedom, without the second. To him, the Sana mens, unaccompanied by the sanum cor- pus, seemed the profoundest of humbugs ; and how that corpus could be considered sanum, which was 80 THE \VHIMSICFL\. the victim of obstinate costiveness, was indeed a puzzler ; and how that inens could long remain Sana, which was compelled to keep company with such a contemptible corpus., was still more of a puz- zler. But he went even farther. He did'nt believe there was any such thing as Freedom of the Will. The idea was the mere oifspring of vanity and igno- rance. _ The more familiar we grew with the phe- nomena of life, the more thorough and abject would man's slavery to circumstances appear. He be- lieved that all the events of the Universe were ar- ranged from the beginning ; from the mightiest, to the meanest ; from the crash of comets, down to the loves and feuds of summer-flies. In a word, he took, as. it seemed to me, a very low and ultra-fatalistic view of the subject. He concluded, apologetically, by stating that he had been so long deprived of the second-named Freedom, now under discussion, that he did not, candidly, consider himself competent, rightly to investigate or appreciate the first. Muggins, in the course of his remarks, wandered far and wide from the subject. In fact, his whole speech was nothing more than a vigorous onslaught on the Free-Soil movement. He was pretty broad, as usual. Quizzico Tfas more calm and clear-headed, 1 thought, than any of his predecessors. His con- THE -WIIIMSICULI. 81 elusion was with his usual mock solemnity of man- ner. " In a word, Mr. President," said he, " when I consider what a vale of tears life is ; what a web of mingled yarn, the experience of the happiest is ; what a rough-and-tumble pilgrimage is the portion, even of the luckiest of us ; I cannot, I think, over- estimate the importance of having right views upon the momentous subject before us. With these con- victions, Sir, when I turn my eyes upon myself; when I see the complete dependence of this proud spirit of mine upon the good will and pleasure of my brain ; when I see what an abject vassal, that same brain is of my stomach ; when I see, too, the utter inefiSciency and worthlessness of that same stomach, without the auxiliary labor of the bowels ; I am con- strained. Sir, as an honest man, to admit that their freedom is the great, paramount Freedom of free- doms ; far, far, before that of Speech, or of the Press, or of the City, or of the Seas, yea, or of the Will it- self. Without it, Patriotism and Philanthropy would be but idle words ; all the Magna Chartas, and Bills of Rights, and Constitutions, and Declarations of Independence, that were ever framed, but so much worthless parchment. Their free movement, Sir, is at the bottom of all the other great movements in Society, be they in Education, Temperance, or Colo- nization, or whatsoever noble cause you will. I am 82 THE WHIMSICULI. forced, then, Sir, -whether I will or no, to avow my- self, in this matter, most explicitly and decidedly, on the side of the Libertas Intestinorunv" On putting the question to the vote, there vfas found to be a tie. Whereupon, the Chairman re- marked, that gratitude quite deprived him of his freedom upon this occasion. He had long been a sufferer, he said, in the way so feelingly described by his esteemed brother Wiggins ; till one day, his lucky stars brought him in contact with that great and good man, Benjamin Brandreth. (Here follow- ed a glowing tribute to that benefactor, which was so full of fine feeling, and genuine eloquence, as to bring out three hearty cheers from all present.) " Convinced," said he, " by the Doctor's reasoning, and determined faithfully to carry out his plan of attack, I at last succeeded in conquering as unrea- sonable and obstinate a set of bowels, as were ever packed away in a human frame. I have been an- other man, ever since. New hopes, new plans of action, new powers, new pleasures have dawned upon me. Gratitude forbid then, that I should hesitate a moment, about giving my vote, as I now do most un- equivocally, for iJoioeZ-freedom." In the absence of reports, and other dogumentSj Mystifico read us a translation of another of those THE WIIIMSICULI. 83 curious Greek MSS., recently discovered by him. The following is a true copy thereof : "Protagoras of Athens, to Philippus of Ohsero- nea, Greeting. My Dear Friend — The object of this epistle is to inform you that our Art-Union Drawing came off yesterday, in fine style, and that yow, lueky dog that you are, have carried off the Penelope. Yes, my dear fellow, the gem of the collection is yours ; a picture that Zeuxis himself might have been proud of For the first time in ray life, I have drawn a prize, also ; a poor affair, though, being one of Protagoras's gaudy flow- er-pieces. I shall see to it, that your treasure is carefully packed, and properly directed. Should I ever chance to be present at the sacking of Chseronea, as an enemy, that would be the item of spoils which I should first pounce upon. But how can I jest about that, which, after all, is so far from being an impossibility? Ought I not rather to shudder at the thought, that we, who have been the dearest of friends, hitherto, may perhaps, within a little twelvemonth, be called into the field as open foes ? Never, never, was the political world more full of tumult and uncertainty. I could almost curso the insane ambition of Pericles, which, eveij 84 THE "WHIMSICtTLI. now, threatens to involve us, and all Greece, in a. frightful civil war. Why can he not rest contented with his splendid reputation as a statesman, and an orator ; the friend of peace and of letters ; the pa- tron of Art ; the companion of Philosophers ? Why- will he meddle in the quarrels of other states, and wilfully fan the flames of discord ? At his time of life, too ; when he ought to be making his peace with Heaven ! I confess my mind is full of mis- givings. I see nothing hut trouble ahead ; and in the end, perhaps, the demolition of our glorious Oom- monwealth ! Hang the Corcyreans, say I ! What is it to us, their family quarrel with Corinth ? Why can't they settle their family jars among themselves, without lugging in all Peloponnesus, and all Greece, into the contest? In case of any such general melee, I can't help thinking, that you Boeotians will take up arms against us ; and then — but I will not dwell upon contingencies so frightful. Jove spare us from any such issue ! I saw Pericles to-day, walking on the Poecile. He looked haggard and careworn. Poor man, to add to his troubles, he has just lost three of his children, by that teri'ible pestilence, which has of late swept away so many of our best and bravest citizens. One would suppose that this bereavement itself, would teach him lessons of peace and wisdom. But when THE WHIMSICULI. 85 would ambition ever listen to sucli teachings 1 What is there which your hardened statesman will not do, or sacrifice, in order to secure and extend his power ? But a truce to these melancholy common-places. Prominent among the town-talk-topics of the day, are the mad pranks of that young scape-grace, Alci- biades. He is enough to ruin our Athenian youth. It was only last night, that he kicked up a most dis- graceful row at the Odeum ; and that, too, while the chorus was chanting, in most superb style, one of Pindar's finest hymns ! There is no excuse for such conduct. The only man in town for whom he seems to have the slightest respect, is Socrates ; and even he will soon give him up, I reckon, as a hopeless case. And yet he is such a handsome, spirited, fascinating young dog, that one can't help liking him. We had a grand Regatta the other day, in which his clipper galley, Sappho, beat her competitors out of sight. What a frolic they had afterwards ! How the Chian circulated ! And how do you suppose the entertain- ments terminated ? Why, sir, by actually painting out nearly all the faces of our Illustrissimi, in the Portico, and by knocking off the noses of half the nymphs and garden-gods in town ! There's a pret- ty example for the Upper Ten to set ! The scamp came out to-day, on the Ceramicus, with a magnifi- cent turn-out ! Such a chariot ! drawn by four snow- OO ■ THE WHIMSICULI. wMte torses ; perfect little beauties. Finer steeds never kicked up their heels upon the plains of Thes- saly ! And how beautifully he managed them ! He was evidently, in all his glory. I confess, I don't wonder, that all the girls are in love with him. He did look like a young day god ! Yes, he absolutely reminded me of that charming fresco of Parrhasius, which you admire so much, where Apollo is urging on his coursers, as they Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs, And chase it through the sky. What a pity, though, that a young man, so full of wit and talent, should be contented to be a mere horse-jockey, and quail-fighter ! But I am, as usual, preaching_a sermon, when I only intended to deliver a message. With best love to the lovely Callipyge, and the youngsters, believe Ever thine, Protagoras." THE PRECISIAN. Of all the precise, formal geniuses, tliat ever turn- ed life into a ceremonial, most assuredly, takes the lead. Everything about him, looks, dress, gestures, gait, all proclaim the man of method, and propriety. No deck of man-of-war could be more trim, and orderly, than that same stately person of his, from his mirror-like boots, to his thoroughly brushed beaver ; no figure-head in front of it, could wear a more grave and composed look, than that same countenance. His very legs seem to move with all the regularity of pendulums. How accu- rately he getteth over the gutters ! How admirably he avoideth the puddles ! Doth he meet an acquain- tance ? What promptness, and precision, in his bow ! Doth he accost a lady ? With what unfiling felicity doth his hat describe its voyage through the air ! It is indeed, a privilege to see him, preparing to taste that same air, on horseback. Such an in- spection of girths, and adjusting of stirrups, and ar- ranging of bridles, and disposing of skirts ! The preliminaries of a treaty of peace could not be more thoroughly investigated, and carefully settled. And 88 THE PRECISIAN. SO -witli all his performances in tlie great social drama. The making of a salad, in his hands, be- comes a most systematic and elaborate undertaking ; as much so, as the construction of an epic. The mere mixing of a Seidlitz Powder, with hifn, hath a certain dignity and formality about it. His very laugh seems to have all the regularity of a trill. The very bleeding of his nose seems methodical. The very tears that fall from him, seem to spatter less, and to resolve themselves into more' uniform globules, than those of his brethren ! Then look at his hand-writing. What an index of his character ! livery hair-stroke in its proper place ; every letter on its good behavior. And the folding of the epistle, and the sealing thereof, and the directing thereof, and the affixing of the stamp, are, not these operations, each and all, perfect little models of propriety 1 Or watch him as he is cutting the leaves of that book, which he has just bought. How neatly and thoroughly will he perform the task, from alpha unto omega, before he reads a solitary line therein ! How scrupulously will he adjust his mark, when called off from it ! Or listen to him, as he giveth forth the responses at church. How dif- ferent, indeed, from his neighbors ! How faithfully doth he sound each syllable ; how carefully doth he study each inflection ! oftentimes, it must be con- THE PRECISIAN. 89 fessed, to the great annoyance and embarrassment of those about him. But why illustrate the point further ? Wherever this man may be, ■whatever he may be doing, be it the carving of a duck, or the compiling of a code, he is the same unbending foi'malist, the same unmiti- gated precisiaii. I verily believe, that were it his fortune to-morrow, to be blown into the air from the deck of an explosive steamer, in company with a score or two of fellow-passengers, while tempting Providence on the great Father of Waters, he would both ascend and descend with a dignity and perpen- dicularity, peculiar to himself Such a person hardly seems to be in his right place, in this young, rampant Democracy of ours. The solemnities and ceremonies of some stiff Spa- nish court, would suit him much better, than to be tossed and tumbled about, as I once saw him, at a tumultuous meeting of the masses, at the Old Tam- many Wigwam. He hath, ever since, most wisely avoided these latter gatherings. Perhaps it would be better for us if there were more of these old- fashioned fellows about. We youthful Republicans certainly are becoming a most disrespectful, irreve- rent set of dogs. Our mighty minds are marching altogether too fast for such encumbrances as ele- gance and etiquette. Columbia would have been a 90 THE PRECISIAN. colossal iDear-^rden, long ere now, but for the con- servative influence of the women, God bless 'em. And even as it is, is there not a frightful neglect, among us, of the little amenities of life ; a furious disregard, alike of corns and compliments, in this turbulent, dash-ahead generation ? But is this man always so placid, and proper, and ■well-bred ? Doth he never unbend ? When alone, in the seclusion of his closet, or in the privacy of his bed, doth he not, occasionally, give way to a little hearfy, genuine emotion ? Doth not Nature assert her supremacy ? Doth not the old Adam cry aloud within him, as within his brethren 1 Doth he never indulge in fretting, or scolding, or grunting, or bark- ing, or biting, like the rest of us poor sinners ? Who shall say ? I have certainly seen him, un- der very trying circumstances. I have seen him at seasons, when the eyes of critics have but a feeble restraining influence upon human conduct. I have noticed his behavior, when caught out in smart show- ers. I have seen him struggling with fearful gales, when his legs have been sadly put to it, to sustain him, and when his umbrella hath behaved most per- versely. I have seen him chasing his hat, square after square, with animation, with eagerness, it is true, but never without a certain decorum. I have seen him shamefully spattered by omnibuses, but never, never has he indulged in any of those volleys THE PRECISIAN. 91 of oaths, or floods of Billingsgate, to wMch some of our best and ablest citizens have resorted, quite too freely, under similar provocations and annoyances.. The receipt of pewter coins, even, and of counterfeit notes, liath not been able to fright him from his pro- priety. Is it not fair to infer from these facts, that he is ever the same? That, whether alone with Nature, or with history, or in the mere presence of relatives and domestics, he is the same tranquil, self- watching, balance-preserving individual, that he is to the great world without ? I think so. As to explaining these phenomena, far be it from a poor, erring brother, to undertake the task. Whe- ther it be that Nature hath denied him those tumul- tous passions, which keep the majority of mortals in perpetual hot water, or whether, beginning early in life, he hath, through constant drill and discipline, brought them to this complete subjection, is a ques- tion, T^hich can only be satisfactorily determined by an inspection of the Heavenly records. Meanwhile, such are the phenomena which he invariabty presenteth to his brethren. Nor can I conceive of any combination of circumstances which could make him appear otherwise. I am confident, that had he lived in old Jewish times, and had it been his portion to have gone through the fiery fur- nace, with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, he 92 THE PRECISIAN. would have entered the said furnace, with the same quiet, -vyell-bred air, the same scrupulous observance of propriety, with which he now enters, and adjusts his person in, his opera-box;. Or, had he figured, in a still earlier period of the world's history ; had he been a poor, overtaken antediluvian, still, I do not believe, that his politeness would have forsaken him, amidst all the terrors of the scene. Yes, me- thinks I see him now, standing upon the last unsub- merged peak ; left alone with one poor, forlorn female. Surrounded as he is, by tempests and whirlwinds, yet is he placid and courteous. He essayeth to speak words of comfort to the frantic creature beside him. He manfully struggleth to hold the poor remains of his umbrella, over her desolate head. With the wa- ter already above his knees, he still forgetteth not his social duties. Nay, so completely alive is he, to the requirements of good breeding, that, in the very depths of his despair, he faileth not to touch his hat deferentially, as he beholdeth the venerable form of the patriarch, at the window of the fast-re- ceding Ark ! Far be it from me, to cite these imaginary cases, in any spirit of mockery, or irreverence. They are merely intended, as extreme illustrations of the in- bred, ingrained courtesy and formality which ani- mate the conduct, and pervade the conversation, of this paragon of politeness. ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. We are all fond enough of our own way, Heaven knows ; but, oli, the passionate attachment of , to his ! As you value peace, step not between him, and " this idol of his devotion !" Chime in with his notions, echo his opinions, be content to be an humble private in the ranks, where- of he is the commander, and you are a delightful, glorious fellow ; and he, the most amiable of earth ! Charming is the navigation, under such circum- stances ; " the smooth surface of a summer sea," around you ; a pretty, blue sky, above you. But venture to have views of your own, e,nd let those views run counrer to his ; and hey, my boys, for breakers ! If, in addition thereto, you happen to have a touch of his own infirmity, it will soon be, to use the language of an old Salt, " Hell afloat !" What a time ! How the oaths will fly about ! Mo- nosyllables of the most unalloyed Saxon, will be reciprocated; arms swung, fists flourished; black eyes, probably, given and received. Or, should the scene of action be the dining-room, knives, forks, pro- visions, saltcellars, whole volleys of glass and crock- 94 ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. ery, will darken the air ! Mehercule ! what a scene is sure to ensue! Strange as it may appear, it is nevertheless true, that this same man is one of the most ardent advo- cates of freedom of opinion, extant. Toleration, truth, principle, the rights of man, th-ese are his darling themes. He will rattle away about them, by the hour. He will pour forth his interminable common- places about them, with a fire and fury, that are marvellous to behold. How completely doth he stifle the voices of those about him, while vindicating the freedom of speech ! In what a bigoted, persecuting spirit, doth he inveigh against bigots and persecu- tors ! As you see those eyes flash, and fingers fly, and hear those syllables knocking against each other in his throat, you cannot avoid inly congratulating yourself, that Providence hath denied him any por- tion of that despotic sway, which he so vehemently denounceth ! You feel as "if it would hardly be safe to be a subject of his realm. You feel as if it would take but a slight provocation to make him a large dealer in chains, and racks, and faggots. You can readily fancy him chopping ofi" the heads of his vic- tims, like those of chickens ! And yet, this identical individual is the loudest champion of liberty, in the land ; the most ardent votary of Kossuth and of Hungary, that could be ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. 95 found, this blessed morning, between the two oceans. He is for going the whole figure, forthwith, in this Hungarian struggle ; morally, materially, and politi- cally. He says, openly, that we oiight to spend our treasures like sands, our blood like water, in such a cause. Could he have his way, every mo- ther's son of us, that wasn't bed-ridden, would be off, to-day, for the great battle-field, sword in hand, mus- ket on shoulder, to fight the glorious fight of free- dom. He is for keeping at it, tooth and nail, from dawn to dusk, till, as he expresses it, every hill-side of Europe shall echo back the shouts of redeemed, regenerated 'freemen. Did I not leave him, even now, blazing away upon the subject, in a style that would have put the most inveterate orator of a Cana- joharie, or Coxsackie Town-Meeting, to the blush ? Stop, stop, stop, man. Before committing your- self, too thoroughly, to this magnificent crusade, had'nt you better pause, and look about you ? Are there no great battles to be fought, no great victories to be won, that more nearly and dearly concern you ? Suppose you begin with that own heart of yours. — Are there no despots there, to be put down, or exter- minated ? Is there no pride, or vanity, or arrogance, or intolerance there, that is lording it over your peace ? no iron will to be softened, no obstinate self- love to be subdued ? Had'nt you better employ your 96 ENTHUSIASM FOB HUNGARY. energies in driving out these tyrants, tliat make dreary and desolate, the heart that they possess, and in their place, establishing those princely ten- ants. Modesty, and Gentleness, and thoughtful Love, and melting Charity. There's a campaign, worth embarking in ! There! s a revolution, which it far more interests you, to have consummated, than that of Hungary ! And when, after patient, faithful struggling, you have carried the day, and all is peace and order within, then look at your own home. Are there no battles to be fought there 1 Is it not the great battle-field, where life's most precious victories are to be gained, or its most disastrous, saddest de- feats are to be suffered ? Are there no infirmities there to be dealt with, no fatal appetites to be over- come, no angry passions to be appeased, no bleeding hearts to be comforted, no pillows to be smoothed by timely words of kindness 1 Here is, indeed, an ample field before you, worthy of all your best thoughts and exertions. Here are glorious triumphs to be secured, precious reforms to be brought about. What right have we to make this sacred place, an arena for angry strife, or to degrade it into a mgre ofiBce, or to bring it down to the level of a debating club ? This is not the place to be perpetually dis- cussing principles in, and reiterating trite truisms, and riding hobbies to death ! A gentle, tender sen- ENTHUaiASM FOR HUNGARY- 97 timent ought ever to prevail in it ; to pervade it, like an atmosphere. Soft words, and loving looks, and gentle motions, and cheering smiles, and genial tears, are not these things a hundred-fold more precious, than all the principles that were ever investigated by philosophers, all the maxims that were ever ham- mered into shape by moralists ? Dreary, barren things, indeed, are principles, unless animated by the affections ! Leave them in the lecture-room, then ; don't chill the fireside with them. Don't keep ringing the changes upon them, so vehemently and unseasonably. Dismiss a score or two of those hob- bies, also, on which you take the air, so furiously ; or, if you must keep a-straddle of them, all day, dash- ing along, withoTit any regard to your own life or limbs, or to the comfort or safety of others, do, at least, lock up the animals, at night. The drawing- room is not the place for such beasts. When, by dint of your own assiduous efforts, aid- ed by the faithful co-operation of your kindred, you have, at last, metamorphosed your own household into a scene of love, and peace, and sunshine, then go forth gallantly, and explore the evils of your own neighborhood. There are enough of them. Heaven knows, within sound of your own church-bells. Ig- norance and poverty ; vices and crimes, of all sorts and sizes. Hunt them up. Root them out. Give 98 ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. them no quartei*. The cause is a glorious one. Pursue it unto victory. When these conquests are effected, and you hare gathered in your laurels, and the blessings of your neighbors, suppose you then begin a magnificent as- sault on the Five Points. Rest not, till you have given this loathsome spot, a thorough ventilation and purification, physical and moral. Let your own town reap the benefit of your heroic exertions. And, oh, forget not the prior claims upon your heart, of your own dear native land. Merge not an ardent, efficient pati-iotism, in a vague and visionary philanthropy. Do good at home, instead of wasting the day in de- claiming against evil, at the other end of the earth. Put your strong shoulder to the great pohtical wheel. Do all you can, to make your country that model nation, which her flatterers are so ready to call her ; in which appellation, her vanity so readily ac- quiesces. When you have, at last, achieved all these splen- did victories in your own heart, and household, and neighborhood, and city, and native land, then it will be high time to go forth, with your ardent brother- crusaders, and have a glorious encounter with that fiend, Nicholas, (as you pleasantly style him,) and all his imps ; to crush beneath your righteous indig- nation, that young Nero of Austria, and all his bloody-minded satellites ! ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. 99 Is it SO strange, though, after all, that this man should be carried away with the great Magyar? Who, indeed, can resist the fascinations of his elo- quence, can withstand the magnetic influence of his presence ? All the weapons of the orator are his, indeed ! He wields them all, with consummate skill and power. He appeals, with the same irresistible effect, alike to our fears and our vanity, as .to our nobler and loftier impulses. Earnest, fervent, bril- liant as he is, taking such strong hold, as he does, even of the most sober-minded, is it at all wonderful, that your giddy enthusiasts are taken off their feet, in this wild, frantic dance, that they are leading 1 Will they not continue on in this turbulent, volcanic state, so long as • the illustrious champion keeps on this side of the water 1 Once fairly out of sight of our shores, and with what frightfulrapidity will this furor subside within them ! Yes, there will be peace and quiet, in those whirling brains of theirs, till the next sanguinary revolution is announced, by the next steamer. It may be in Paris, or it may be in Zan- zibar ; all the same to them. Or, perhaps, their generous sympathies may be aroused, by the unwar- rantable, abominable interference of the Tahitians, with the time-honored, social institutions of the Tongatabouans ! For shame, man, how can you sneer thus at the sacred cause of Hungary ? 100 ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY. Sir, I am not sneering at it. I honor the cause, and the man -vvho is advocating it -veith eloquence un- paralleled.' I admire his genius, and his learning. I respect his many virtues. I sympathise with his sufferings. But I am not going to be seduced away, by him or any other man, from my appropriate duties and calling. Heaven forbid, that our Government should, through the fascinations of his oratory, be entrap- ped into any entangling alliances, or bloody wars, abroad. Peace, peace, peace. The arts, and labors, and rewards of peace ; may these long be our portion. If we mtist fight, let it be with the elements. Let us put down ignorance and vice. Let us subjugate the wilderness. Let us explore the Poles. Let us go on, developing our resources ; building up our mighty system of rail-roads, and telegraphs. Why seek to divert steam and lightning from their true mission, as the agents and ministers of peace, and turn them into the hell-hounds of war ? Better far be multiplying our iron bonds of union ; better be studding our coasts with light-houses, and covering our hills with observatories. Better far be studying the stars, than picking holes in the coats of our Eu- ropean and Asiatic brethren. Better be ransacking the earth, and digging out its hidden treasures, than cutting each others' throats, at its surface. If a ENTHUSIASM FOR HUNGARY 101 bloody revolution is at hand in Europe, why, come it must, -without interference of ours. Our sympathies, and our purses, are, of course, as individuals, to be given to the cause of freedom. And if freedom lose the day, here vre are, ready to receive her refugees with open arms ; to share with them our means and lands ; to assign them, if they so will it, their lot and portion in the glorious destiny that is in store for us. But as to rushing forth, en masse, tumultuously, to the great battle-field, as some of these visionaries would have us, we are not going to make any such monstrous, and unexampled fools of ourselves. We mean to remain quietly at our labors, on our farms, and in our work-shops, and counting-houses, and courts, and pulpits. We mean to strengthen the foundations, lind to commence a worthy superstruc- ture, for our great political system. We mean, at least, to complete the first century of our political ex- istence, in peaceful industry, before we begin to go crusading about the globe, thrusting our institutions, at the points of our swords, in the faces of all the rest of Christendom. LETTER FROM NAPLES. In turning over some old papers, just now, I stum- bled on tlio following letter from my dear deceased friend, • . It is certainly very characteristic of him. " Naples, Jan. 19, 1849. My Dear Boy — Here I am, in this noisy, filthy, rascally town. Of all places in the Avorld, it is the very last, for such a nervous, irritable dog, as I am. What with the rattling of can-iagea, and the braying of donkeys, and the bawling of fishmongers, and the screeching of orange-venders, hang me, if I can find a moment's peace. To add to the confusion, Vesuvius has, all of a sudden, been taken very sick at the stomach, and threatens to throw up, every minute. Such clouds of smoke, such frightful rumblings, must mean something. I wish I was out of the scrape. If there were any accommodations there, I'd be off for Poes- tum, instanter. I went to Pompeii yesterday, in the hope of secu ring 07ie quiet, meditative day, to myself, if possible. I was sadly disappointed. The place seemed to be LETTER PROM NAPLES. 103 overrun with cliattering Cockneys, to say nothing of a score or two of self-conscious fellow-countrymen. One of the last, actually had the impertinence to come up and ask me, while quietly seated in the corridor of the glorious old amphitheatre, 'if the bay before us, did not forcibly recall to mind, that of Boston V I replied, very tartly, ' No ; but it is amazingly like that of Biscay, O.' The man stared, whistled, and departed. To complete the nuisances of the trip, I was dogged all through the town, by a couple of dirty custodi, who eyed me as if I had been the 'veriest thief; and when I lingered, for a moment, in one of the rooms, to make a little memo- randum of a fresco, that happened to catch my fancy, one of these same varlets growled at me most savage- ly, intimating, at the same time, in very beastly French, that all such transactions were positively forbidden. The idea, that a man can't be allowed to make a small sketch, or even memorandum, for his own gratification or convenience : There is an ilhberality, a paltriness about it, perfectly in keeping Avith this meanest and most despicable of govern- ments ! Of course, I went home to my dinner, in a rascally frame of mind. Of all the ill-governed nations of the earth, this of the Two Sicilies, confessedly, caps the climax. Rotten, rotten is it, to the very core. Hopelessly 104 LETTER FROM NAPLES. given over to ignorance, tyranny, and priestcraft, and, of course, therefore, to vice, and crime, and beg- gary. Why, an honest man is almost ashamed to venture abroad, here. The very moment you leave the door of your hotel, you are forthwith assailed by a gang of mingled beggars, pimps, pick-pockets, print-venders, antiquity-mongers, and hack-drivers. This latter class are a suflaciently turbulent, unprin- cipled set, all over the globe ; but those of Naples are pre-eminently infamous. The Father of Lies, himself, could hardly keep up with them. The same may be said of the pickpockets. Though invariably youths of the tenderest years, they yet manifest an assiduity, a devotion to their calling, that ought to . reap its appropriate reward, at the gallows, or the guillotine, at a very early period of their careei:. I was eased, this very morning, of one of my best cambric handkerchiefs, by a young operator of this description ; and came very near losing the second, but fortunately pounced upon the delinquent, flag- rmite delicto. In the first tempest and whirlwind of my emotion, I was for giving the varlet a heayty dose of my cane ; but he immediately entered upon a series of such indescribably sorrowful faces, and poured out such a flood of ^Perdoni, eccellenzas/ that I was fain to let him go, with a benediction and a solitary kick. Ah dear, if that same bright-eyed, LETTER FROM NAPLES. 105 young scamp, had been an American, now ! His parents, I am sure, never would have allowed him to go about the streets, in this half-naked, disgraceful style. Oh, no ! he'd have been over his books, this blessed minute, at the Public School, picking up les- sons of thrift, and wisdom, and virtue, that would have almost ensured a useful citizen to the commu- munity ; possibly, a President. What future awaits this poor lad, noio ? Rags, scoundrelism, and, pro- bably, a violent death ! Oh, Lord ! it makes one shudder, to think of these things ! It makes one's blood boil, too, to think of the vile rulers, that per- mit, nay, cause them ! By the way, I had the privilege of seeing His Most Gracious Majesty, in the street, yesterday. Gracious Majesty ! Why, a coarser, more vulgar- looking wretch, never figured in a prize-fight. He makes good butter, though ; capital butter ! As to his segars, tough customers though they be, they are yet far more respectable than their manufacturer ! These two branches of business, doth this mighty monarch monopolize. He likewise bags more than half a million of ducats, per annum, by catering to the gambling propensities of his victims ; subjects, I should say. Precious qualifications -and employments, these, for a liing ! The infernal brute ! I can't help say- 106 LETTER PROM NAPLES. ing it, even if this letter should be broken open, and I be sent to St. Elmo, for it, before nightfall. But the day of retribution will come. I shouldn't he surprised, any fine morning, to see this low-lived tyrant kicked from his throne, by an infuriated populace ; and if he should escape with his worth- less life, he will be lucky. Even these degraded creatures can't stand every thing. It may be my nervous irritability, that is to blame, but it seems to me, that the manners of this people are about as bad as their morals. I went into a shop in the Toledo, yesterday, to make a few pur- chases ; and upon venturing to air ray wishes, in Italian, the insolent whelp of a shop-keeper laughed in my face ! To be sure, Jones, who was with me, also regaled himself with a hearty guffaw. Hang the fellow ! my Italian is perfectly charming, along- side of his French ! Ah ! the more I think of it, the more convinced am I, that this same gift of tongues, is the rarest amongst mortals. If you wish your- youngsters to earn any laurels, in this depart- ment, you can't begin with them too soon after weaning. I had a taste, by the way, of Mezzofan- ti's wonderful acquirements in this line, while at Rome. That wicked wag, — , was along. He positively had the coolness to ask the cardinal, to render into Tuscarora, a copy of verses that he had LETTER FROM NAPLES. 107 with him, in honor of Mrs. Jervis's cough candy ! The old gentleman, though evidently surprised, most good-naturedly consented. ^They sounded well, I assure you, in the new version. I couldn't help wishing, though, that Red-Jacket had been with us, to test the accmacy of the translation. — remarked, as we went out, in his usual irreverent style, that he had no doubt, the cardinal would he in great demand, as an interpreter, at the final day of reckoning ! But it seems almost wicked to be laughing, and cracking jokes, in this forlorn, unhappy land. Poor, broken-hearted Italy ! will she ever again behold her former glories? will she ever become the home of free, intelligent, virtuous men ? Things look terribly unpromising. The whole land, with the solitary exception of Sardinia, looks the very picture of dreariness and desolation ! Her beautiful cities seem torpid even unto death. The once gay and prosperous Milan, has degenerated into a cheer- less barrack. Venice ; it makes your heart bleed to behold her, as she is crumbling, inch by inch, into the ocean. Florence, that used to be so sprightly, is gloomy as the grave. Her sovereign, once so beloved by his people, is now received with cold looks, and sullen silence. As to Rome, it is hardly an exaggeration to say, that the Corsq 108 LETTER FROM NAPLES. is as dull as the Forum, the Opera-house as silent and desolate as the Colosseum. This town, it is true, is full of bustle ; but, as I said before, it' is the bustle of beggars and blackguards. And so of the other cities. Bologna, once so famous as the Alma- Mater of sages, and the nurse of arts, will soon have nothing left, to brag of, but her sausages. Padua, that other time-honored seat of learning, now, just manages to keep her head above water, by doing a small silk and ribbon business. The energies of Ferrara seem entirely expended, in roast- ing chestnuts, and boiling cabbages. Cabbage, cabbage, cabbage. Go where you will, in Italy, there is no dodging the odor thereof. This, and thin, sour wine, constitute the main nutriment of this unhappy people. A good, hearty, generous dinner of meat, is, indeed, a stomach-astonisher, among them ! Precious materials to make heroes out of ! What can you expect from such a nation ? Their very virtues have nothing manly or robust about them. They are only fit to minister 'in hos- pitals, or to lie perdu in convents. They dare not come forth into the air, and play their part in the business of life. Oh, how different from our own glorious New-England standard ! Our goodness, thank Heaven, is the blessed result of a good reli- gion, good laws, and good Living ; theirs, the sorry LETTER PROM NAPLES. 109 product of superstition, despotism, and rascally- fare ! The very genius of the nation seems to have abandoned the professions, in despair, and to have taken refuge among pastry-cooks, and confectioners. All the great things in Art, here, now-a-days, are the work of foreigners. The natives are contented to be mere cutters of cameos, or bead-makers, or dabblers in lava. As to commerce, it is all but defunct ; in- ternal improvements, it is mere mockery to speak of them. The few small and scattered railroads that they have, are paltry affairs ; shockingly managed, and miserably unproductive. As to building, I have not seen a new house going up in the whole Penin- sula. The very horses and dogs seem to have lost' all spunk, and heart. Indeed, it is hardly extrava- gant to say, that the whole activity and enterprize of the land, are pretty much confined to its fleas and beggars ! Oh, what a shame, that this same Naples, the loveliest spot that the sun shines upon, should be abandoned, as it is, to imbecility, and vice, and wretchedness ! Where else on earth, is there such a combination of natural beauties ? such a charming interchange of sea and land ? Here are grand, ma- jestic mountains ; a soil as bounteous as the climate is delicious ; exquisitely formed, and most felicitously 110 LETTER FROM NAPLES. grouped islands ; shores as Ml of living charms, as they are haunted with classic memories ; glowing, glorious sunsets ; nay, the very sparkles of the waves seem more lustrous here, than elsewhere. To think, that such a spot, where God has lavished all the ma- terials for a perfect Paradise, should yet be under the control of such an infernal government ; should he thus overrun by a set of filthy, miserable, degraded dogs ! But I have harped sufficiently upon this string. I thought I would gratify an absurd whim, the other morning, by hunting up the Masaniello fami- ly. You know how enthusiastic we used to get over Sinclair and Wood, in the part, years ago, in the poor old, dead-and-gone Park ! Well, after a world of scolding and fussing, on my part, and a super- abundance of chattering and leg-labor on the part of my valet, we at last actually succeeded in laying our fingers upon the very man we were after. Yes, the identical lineal descendant of the illustrious fish- erman. To say truth, the interview was not pro- ductive of great results. He was, to be sure, a fine, handsome fellow, of some five and forty, with a noble set of teeth, a brilliant, black eye in his head, and a finely developed pair of legs, the feet whereof had evidently, from their first start in life, been entire strangers to shoes and stockings. But then, he was LETTER FROM NAPLES. Ill SO frightfully ignorant of our constitution, and laws, and history ! When I spoke to him of Patrick Henry, and John Hancock, and Elbridge Gerry, and Daniel Webster, and Henry Clay, he had a painfully emba- rassed and bewildered look. Not even the name of Washington seemed to convey any idea to his benight- ed mind. But when I alluded to the oysters of Fu- saro, and to the soles, flounders, and other occupants of the sparkling bay before us, ah, then how his eyes lighted up, and those of Mrs. M., and of all the lit- tle M.'s, some dozen of w^hom had come romping into the room, to see the stranger. Most of these same urchins, by the way, were frightfully near a state of nature. On the whole, the affair was a decided hum- bug ; all, save the closing scene, when I tendered him a half-ducat, on condition that he would favor me with a real, old-fashioned. Barcarole. This he most cheei'fuUy complied with, all the youngsters joining in the chorus. He revealed a truly magni- ficent tenor, pouring forth a flood of melody, which I have never heard equalled on the stage, by any of the representatives of his famous ancestor, Mario alone, perhaps, excepted. Three cheers from the as- sembled crowd, wound up this, evidently, most unex- pected visit. But I am scribbling on here, by way of relief to 112 LETTER FROM NAPLES. my own nen'eSj'and shamefully trying your patience and temper. So let me stop wliere I am. I hope I shall have the felicity of shaking hands with you before another 4th of July comes round. I don't like the idea of laying my hones here, amongst these vagabonds. Oh no ; glorious old Dutchess, for my final resting-place. Grod bless her ! How I love her stately hills ! The very breezes seem to blow over them more blithely ; the very birds seem to fly above them with freer wing, than in this land of bond- age and decay. But then, there's that terrible ocean to be crossed first ! yes, in spite of all the triumphs of Collins, it still remains, a frightful, frightful dose. Those mag- nificent tributary stanzas of Byron, yield no comfort to my unhappy stomach, which is, even now, groan- ing at the prospect before it. To me, the deep, deep sea, ever has been, ever will be, one colossal, unre- mitting, unrelenting emetic ! Grood bye." WIG&INS JUNIOR. There is, really, na getting along with that young Wiggins. The scamp actually went to his father's office, the other morning, and seeing a com- mission lying on the table, which the old gentleman is about sending to Alabama, he was guilty of the unspeakable impertinence of filling up the blanks thereof, with the following interrogatories. 1. " Did Noah obey orders so faithfully, as to take a couple of skunks into the ark with him ? 2. Did Methusaleh, or not, keep a record of the thermometer ; and how many folios is it supposed to have occupied ? 3. Was said Methusaleh in favor of Capital Pun- ishment, or did he adopt the theory of imprisonment for life? 4. What were his views on the subject of k Pro- tective Tariff? 5. Were, or were not, his days materially short-- ened in consequence of Family Jars ? 6. Were, or were not, the Maccabees, furious snuff-takers 1 7. Was, or was not, King Solomon in the habit 114 WIGGINS JUNIOR. of making New- Year's presents to all the members of lus extensive family circle ? 8. Are, or are not, the Seraphim as passionately- fond of mathematical studies, as is generally sup- posed? 9. To what extent are .the rings of Saturn be- lieved to be mortgaged? 10. How many of these are second mortgages ? 11. Are lunacy and Lunatic Asylums, corres- pondingly numerous in that seven-mooned planet ? 12. Air your views, in extenso, if you please, on the following points. The Authorship of Junius. The Man in the Iron Mask. The Future of Louis Kossuth. The probable career of Louis Napoleon. The Presidential prospects of Lewis Cass." The young dog, you may be sure, took precious good care to be out of the way when Wiggins seni- or first caught sight of the document. How wrathy the old fellow did get ! At the same time, I thought there was a queer expression about his mouth, while perusing it. There was, manifestly, a mighty effort to keep his countenance, as he handed it to me. Can there, can there be any justification of con- duct so abominable 1 To say nothing of the intrin- sic impropriety of the tranbaction, there is a spirit of irreverence, and mockery, about it, which it is frightful to dwell upon ! WIGGINS JUNIOR. 115 But did the young scape-grace mean anything so very awful by it ? Was he not poking a little fun, merely, at the proneness to irreleyancy, and long- "svindedness, of most legal, and other discussions? Or, perhaps, he was merely relieving that young brain of his of a crowd of whimsical images, which was oppressing it ; a sort of gaol delivery of jokes. It is more charitable to think so. He is, indeed, the son of his father. Wiggins himself is one of the most eccentric, and fanciful of mortals. His expres- sions are invariably quaint and peculiar ; and too often, (at least, according- to a strict Presbyterian view of things,) highly, highly reprehensible. Somehow or other, I can't help feeling, (and I be- lieve W. feels so, too,) that this same young vaga- bond, should he be spared, will be heard from. Whe- ther from the stump, or the gallows, it would be ha- zardous to say. CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. 1 WAS just now looking over Mystifico's address before the Callitliumpian Society, delivered some few years since. I was present at tlie time. Ne- ver shall I forget the solemnity of manner, with ■syhich he gave the following passage. Had it been an extract from Wilberforce's Practical View, or a leaf or two out of Doddridge, he could not have looked more profoundly serious. " In this connexion, gentlemen, I am proud to al- lude to an event, which has recently occurred among us, and which has produced a profound impression in our community, and, indeed, throughout our Repub- lic. I refer, of course, to the memorable Hyer and Sullivan encounter. I 'need not tell you how full the papers have been of it ; how the simple, yet vi- vid narratives of its progress, and consummation, have tasked the energies of our telegraphic opera- ■ tors, to the complete, and most righteous exclusion, of Foreign News, and of the Proceedings of our Fe- deral and State Legislatures ; how the people have assembled, in groups of all sorts and sizes, at the corners of the streets, to discuss it ; how, in a word, CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. 117 no event in our annals, unless perhaps, we may ex- cept the famous passage-at-arms between Hayne and Webster, has. taken such a firm, and abiding hold upon the feelings of the nation. And, gentlemen, is it to be wondered at ? Must it not have been a glorious, a spirit-stirring spectacle, the coining together of these " lights of men," these delicice humani generis ? Only think of two human beings, rational and responsible agents, destined to an immortality of ceaseless progress, and infinite de- velopment, standing up face to face, in all their naked, manly majesty, and beauty ; see them sur- rounded by a .circle of enthusiastic votaries, compos- ed of the very flower of our citizens ; comprising all that is venerable in years, exemplary in character, precious in reputation, and fascinating in manners. And now, they contemplate each other, with an ex- pression of fierce, yet generous defiance ; they shake hands impressively ; they fall into position, and pre- sently, they begin a series of sublime and beautiful evolutions, and demonstrations, at once the wonder, and glory of pugilism ! What heart does not leap within him, as he reads the unadorned, but most gra- phic, descriptions of the scene ! As round after round passes before us, (each worthy to constitute a book of some majestic epic,) how the incidents crowd upon the imagination ! What a combination ! What 118 CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. a hammering of knowledge-boxes ; wliat a peppering of bread-baskets ; -what a piercing of claret-casks ; what a plucking forth of locks ; what a tripping up of heels ; what a knocking out of masticators ; what an embroidering and embellishing of peepers, pass in quick, in magical succession before us ! We lis- ten to the mingled jeers, and cheers of the excited partizans ; we gaze admiringly upon the calm, im- partial, and scrupulously accurate judges ! Grand and glorious spectacle ! How tame, and vulgar, in comparison, were the Olympic games, or the vaunted exhibitions of the Circus Maximus, and the Colos- seum ! How mean, and spiritless, the jousts and tournaments of the mediaival era ! Whether we contemplate this superb scene, as artists, or men of science, as moralists, or as christians, we are proud to render it our profoundest homage ; we are proud to belong to the age, and the land, of which it is the crowning honor ! And, gentlemen, was not just such an event need- ed amongst us ? Was not the public mind, at the period of its occurrence, in great dsinger of becoming altogether too spiritual ? of turning too deaf an ear to the legitimate calls of flesh and blood ; of quite neglecting material, in the mad chase after moral in- terests ? Were not the insidious precepts and doc- trines of Chalmers, and Ohanning, and Cheverus, and CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS" 119 Fenelon, and Oberlin, and Swedenborg, and sucli like visionaries, leading us frightfully astray from tlie more legitimate duties and pleasures of life ? I can- not help thinking so. I cannot but feel, that this tendency to super-spirituality, which has ever been the besetting sin of humanity, was painfully conspi- cuous about the time when this great incident in our annals transpired. An incident, which I Tnust hail .as full of good omens ; an incident which cannot fail of bringing about a most wholesome, re-acting influ- ence in favor of the realities, and substantialities of every-day life'. And now, gentlemen, allow me to ask, how is it, that the noble science of pugilism has been so shame- fully neglected among us ? Why are we, as a city, so far behind the neighboring city-of-brotherly-love, in this regard ? Why are we not encouraging a taste for it among the rising generation ? Why does it not form a part of our otherwise admirable Common School System ? Why is it so neglected in our pri- vate Seminaries, and Colleges ? Why does it not en- ter, more frequently, into the exercises of our Com- mencements ? Why do not the Faculty set a good example in this matter, and by giving occasional exhibitions among themselves, thus promote a gene- rous emulation among the students 1 But, above all, why is not this beautiful science 120 CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. called in, more freely and frequently, to relieve and embellisli the labors of our Legislators 1 Why, gen- tlemen, there were actually, only three or four of these interviews between the members, during the last long session, in the House of Representatives ; and only one, of the same sort, was got up for the amusement and edification of the Senate. And in the Supreme Court of the Eepublic, there has not been a solitary entertainment of this nature, from its first organization. This should not be. We all know how the venerable Oh. J. Marshall felt upon this matter. Here are his own words, as cited in Micawber vs. Copperfield, 4 Peters, 287. 'I have ever thought, that the dry arguments, alike of law- yers and lawgivers, ought occasionally to be relieved by athletic exercises, and muscular demonstrations, of the character described by the counsel for the plaintiif. In this way alone, can we hope to render palpable, and attractive to the junior members of the profession, its more abstruse and technical portions.' One more question, gentlemen, and I will take leave of this subject. How is it that Art has been sp criminally negligent in illustrating and immor- tahzing the labors of pugilists ? It was not so in olden times. The Gods themselves, often conde- scended to figure as champions of the ring ; and the proudest sculptors in the land, were delighted to put CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. 121 their labors into marble. Have not Phidias and Praxetiles themselves, thus eternized the feats of Oastor and Pollux? And even in our own times, has not the mighty genius of Canova been employed in consecrating similar exploits? Why not follow examples so glorious? Why not render appropriate honors, with pen, and pencil, and chisel, even now, to the distinguished champions, whose praises are in all mouths ; whose yet swollen heads are shaded with well-earned laurels ; who have reflected so much honor, themselves, alike upon their country, and humanity ! It is in vain, alas, that we could appeal to Con- gress, upon any subject of this nature. Otherwise, it might be suggested, that the statues of these illustrious combatants would be, at the same time, most becoming ornaments to the eastern wing of the Capitol, and most appropriate vis^a-vis to the majestic figure of Washington. But why will not the good people of Baltimore take up the matter, in good earnest ; especially, as their city was the nearest to the ever-memorable scene of action ? Why not subscribe forthwith, and send commissions to Powers and Greenough, for two colossal portraits of the heroes ; to be placed, when finished, upon each side of that stately shaft, which is crowned by the great Pater Patriae 7 122 CALLITHUMPIAN ADDRESS. What more touching tribute to worth, could be de- vised ; what more apt and felicitous position be selected ? Here would be a noble example to set the nation, as well as an invaluable addition to the manifold external attractions of the superb City of Monuments." * The same tone of solemn irony pervades the whole discourse ; painfully so, indeed. One cannot help feeling, that the author was more under the influence of a mocking, Mephistophelian spirit, than of a sincere and hearty hatred of vice and brutality. Mystifico is quite too fond of the satirical and sar- castic style. It has often earned him the appella- tions of cynic, and misanthrope ; whereas, a warm- er, better heart, ne'er beat in human bosom. The discourse was exceedingly well received, however, by the distinguished Society, before whom it was pronounced ; and they unanimously insisted on its publication. FRENZY OF THE ELDER WIGGINS. I CALLED on Wiggins to-day. I found him in a frightfully inflammatory state. He didn't con- descend to reply to my salutation, but kept storm- ing and fuming about his library, in the most sa- vage and absurd manner imaginable. So I quietly slipped into a chair, and watched the progress of the gale. " The scoundrel— the blackguard— the vagabond ! To think, that I should have been forestalled by such a low-lived wretch ! Such an infernal looking villain, too ! If he isnH one of the biggest scamps afloat, then is Satan no penman. What wouldn't such a rascal do ? Why, Fieschi himself was a handsome, pleasant-looking fellow, alongside of him ; and his infernal machine, a mere joke, to the enormities this man is capable of He'd dissect his own father, the scoundrel ! subject his own mother's tears to chemical analysis ; play poker in a pulpit ; throw red-hot pennies to beggars; strew broken glass before school-houses, and then grin, to see the poor little children's feet bleeding ; pull the last rose 124 FRENZY OF THE ELDER WIGGINS. of summer itself, to pieces, just because it was the last rose of summer. The vitriol-thrower — the fish- pond poisoner— the church-firer — the robin red-breast murderer ! The idea of having to live with such a villain ! It's bad enough to be in the same universe with him. The idea of circumnavigating the planet, in such company ! Why, I couldn't even go to Brooklyn, in the same boat, without a collision. I couldn't sit in the same omnibus, without its end- ing in a most sanguinary scuffle ! Talk about the sun's not going down upon one's wrath ! Poh I I'd see a whole heaven full of suns rise, and set, and rise again, before I'd keep the peace, with such an atrocious blackguard. Ugh — I could shake my fist at his very corpse. I could bequeath a quarrel with him, to my children, and children's children. It would be a comfort to me, now, to know that, ages hence, my lineal descend- ants will be waging war with his lineal descendants, about this very business ! Curse him ! — I could knock ten sets of teeth down his throat, with a relish. I could throw things at him, through his very prison-bars. I could give nine cheers, at his execution. I could " But here Wiggins's breath forsook him. I took advantage of the lull, to inquire into the origin and FRENZY OF THE ELDER WIGGINS. 125 meaning of this most extraordinary, most abomi- nable outburst. What was the matter, then ? Had some scoun- drel been forging his name, to a large amount? No. Had some blackguard been insulting his wife, or daughters ? No. Had some brute of a school- master been abusing his boys? Nothing of the sort. Had he been served as the unprincipled Tomp- kins had served his bail? Was that the occasion of this frightfully strong language ? No. Of course, it was no successful rival in some love affair, that he was thus bespattering. No, indeed. W. is a man of altogether too much principle, to indulge in any such forbidden luxury, as bigamy. He is an exemplary husband, a respectable house- holder; and his home is (barring an occasional volcanic manifestation, like the above,) a tranquil, happy one. What was it, then? Had his corns been trod on? Had his newspaper been stolen? Had his tailor, for the ten thousandth time, lied unto him ? Or had he been the recipient of suspicious, or erro- neous change ? Surely, such comparative trifles as these, could no more explain, than they could justify, such furious behavior. Alas, the true cause was not much more signifi- cant. It was simply this. It seems that Wiggins 126 FRENZY OF THK ELDER WIGGINS.. had set his heart on going, with, his daiighters, to Jenny Lind's Grand Valedictory Coacert. . Enthu- siastic admirer that he is, he was anxious to catch the last notes of the glorious warbler, before her final flight to her native groves. Full of this feel- ing, he had hurried down his breakfast, hastened to the . bpx-pflice, and on examining the plan, he discovered, to his great joy, that there were half-a- dozen most choice seats, yet unsecured. 'Twas the very number he wanted. His mind was made up, instanter. He was on the very point of taking them, when his ever-present evil genius prompted him to turn aside, to indulge his nose with a most unseasonable sneeze. This movement sealed his doom. The individual next him, (that is to say, the identical individual, whom W. was so anathe- matizing, when I entered his room,) quietly slipped in, and secured the places in question. And now, there were none left, save a very few, distant, and secluded ones, in the gallery. It was rather hard, to be flung out of one's chance, in such a provoking, and withal, most absurd style. How the box- keeper must have enjoyed it ! Not so, Wiggins. He confesses, that he behaved abusive, and came very near getting into a disgraceful scuffle. He went down to his ofiice, but could not attend to his business. So he returned home, some three hours FRENZY OF THE ELDER WIGGINS. 127 earlier than usual ; somewhat relieved by fresh air, and rapid walking ; still, in a decidedly tumultuous frame of mind, when he entered his library. It took all the genius of Irving, to tranquillize him. Fortunately, a volume of the " Tales of a Traveler" was lying upon the table. He took it up, and had, soon forgotten his troubles, in its delicious pages, when that same evil genius of his, again prompted him to step to the window, for a moment. Who should be going by, at that very juncture, but the identical intruder, who had so shamefully supplant- ed him at the box-office ; lounging along, in the most cool, nonchalant style conceivable, behind a segar ! This was too much. Certainly, too much for a creature, constituted like Wiggins. It threw him, forthwith, into that " fine frenzy," the latter portion of which, with all its wealth of language, and its redundancy of gesture, it was my lot to witness. . Such is an unvarnished statement of the whole affair. Comment seems superfluous. The trans- action speaks volumes, nay, libraries, for itself Poor Wiggins! But I will not dwell upon a theme so painful. TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. I have been favored, this morning, with another of ■ 's long-winded harangues. His theme was, the value and importance of Truth. Yes, a good half-hour's dose was I compelled to take of it, and be hanged to him ! Had the man really said any thing new, or pro- found, or even striking, it wouldn't have been so bad. Or had he arranged his thoughts, with any thing like logical method, or used language with becoming accuracy, I could have forgiven him this invasion of my time. But to wander all over crea- tion, in the way he did, to repeat over and over again the same interminable truisms, to enforce his point by the same old hackheyed, vulgar illustra- tions, and to do all this, in the gagisterial, oracular tone of a great teacher, it is really too outrageous. It all but justifies the throwing of boot-jacks. As if we didn't all know, that we ought to prefer truth to pleasure, or indolence, or wealth, or vanity ! As if the trouble did not consist, a hundred fold less, in these heads, than in these wayward, wicked hearts of ours ! TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. 129 But even our understandings may not always be so amazingly well posted up, on this same subject of Truth, as this Sir Oracle, evidently, considers his. What is this same Truth ? Who hath it ?— How are we to know, that we have got hold of the genuine article? Are we to take for granted, this same proser's whims and notions, and swallow them down, without word or wink ; or are we pa- tiently, faithfully, honestly, to explore matters for ourselves ? Truth, indeed ! Why, it was only yesterday, that I met half-a-dozen friends, coming from as many different churches. Did not each one of them stop me, to express his enthusiastic admiration of the sermon he had just heard, and his profound regret, that I had not been one of the favored listen- ers ? " No such discourse," (so said every mother's son of them,) " has been heard in town, this day." Pray, where was the truth, on this occasion ? Was any one of these warm admirers, altogether right in the matter, and the rest, altogether wrong? Or was there some foundation for all their eulogies ? Is it so easy a thing, then, to lay our fingers on this so much vaunted Truth ? Is it to be picked up, for the mere stooping ? Is it a thing, that every shallow, conceited, domineering creature, that comes along, may lay claim to, and lecture about, as if it 130 TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. were some mineralogical specimen, forsooth, which he was holding up to his audience ; or is it-a hard matter, indeed, \Vhich is to cost us a world of pon- dering, and studying, and struggling, and digging, and diving, and exploring, to get at? And how many men are there, who are fit to go on any such grand exploring expedition ; who have muscle and nerve enough, heart and soul enough ; who can combine patience, and good temper, and judgment, with an ardent, intrepid, self-sacrificing nature? Once in a century, perhaps, some such glorious fellow heaves in sight, laden with his pre- cious spoils. He has worked and fought hard enough for them, Heaven knows ; and here the treasures are. Rare things, indeed ! Invaluable secrets, in art and in science, in faith and in morals ! But what sort of a reception do they meet with ? Those that chime in with our fancies, or minister unto our appetites, are, of course, sure of a holiday greeting. But those others, which, priceless though they be, are yet, unpalatable to our interests or prejudices, at the tables of how many men, are they welcome guests ? This same individual, who was singing the praises of Truth, so lustily, to me, this morning, is he at all pleased with doctrines, that run counter to his own? Or is he downright angry, if every frieml TRUISMS ABOUT TR-UTH. 131 he meets with, does not promptly echo his own opinions ; does not, forthwith, jump up behind him, on his kicking, spattering hobby, and. dash on head- long,- to victory or death ! Social and moral truths, generally, how are they received by the world ? What sort of a greeting doth the .indolent, and selfish, and sensual crowd, accord to them? Even in this enlightenfed com- munity, doth not a vast majority, both of young and old, prefer gazing at the legs of a dancer, or gaping over the tricks of a juggler,, to listening to the calm, wise words of a Webster, even, or a Dewey? The one may read his profound political lessons, and the other unfold his comprehensive views of life, in small chapels, to select but slender audiences, while. theire is not even standing-room, at the nightly reunions of Negro Minstrels, and the soirees of Magicians are thronged with starers ! . Truth in Art, too ; are we prompt to recognize and appreciate, to applaud and reward it ? AVhat painter ever told more glor'ious truths, with his pen- cil, than Cole ? Was not the beautiful «ver minis- tering unto the good, in his inestimable pictures ? And yet, could all his genius keep poverty from his door? Nq. At the same time, every absurd carri- cature, every filthy /lithograph, that figured in the shop-windows, w.as*sure of its thousands of pur- 132 TRUISMS- ABOUT TRUTH. chasers. Has it not always been so ? The painter of titled harlots was loaded with orders, and ribbons, and favors, while his poor brother artist, with an hundred fold his genius and character, could only dream of glory, in his garret, and wake, to starva- tion, in a prison. Truth-tellers, generally, be they Inventors or Dis- coverers, Philosophers or Philanthropists, how hath it fared with them, on the whole, since the year one, at the hands of their brethren ? Have plaudits and laurels, or sneers and stripes been their reward ? — Have they been more familiar with the painted ceilings of palaces, or the damp walls of dungeons 1 Have showers of dollars, or of brickbats, been their almost invariable portion ? There is a quaint passage, on this subject, in a queer little book, which my lamented friend Nubbins ventured to consign to print, a few years since. I may well say, ventured, for, somehow or other, only two copies of the work ever found buyers. " Is it not marvellous, how, in our dealings with Truth, we completely reverse all the beautiful max- ims, the observance of which makelh society the Paradise it is ! Ordinarily, we sing people's praises to their faces ; and when their backs are turned, proceed straightway to indemnify ourselves therefor, by copious and vigorous slanders : v.'hereas, in the TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. 133 case of her Divine Ladyship, we all, with one ac- cord, chant paeans about her, in her absence, and yet have nought but cold words, cold looks, cold shoulders, to greet her withal ! Is it not so ? In what profession, in what walk of life, is her's a wel- come presence ? Will even the controversialist, her professed champion, allow her a place in his pages, or her dearest friend, the Divine, give her a com- fortable lodgment, in his sermons ? The Lawyer will not suffer her to look over his brief; the Doctor dare not show her. either his bills or his prescrip- tions. The Epicure forsaketh her straightway, for his dainties, the Voluptuary for his guilty pleasures. The Editor banisheth her from his leaders, and his subscribers, from their advertisements. The Poet will have nought to do with her ; and if, in spite of him, she will sometimes appear in his verses, he most effectually expels her from his prefaces and dedications. The Beauty cannot abide her, either in ball-room, or in boudoir, and the Philosopher him- self, shame on him, is ready to abandon her, at any moment, for pudding, or for praise. The Menial slammeth his master's door in her face ; the Fop cutteth her, in the streets, and the Debtor turneth sharp corners to avoid her. The very Beggars will have no dealings with her. The very tombstones themselves, reject and repudiate her ! Poor thing, 134 TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. is it any wonder, that she is so anxious to return to the Heaven from whence she came, since wicked mortals are, and ever have been, doing their iitmos-^t to make Earth imcomfortable and repulsive to her !" I can't help thinking, by the way, that this same little work of Nubbins, deserved a somewhat better fate, than that profound oblivion which so eifectu- ally overtook it; for, though decidedly stilted in style, and abounding in a certain affectation of originality, there are good thoughts in it. But to return, to my oracular friend. Among other things, he remarked, with a peremptory wave of the hand, that no circumstances under Heaven, could ever justify a lie. Such a bit of ultraism might have been expected, perhaps, from such a quarter. It Surely ■will not bear a moment's inspec- tion. Rare, indeed, are the cases, when we are thus cornered; thus compelled to part company with truth. But when they do occur ; when, for instance, there is no other way of saving the life, or honor of a wife, or child, or dear friend, from evil-minded violence, or from a scandal-mongering world, what heart can he- sitate a moment in the matter ? What tongue with- hold its falsehood in such a case ? Out with it, man. Heaven will forgive it, nay, smile upon it, for the very motive's sake. Nay more ; may there not be circumstances, where- TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. 135 in a lie would be a perfect feather in its teller's cap ? If no such case, as the folloiving, for instance, ever has occurred,. how easily might it. Suppose then, you had been an officer, sejving un- der Washington. Suppose your duty had called you to act in his immediate neighborhood, in some hard- fought-battle. The fight is a fierce, and desperate one. Fortune is frowning upon your side. In his zeal and anxiety, the general has quite lost sight of his own safety, and has involved himself in the very thickest of the fight. In the height of the tumult, you find yourself surrounded, and taken prisoner. It is evident, from the exultation of your captors, that they have mistaken you for the commander-in-chief. You at once see their error, and forthwith, do all that in you lies, positively and negatively, by look, word, and action, to favor the deception. You thereby cre- ate a.diversion, for the moment, which enables him to disentangle himself from the enemy. He makes good his retreat to another part of the field. The very timeliness of his escape inspires him with new ardor, his soldiers with new courage. They rally again, at his bidding. His words and presence are a cordial to them. And now they fight like devils, un- der him ; the tide begins to turn ; the foe gives way, and, finally, a glorious victory is gained. And your 136 TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH prompt, and prudent conduct, at a critical moment, was the cause thereof. But, my friend, you were guilty of deception, gross deception. If you did not originate, you at least aided and abetted in a lie. Now, I must take the liberty of calling a false- hood, told under such circumstances, a glorious, a magnificent falsehood. Suppose you had acted other- wise, and the day had, thereby, been lost, what sort of a vindication would it have been of your conduct, had you said, that such was your profound, and ha- bitual reverence for truth, that even in such an emer- gency as this, you could not suffer the mind of an enemy, even, to be thus criminally abused ? An indignant pish, and a look of utter scorn, would, of course, have been the only appropriate reply to such an explanation. As it is, the tr'ansaction will stand to your eternal credit, on the page of the his- torian, and your descendants will be proud to bear your name. The following passage, which I ran against the other day, in that storehouse of grand and beautiful thoughts, Lamb's Dramatic Poets, seems to me, to contain in its eight little lines, far more that is both striking, and appropriate, on this subject, than could be extracted from an eight hours' talk thereon, by TRUISMS ABOUT TRUTH. 137 any such prosy individual as . There is a plaintive tone about it, which is quite charming : " How clouded Man Doubts first, and from one doubt doth soon proceed A thousand more, in solving of the first ! Like 'nighted travelers, we lose our way. That every ignis fatuus makes us stray. By the false lights of Reason led about. Til! we arrive where we at first set out : Nor shall we e'er truth's perfect highway see, Till dawns the day-break of eternity." THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. Into what an infinity of scrapes is my absent- minded friend , perpetually getting himself ! His last freak was plunging into Dearborn's Mine- ral-Water Wagon, instead_of an omnibus. That, perhaps, was not so very strange, though ; for there is, at first blush, a decided resemblance. Poor feUow, he bruised his shins badly, besides breaking any number of bottles, and having his eyes most satis- factorily damned by the driver. But the lesson will be completely thrown away upon him. He'll be do- ing something just as absurd, to-morrow. It was no longer ago than last Sunday, that he testified his ap- probation of the discourse, by vehement applause. I. don't wonder at it. The sermon was a glorious one. One of Dr. B.'s best ; full of earnest, glowing passages. The effect of such a demonstration may be readily imagined. The scene which it caused, ended in a pressing invitation, on the part of the sexton, to retire ; with which, greatly mystified and embaras- sed, • finally complied, to the great relief of all present. This same man came very near going to a funeral, the other day, at which he had been invited THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. 139 to act as pall-bearer, in a white drilling roundabout. Luckily he was stopped in good season, and another shameful contre-temps was avoided. The most lu- dicrous manifestation of this infirmity of his, though, that I ever witnessed, was his addressing an assem- blage of slaughtered hogs, in the Bowery. Poor things, there they were, prettily arranged, on a par- cel of old barrels, in front of a g'rocery, most scien- tifically cloven and embowelled, their heads all point- ing to the east, their innocent jaws duly distended with corn-cobs ; forming, altogether, a most gracious and pathetic spectacle. , however, evidently mistook them for a jury of his country, and immedi- ately commenced an argument before them. I have no doubt it would have turned out to have been a most able and interesting one, too, had I not, fortu- nately, been by, and nipped it in the bud ; not, how- ever, before a considerable collection of admirers had come together. Really, his family ought not to allow him to go out alone. It is perfectly amazing that he has not, long ere this, been killed, or drowned, or, at least, seri- ously injured. I should, no doubt, be accused of trifling with truth, were I to relate the one hundredth part of the absurd scenes which this weakness of his has occa- sioned. Is not his life, indeed, one perpetual series 140 THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. of them ? Why, this man hath positively heen known, on going to his hbrary for a book, and find- ing the door locked, to knock, knock, knock, for five minutes together, before realizing his situation. He hath been known to enter an undertaker's shop, to look at furniture. He hath taken prescriptions to Thompson & Weller's. He hath called for ice- cream, and other delicacies, at Louillard & Delluc's. Thrice, in the same morning, hath he been measured by as many different tailors. Three times, in the same day, hath he bought a turkey for dinner, with a corresponding array of vegetables. Is he not eter- nally in the wrong shop, or the wrong box, or the wrong pew ? Half the time, he mistaketh his neigh- bor's house for his own. Seldom or ever is he walk- ing in his own boots, or under his own hat. If the weather looks threatening, he will take his cane out with him, thinking that he hath his umbrella. Does he get a bill and receipt? He is sure to light his pipe with it before night. He hath been known to tender a thousand dollar note to an astonished ferry- man. He hath been seen to go aboard a Collins' steamer, supposing it to be the Canal street ferry- boat. / have seen him deliberately walk to the steward's pantry of the Hendrick Hudson, and there tender his fare ; manifestly mistaking it for the Cap- tain's office. Ludicrous, indeed, was his explanation. THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. 141 Long and loud, the peals of laughter, from the men of color, assembled there. Is he ever in the right train, or on board the right vessel? Does he ever point out the right luggage, or jump into the right coach 7 If he sets out for Hoboken, is he not almost certain to bring up at Willlamsburgh, and vice versa ? Did he not, actually, the other night, leave home, in- tending to go and hear a learned Pundit, from New England, deliver a lecture before the Mercantile Li- brary Association ; and did he not find himself, be- fore he was aware of it, in the midst of a select cir- cle, where a couple of spirited terriers were rapidly annihilating a crowd of spunky rats ? Has he not been known to take Tom Jones to church instead of his Prayer-Book 1 Did he not put a lottery ticket in the plate once, after a most eloquent Charity Ser- mon ? Has he not actually maie New-Year's calls on Thanksgiving Day? Hath he not, repeatedly, wished me a Merry Christmas, on the Fourth of July? Did he not, once, cut the same caper that Archimedes did, while bathing, in a similar fit of ab- straction, to the unqualified terror, and prompt dis- pei-sion of the females of the family ? But I might go on, and fill a quire with such plain unvarnished statements, and yet the half would not be told. Is he not, iji fine, eternally doing and say- ing the most extraordinary, absurd, and unreason- 142 THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. able things ; thereby involving himself in sempi- ternal hot water ; thereby bringing a perpetual succession of hornets' nests, both literal and figu rative, about his ears ? There's no use of talking to him, however. Advice, remonstrance, experience, are, all alike, thrown away upon him. I am sure, and I speak it not irreverent- ly, that were it his good fortune upon the great day of account, to be dismissed with a benediction, he would, nevertheless, out of sheer absence of mind, be seen taking the left hand road ; and unless some kind angel promptly set him right, he would, in all probability, receive his portion with the accursed. So thoroughly, so hopelessly fastened upon him is this most unfortunate infirmity ! ART UNION GLANCES. As I was going into the Art Union Gallery, this morning, I met , coming out. He discour- aged me from entering ; remarking, in his off-hand way, that the collection was a miserable set of daubs, and humbugs, and- that he wouldn't take-the Whole concern as a gift. Notwithstanding this summary, and comprehen- sive criticism, I thought I would venture in. Daubs, indeed ! vile, vile daubs ! One of the very first, of these same daubs, that I ran against, was KenseWs Mount Washington, as seen from the Valley of Conway. Yes, there was the glorious old fellow, in propria persona, with his gallant compeers about him; his brows crowned with eternal snow ; lifting his venerable head into the soft, summer sky ; June sitting at his feet, in all her freshness and verdure. What a daub ! Close by it, is another perpetration, by the same pretender, called the Indian Rendezvous. Infa- mous ! why, this man knows no more about land- scapes, than Bryant does about poetry, or Crawford about sculpture, or Haviland about architecture ! 144 ART-UNION GLANCES. Hard by, is another abomination, by one Church, denominated New England Scenery. Such a mis- erable coming together of wood and water, would have disgraced even that tinkerer of landscapes, Dominichino himself ! How could I have been such an ass, as to linger over it ? nay, to feel the tears stealing into my eyes, as I gazed upon the old mill, and the waterfall, and the wagon crossing the bridge, and that little promontory struggling out into the sunshine, and the groups of hills, and the spires peeping out of the woods, and at that great pile of white clouds, in the distance ! Horrible, horrible performance ! What a bit of swindling, on canvass, too, is that alongside of it ! that Cavalier, I mean, by Elliott. Spiritless, inexpressive thing ! How any man could paint, or any Art-Union could purchase, such a thing, is indeed, a mystery. Why, it is unworthy, even of Rubens himself, or the dauber, Vandyck ! That atrocious affair, likewise, by Woodville, the Game of Chess ! 1 should as soon think of throw- ing away my money on Van Ostade, or Gerard Dow! And the Gallery is full of just such humbugs. See that rascally daub, by Huntington, for instance. Yes, that same wild, grand, poetical daub of a land- scape. Who dare say, that there is any romance, ART-UNION GLANCES. 145 oi sentiment, in that picture? any evidences, in- deed, either of thought, or of labor? Somehow or other, as I gaze upon that shattered trunk, and that mysteriously black and tranquil lake, with its brawling outlet of a brook, and the frowning rocks above it, and the trees still struggling with the gale, and the tumultuous sky overhead, and the dreary cavern, and the solitary figure in armor, and, above all, the beautiful vista beyond, I can't hejp sighing after the good old days of chivalry, can't help re- gretting, that I belong to this bustling, democratic, nineteenth century ! See that abominable daub, too, by Durand, nearly opposite. A man, who is all the time doing horrible things of the kind, but this, most horrible ! Oh, who would not give all his lands and goods, to be able to daub, in this fashion 1 Who, that is imprisoned in town, all his days, condemned to drag his heels over these eternal pavements, does not feel refreshed by, and profoundly grateful for, such a bit of Nature ? That placid, winding stream, and the spreading trees upon its banks, and those comfortable cattle and sheep, and the long shadows of evening, stealing across that cozy road, are they not a perfect cordial to the eyes ? Doth not the whole scene speak unto us, of plenty, and peace, and good will ? May the artist keep daubing thus, 146 AKT-UNION GLANCES. to the delight and edification of us all, for many, many years to come ! Here are kindred atrocities, too, by Gifford ; transcripts of the all-glorious Cattskills ; and a por- trait of Echo Lake, that little charmer, hid away among the White Hills. That terrible humbug, opposite, is ChurcKs Beacon. Don't be caught looking at it. There is neither sense of beauty, nor knowledge of perspective, in the man, who painted those gorgeous clouds, or that purple sea beneath them ! But why dwell on the innumerable monstrosities of this rascally collection ? Such deliberate insults, alike to the eyes and understanding, as Leutze^s Amazon, for instance, and Boutelle's Trout Brook, and Cropsey's Autumnal Scenery, and Rossiter's Beauties, and Heyn^s Niagara, and a host of others ! That charming, sunshiny little thing, in marble, too, under the glass case ; the Infant Ceres, by Palmer, with its pretty border of wheaten stalks, and the poppies braided in the hair ; that, I suppose, wouldn't take, as a present ; wouldn't pay the porterage on it, I dare say. Out upon such a puppy ! The idea, that a pert, flippant, jackanapes, Uke him, who is of no more weight, or significance in the community, than the ART-UNION GLANCES. 147 very cane that he twirls about his fingers, should hare the audacity to speak thus, of such a Grallery as this ! Pah ! ' But keep cool, man, keep" cool. Perhaps you are not appearing to much more advantage, yourseK Your indiscriminate raptures, are they not as offen- sive to true critics, as the sweeping censures of this same ignoramus ? True. I ought to speak with becoming quietness and modesty, upon this subject. I am neither ■ draughtsman nor eolorist, and have but a very limit- ed and vague notion of the rules of art. Still I do profess to have some sensibility in my composition ; and when I find my cheeks glowing,, and my eyes moistening, as I stand, looking at a picture, I cannot be condemned to barren silence. I must and will air my feelings about it. But are there no real feilures, no veritable hum- bugs, in this large assortment 1 III my humble judgment, hardly one.. There are all degrees of merit, certainly, and stages of progress.. Buds, blossoms, golden fruit. There are many paintr ings, perhaps, that might be called promises, rather than performances. But isn't this the very place for them ? There are others, that don't accord ex- actly, with my poor notions. The German land- scapes, for instance, seem to me, to have too much 148 ART-UNION GLANCES. finery about them. The rocks, and flowers, and weeds, are painfully elaborated ; and in their histori- cal pieces, I think they spend too much time and paint, upon unimportant details. Does not even Leutze himself, sometimes expend too much of his giant strength, upon draperies and accessories, and not leave enough for the expressions of his faces ? There are some, too, that appear rather gay, for truth ; that look more like re-unions of rainbows, than faithful copies of the phenomena of nature. There are some stray portraits of dogs, too, and ■ speaking likenesses of lobsters and water-melons, that I cannot get interested in. There are one or two groups of children, that are altogether too stiff, and well-behaved, to chime in with my views. I would have preferred to have seen the little darlings far more dirty, and hearty, and natural ; engaged in investigating puddles, manufacturing mud pies, or some such employment, so congenial to childhood ; and not to have had them locked up, as they are, in silks, and satins, and self-consciousness. There are some few others, too, that, though they catch the eye at first, one would not care to have for parlor companions, or be compelled to look at, the first thing in the morning, from one's pillow. But that, as a whole, there is far, far more to please, and to instruct, in the Gallery, than there is ART-UNION GLANCES. 149 to find fault witli, every intelligent, candid man must admit. For myself, at least, modesty, decency, com- mon gratitude forbid, that I should say otherwise. Ah, if the people who come here, were one quarter part as interesting as the pictures ! But how few, how very few of those, who enter this, or any other Gallery of Art, seem to be worthy recipients of the repast spread out before them ! Some, like the puppy I met at the door, come, merely to air their own importance. It is evident, from the behavior of these empty-headed, would-be patrons, that they consider their presence, alike condescending in them- selves, and complimentary to the collection. And yet, they can hardly tell a Oruickshanks from a Murillo ! Others, in their hopeless ignorance, and profound bewilderment, present an appearance, alike ludicrous and lamentable. They seem to be about as much at home here, as a drove of hogs would be in a drawing-room. Others hurry, and fuss along, catalogue in hand, without the slightest regard to the comfort, or corns, of their neighbors. They have got a job to go through, and the sooner it is over, the better. One individual I actually heard apolo- gizing to his friend, for being present. He was driven in, he said, by a shower. The wretch ! Oth- ers go about, entertaining their female friends, with their loud and flippant criticisms, pcanting out the 150 ART-UNION GLANCES. beauties, with their sticks, or poking the canvass with their umbrellas. Occasionally, a gang of Van- dals bursts in, strangers alike to art and manners, who crack their filthy jokes, and throw their vile tobacco-juice about, without the slightest decency or remorse. Oh, what a mere handful, of all who come hither, are well-bred, courteous, refined ! How few bring with them, tranquil minds, intelligent perceptions, a serene brow, an unclouded temper, a teachable spirit ! How few, who are not tainted with conceit, or affectation, or prejudice ; who can see merit, in what comes into collision with their own theories ; can retract gracefully, their hasty opinions, or in- genuously acknowledge their ignorance. How few, who seem at all alive to the true claims of artists, or to the value and dignity of their calling. Is it extravagant to say, that, of all places on earth, a Picture Gallery is that, where the minor infirmities of poor human nature, are most conspicu- ously and painfully visible ? THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. Ah ! there goes my friend , down to his business. He certainly don't look as if he was taking a willing spirit along with him. No, indeed. Nor is it to be wondered at. Nature never intended him for a lawyer. Tha,t fastidious taste, that sensitive organization, those delicate perceptions of his, con- firmed and directed as they have been by a corres- ponding education, how utterly they unfit him for such employments, and controversies, as lawyers- have to deal with. Those hands of his, are they not far better fitted for the pen of the critic, or the pen- cil of the artist, than for inditing declarations, or sawing the air, in courts ? Are they not almost as much out of place in these latter employments, as they would be, wielding the butcher's knife, or the whip of the cattle-driver ? And what has he been about, probably, this morn- ing, by way of preparation for the labors of the day ? Beading an act of As You Like It, most likely, or a scene or two out of Comus ; or lingering over Hun- tington's Mercy's Dream, or an engraving after Ra- phael, or something of a kindred nature. Perhaps, 152 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. a grand, stirring passage from Webster, or Everett. Something, at all events, far, far, removed in style and spirit, from the tasks that await him at his office. Very probably, he will stop in, on his way down, to hear his friend , discourse eloquent music on his piano. Something grand and gloomy, from Bee- thoven, or sparkling and effervescing, from Rossini : something, at any rate, that will be a most appropri- ate introduction to replications, and subpoenas, and fascinating answers in Chancery ! If, as the prince of critics hath expressed it, a so- lemn strain upon the organ, ought ever to go before the reading of the sublime verse of Milton, pray, what manner of music would most fitly usher in the perusal of those documents which constitute the sum and substance of nine-tenths of the legal controver- sies afloat? In my poor judgment, the only proper prelude to such investigations, would be found in those sounds that emanate from a pen of crowded, hungry hogs. Such a pen, itself, too, doth it not, too well, typify the greater part of our Courts of Justice, and em- phatically, the Marine Court ? What business, indeed, hath so refined, and poeti- cally inclined a man as , in such 51 scene ; the arena of - threepenny wrangles, and ceaseless slang- whanging ; where the air is even fouler than the THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. 153 language ; where the fleas are even thicker than the falsehoods ; where Justice, herself, is compelled to hold her nose, while pronouncing her decrees ! And the people whom he will meet, or overtake, upon his way down, how many of them will come up to his ideal, will harmonize at all with his fastidious notions ? How many Orlandos, and Rosalinds, and Mercutios will he find? How many Bayards, and Sydneys, and Hampdens, and Miltons 1 How many, who •will be either picturesque in costume, graceful in hearing, or courteous in deportment 7 That throng of anxious, restless mortals, hurrying along, under those cylindrical head-pieces, in those most unpoeti- eal of pantaloons, with their hands buried in those many-pocketed overcoats, as they go -to their respec- tive places of business, with all the directness and rapidity of locomotives, do they, do they make an agreeable appeal to the artistic eye ? Do they be- long to the same planet with that group of philoso- phers, which is even now, perhaps, present to this man's fancy, as they are disposed gracefully about the steps of that classic temple, in the immortal school of Athens? And the faces under those bon- nets, and the figures under those wadded plaids, what have they in common with the glorious creatures that dance about the car of Phoebus, in Guido's delicious Aurora ? 154 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. True : but then, what right has this man to ex- pect to 'meet any such apparitions in these bustling streets, this hard-working generation of ours 1 Is he not altogether unreasonable in this matter ? What business hath he to be eternally making these com- parisons ; to be eternally confronting his ideal with the actual ; to be forever extolling and hugging his own dreams and fancies, and disparaging, and turn- ing his back upon the stern, wholesome realities around him ? How much wiser it would be in him, instead of feeding and stimulating this propensity of his, in- stead of thus Cultivating to excess, his sense of the beautiful, and the intellectual, and thus more and more unfitting himself continually, for the station which God has assigned to him, and the duties that belong to it, instead of all this, to take a directly op- posite course ; to bid farewell at once to Dream- Land, with all its fascinating inhabitants, and gor- geous scenery, and come forth manfully, and grapple with the realities of life. No matter how repulsive they may be, to plunge right in, and make the be3t of them ; to abandon, forthwith, the Muses, and the Grraces, and to take right hold of the dirty facts, and complicated rascalities, that always have formed, and ever will form, so large a part of each day's busi- ness. Such arc the arransjements of Providence. THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. 155 Why -waste one's breath in sighing over them, or grumbling about them ? It is your portion to live in an age and land, where Poetry and Art are seconda- ry matters, and where hard, solid, dirty work, is the order of the day. Why not submit, then-, and act accordingly ? Why not play your part faithfully, as set down for you in the Programme of the Great Disposer ? Look things, and men, fairly in the face. Try to mend them, but don't run away from them ; don't be forever taking refuge from them, in your own dainty visions. The life that this man so greatly affects, which he would so gladly exchange for his present, unpalatable one, what is it, after all, but one of literary epicur- ism ? There is nothing gross, or brutal about it ; nay, much that is engaging and fascinating, and that makes its votary so. But is it not, neverthe- less, an unmanly backing-out of the wholesome re- sponsibilities, the needful discipline of existence? The Lord never meant that we should spend our days lingering over pictures, or extracting the sweets stored away in the verses of poets, or hanging upon the accents of orators, or listening to dainty music, or 'neglecting the solid structures of earth for our own dreamy air-castles. No, not even the fair face of Nature, or the bewildering beauty of woman, must be gazed at too long or fondly ; must take us from 156 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. our wholesome tasks. These things are life's com- forts, consolations, not its duties. Flowers are beau- tiful, but oh, the homely, precious grain must first be secured, with toil and sweat, before we are at liberty to dwell upon their beauties, and see God's goodness shining through them. To hold them eternally under our noses, or to make our beds of them, is to be Sy- barites, not men. Sunsets are beautiful, but we must not lose ourselves in them. Nay, hath not the Lord, in his wisdom, deferred their beauties till the day's work is done ? Such phenomena, at noontide, would only be diverting us from our appropriate tasks. Work, work, work. Such, indeed is, and has been the order of the day, since the first day dawned on earth. Let no man seek to dodge it, or to shirk out of it. No, you may not stop to prattle, even with Rosalind herself, or to philosophize with liamlet, or to gaze at Madonnas, or to moralize in gardens of roses, when there is such a world of needful labor to be done ; such an incessant warfare to be waged with filth, and want, and wickedness. Soniehody has got to do all these things, which, if left undone, would make our planet utterly abominable, and untenant- able, before another moon hove in sight. So, fall in, my dear fellow, fall into the ranks cheer- fully. Remove thjbt unbecoming cloud from that THE FASTIDIOirs M iN. 15T handsome face of yours, and take your proper place in the great army of doers. Try to be reconciled to your legal tasks. Try to discover hidden treasures in those documents with which you are daily called to deal; It is true, that the hog-latin in which they abound, differeth largely from the language of Ci- cero's Discourses, or Horace's Odes. It is true, that the Marine Court, and the Court of Common Pleas, do not vividly recall the Areopagus, or the stately Roman Senate. But if far homelier, and fil- thier, may they not be also, far honester places ? May not more real justice be rendered, more en- lightened principles be enforced in them, than were ever dreamed of in those showy, picturesque tribu- nals of old ? Try to take conjfort in that thought. But seriously, is there not, after all, a great deal more of P.oetry, and Romance, in this working-day age and nation of ours, than they have credit for ? Has not the workshop its poetical side ? Is there no latent poetry in Steam ? Think of the infinitely varied, the incredible labors, which it is incessantly performing in the service of man ; and, above all, of the flood of intellectual light which it is continually shedding upon the world. Did I not, through its agency, get, this very morning, for one poor penny, a most generous meal of wholesome, mental food? There was a speech by Kossuth, another by Web- 158 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. Stef, telegraphic despatches from all the corners of the land, editorials, criticism, poetry, advertisements, information on all sorts of subjects, thinking-mate- rials for a whole twelvemonth ? And all this, for one solitary cent. Pray, wljat sort of an intellec- tual repast could a contemporary of Socrates have got, for his obolus, or a fellow-citizen of Cicero, for his Sestertius ? Is there not something grand, and inspiring, in the contemplation of the results, that must grow out of all these resources and facilities ? Is there noth- ing poetical in these wonder-working telegraphs of ours ? If the doings of that glorious knight-errant, Hercules, and the exploits of more recent Paladins, have won such honors, at the Muses' hands, shall not the miracles of Lightning have their poet ? Is not Fame far better worth having, now, that Steam and Lightning are her ministers ? Now, she can send the winged words of her orators, half across the planet, before they have even reached their pero- rations ; and, in a little week, almost, all the nations of the earth, have become, as it were, their audience. How was it, in the days of Demosthenes ? What sort of a hearing had he, in comparison ? Isn't it the merest luck in the world, too, that any fragments of his wonderful talk, have escaped the jaws of Time? Even Homer's verse, . had it not a hard struggle, to THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. 159 keep out of the elutcliea of Oblivion? But now, ■what conceivable combination of circumstances, short of the great final conflagration, could deprive us of Shakspeare or Milton? Who Tvill not sing the praises, then, of Steam and Lightning, that, in addi- tion to their world of more humble labors, are thus the great distributors and perpetuators of the goodly fruits of genius? Again, I would ask, have the labors of Hercules received their epics, and will the Muses begrudge a poor sonnet, even, to the hundred- fold mightier labors of these great high-priestS of their temple ? Is there nothing poetical in all these great enter- prises, these associated energies, about us? this grand battle, with Time and Space, that we are fighting ; this invasion of the wilderness ; this-gal- lant crusade against ignorance and superstition ; this going forth to grapple with the elements, in their own dens ? Surely, the planet is more interesting and entertaining, now, than ever, when we know so much more of its resources and attributes, of its own history, as written by itself, and of its true bearings in the skies. More romantic and poetical, too, than ever. Science is the ally, not the enemy, of Poetry. Her throne is founded, not on ignorance and degra- dation, like the" Papal, but on knowledge. Every new truth is a new weapon, in the poet's hands. 160 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. Tes, the world is far better wortli living in, in every way, than ever it was. There is far more in it, to excite the imagination, arouse the zeal, expand the soul of man, than ever. This town of ours, is an altogether more desirable residence, to-day, for a man of thought, or action, than Rome and Athens were, in the height of their splendor. We are a stronger, wiser, more intelligent, and, by all odds, more respectable set of fellows. We look through most powerful telescopes, at these same worthies of old. Why, the whole Peloponnesus might have been stowed away in New-Jersey, and all Attica was not so large as Long-Island. A couple of our steam- frigates could have annihilated, in a few hours, the combined Persian and Grrecian fleets, at Salamis. Leonidas fought handsomely, at Thermopylae ; but suppose old Zack had been in possession, there, and Capt. Bragg with him, administering the grape ; does any man believe, that Xerxes would have ever got -through? And which is the greater evidence of human skill and power — the glorious Parthenon itself, or a Collins' steamer 1 The most bigoted vo- tary of antiquity must confess, that the latter would bear away the palm. They certainly did beat us, though, in costume ! True ; but these same unpicturesque fellow-citi- zens of ours, who are by no means interesting ob- THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. 161 jects, on canvas, either as single figures, or in groups, I repeat it, and insist upon it, carry, nevertheless, much bigger heads, under their shocking-looking hats, than their antique brethren could boast of; carry much bigger, warmer hearts, too, under those frightfully useful-looking sacks and cut-aways. They think far less of their pockets, and their palates, and are far more alive to noble thoughts, and grand ideas. If they have not the same keen perception of the beautiful, they have much clearer notions of truth and justice. Yes, the odds are altogether on the side of us moderns. In faith, in knowledge, in power, in all the useful arts of life, we are immeasurably superior ; and shall we not yet, gain the victory over old Greece herself, in all that appertains unto the beau- tiful ? Meanwhile, the special tasks assigned to this generation, in our part of the planet, certainly do savor far more of the utile, than of the dulce. But what folly, to grumble about it. How much wiser, to fall in with the spirit of the age, than to»array one's self in hopeless opposition to it. I can't help thinking, after all, that if would take this view of the matter — would cease cultivating those fastidious tastes of his^would boldly turn his back upon those dainty books, and pictures, and fancies, and cloud-castles of his, for a while, and 162 THE FASTIDIOUS MAN. plunge, with a *ill, right into the thickest of the legal fight, he'd not only, in time, reveal a first-rate lawyer to the community, but would become a far healthier, heartier, happier man. Oh Lord ! if I had kept On, a little longer, I should have perpetrated a regular sermon ; a narcotic, of the first water. Let me rush unto the Finis. I will conclude my service, by singing unto my- self, fhejirst and sixth verses of Longfellow's Psalm of Life. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead, that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant, Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act — act in the living Present — Heart within, and God o'erhead ! SERMON TO THE FISHES. The Whimsictili had their usual meeting, last evening. There was no dehate. Whether the mem- bers were too amiable, or too indolent, to discuss the subject announced, it might be dangerous to say, in this world of mixed motives, and extraordinary men- tal phenomena. Mystifico then read the following document^ being, as he remarked, a translation made by him, while at Padua, of a part of St. Anthony's celebrated Sermon to the Fishes. The original is preserved, though in a sadly mutilated state, in the library of the University there, the venerable teeper of wijiich, kindly gave M. access to it. The translation, it will be seen, only covers that part of the Saint's remarks, that were addressed to the oyster portion of his au- dience. How wonderfully have his prophecies been fulfilled ! " And now. Oh oysters, a word of comfort, and advice, to you. You, certainly, at first blush, do seem to be an uncouth, ill-favored, miserable, bed- ridden set of creatures ; condemned to inactive and inglorious lives. But have you not, candidly, now, 164 SERMON TO THE FISHES. have you not your appropriate pleasures and conso- lations ? That principle of compensation, which is so conspicuous in all the other dealings of Provi- dence, is it not equally to be seen, in your case ? What baneful thing, indeed, have we from Heaven, without its corresponding antidote ? Doth not the same Power, that visits us with rats and mice, for instance, also send us efficient terriers, and able mousers ? And is it not i/our especial privilege, in return for your many deprivations, that you have a far wider place, than all your co-tenants of the wa- ter, in the affections of Man — creation's omnivorous lord 1 Surely, surely, that is glory enough, for any reasonable fish ! Give not way, then, to idle repinings, and misera- ble envyings. Envy not the whale his strength, nor the dolphin his splendor, nor the sword-fish his pene- tration, nor the shark his unfailing appetite, nor the flying-fish his peculiar privileges, nor the trout his spangles, nor the gold-fish his delicate beauty, nor the clam his smooth outside, nor the lobster his com- plicated arrangements. Ye are far, far before them all, in the hearts, alike of the poet and the epicure. Is it not so ? Have not your praises been sung al- ready, in the choicest verse 1 Have you not figured conspicuously, in imperial banquets, and been served up by imperial cooks, surrounded by Tyrian purple, SERMON TO THE PISHES. 165 and fine linen, and gay garlands, and the choicest Falernian ? But, oh, Oysters, a far grander and more glorious future, is in store for you ! Yes, even now, with prophetic , gaze, do I behold it, centuries before it Cometh. In that great western world, hereafter to be revealed to mortals, through the genius, and the labors, of a gifted son of our own dear land ; that world, whose amazing growth and development, in all the arts and ways of life, is destined far to out- strip all, that this old continent of ours, and its neighbors, have ever witnessed ; there, Oysters, is it decreed, that ye shall play a part, more lofty and conspicuous, than ye did, even, in the days of Helio- gabalus himself ! Even now, do I hear the clarion- notes of Fame, as she bloweth through her trumpet, those magic words, Tuckahoe, Pine Island, York Banker, Shrewsbury, Chingarora ! Yes, under these euphonious appellations, shall ye be known, and honored, as ye lie, scattered over all the bays, and sounds, and creeks, and i-ivers, of that wonderful land ! Prepared in infinitely various styles, by cooks of all climes and colors, ye shall constitute the crowning ornament of civic feasts and solemn sup- pers. Ye shall be a bond of union, to literary and scientific societies. Ye shall be an unfailing accom- paniment of the legislation of Common Councils, and 166 SERMON TO THE FISHES. an essential feature in the annual elections of Trus- tees and Directors ! Ye shall glide gently down the throat of beauty, at brilliant balls, and shall cause the pleasantest kind of jaw-wagging; at the gatherings of the learned ! But, above all, there shall arise in your' midst, a mighty man ; the great Patriarch of oyster-openers of America, and he shall be called Downing. His fame shall be spread abroad among the nations. Oh, what countless legions of you, will that man cleave asunder ; and with what wicked glee, will he proceed to bake, and boil, and broil, and stew, and fry, and scollop, and pot, and pickle ye, and send ye off, in jars, and jugs, and kegs, and cannisters, to all the corners of the earth ! Downing' s Pickled Oysters ! In what stately metropolis of earth's continents, nay, in what smallest, and obscurest of her islands, will not their praises be sung ? He shall win a name, as a Pickler, as far before that of Apicius, as the great empire of America, shall transcend that of Rome. He shall " Here, said Mystifico, a frightful hiatus in the original, brought my labors to an untimely close. — Possibly old Father Time himself, mistook the man- uscript for an oyster. At any rate, he has made sad havoc with it. M.'s earnest, truthful manner, together with the SERMON TO THE PISHES. 167 intrinsically interesting nature of the subject, pro- duced a decided impression upon us. No comments were elicited, however ; though some queer looks might have been noticed, out of the corners of more than one pair of eyes present. Quizzicb then read the following TRIBUTE TO THE TOMATO. Let others praise the luscious pear, The hlushiag peach, the chefry rare, Or worship at the melon's shrine ; Or glorify the nectarine. To thee, great plant, my glad muse brings The choicest music of her strings ; Who may'st the honors claim, with truth, Of Fruit and Vegetable both. Blest be the gentle botanist, Who first in woody wilderness. Thy ruddy beauty did espy, And rescue from obscurity. Apple of Love ! and fondly loved, By wisest stomachs, most approved At daintiest feasts, a welcome guest To nicest dishes, adding zest. Dear to the graminivorous, Is delicate Asparagus : Nor do the sweet and tender Peas Judicious palates fail to please. 168 SERMON TO THE FISHES, Spinach, when crisp, and dressed with cream, Falls little short of ' Love's young Dream :' The Egg-Plant, and the Salsify, We miist applaud, or falsify. Butthou art dearer, daintier far; The market's pride, the kitchen's star ; Or crude, or stewed, with hoiled, or roast. The stomach's joy, the table's boast. In all thy phases, all thy forms, Thou still revealest changing charms ; Alike in Catsup, Soup, and Salad, Thou claim'st the Muse's bravest ballad. And as the lover proudly pays His ardent vows, in fervent lays. So I to thee, this tribute, ah, too Fondly loved, adored Tomato ! At the close of this Pindaric outburst, Scroggins, . rather ill-naturedly, as I thought, remarked that the pleasure which the lines had afiforded him, was a good deal marred by the feeling that they were a palpable imitation, (almost amounting to plagiarism,) of the Ancient Mariner. DobbinSj on the contrary, thought he saw quite a devotional spirit in them. He hoped Q. would try to get them inserted in some forthcoming edition of Dwight's or Dobell's Hymns. Wiggins said they reminded him most forcibly SERMON TO THE FISHES. 169 of a very grand, and elaborate passage that he had read, that very morning, in the Excursion. The sneering scamps ! There certainly is, though, more good feeling, than poetic fervor, in the verses ; and perhaps, a little touch, vfithal, just the merest bit in the world, of the humor of Charles Lamb. The man who went so crazy about roast pig, and who expressed himself so frantically on the subject of tobacco, would be very apt, I think, to recognize somewhat of a kindred spirit in the writer of these same stanzas. The Society then adjourned, to carry out, as far as in them lay, the further conversion of St. Anto- ny's Oyster-Prophecies into History. INFIRM TEMPER OF WIGGINS. Poor Wiggins ! I found him at it again, this morning, -worse than ever. He was actually kick- ing his hat around the room, when I entered. I ac- costed him. " Don't say a wor J to me. Sit down. Sit down. I must, and will have the frolic out." A queer frolic, I thought. I obeyed, however, in silence. He continued his labors, and rode circuit, in this furious style, some half dozen times, before finally sitting down in his easy chair. " Ah," said he, " I feel relieved, tranquillized." " I'm glad to hear it ; but really, I should think you might find some more dignified, and rational mode of recovering your equilibrium. Look at that hat. What would the servants say 1 What would a stranger think, who should witness such an abomi- nable manifestation?" " Oh," said he, " if you only knew what comfort that operation yielded me, you wouldn't talk so. Not that I bear the hat any malice. But that tail- or ; that lying, swindling, infamous tailor. Oh, why did Adam fall 1 How could he have been such a INFIRM TEMPER OF WIGGINS. 171 fool, as to take that cursed bite out of ttat infernal pippin? Don't reply. Don't reply. I could kick this villain, now, from Dan to Beersheba. It makes me positively unhappy, to think, that I may possibly be taken sick and die, without having an opportunity of going down to that scoundrel's shop, and giving him a glorious bit of my mind." I saw that any attempt to put in my oar, under the circumstances, would be a poor speculation. So I quietly and hastily beat a retreat Unfortunate Wiggins ! And yet, how many, many of us are there, who are riding, more or less fast and furiously, in the same troop? Whose tenipers are at the mercy of just such little, contemptible desa- grSmens, as were turning him, this morning, into an active volcano ! They say the world is mending rapidly in every way. It may be so. I must confess, however, that the more I see of my own wicked heart, and of the exhibitions of character, got up by my neighbors, the less disposed am I to echo the statement. It really seems to me as if Satan had his hands about as full of business as ever he had. Yes, as much as he can well stagger under, amazingly energetic and active as we all know him to be. I can't help thinking that he has far more clerks in his pay to-day, than he had at any period of the antediluvian era. Nay, were 172 INFIRM TEMPER OF WIGGINS. another Flood to commence to-morrow, might it not be more difficult to pick out the second Noah, than it was the first ? I know I shall he called a slanderer, and a vilifier, for presuming to speak thus of this magnificent 19th century of burs. But with all its big words, and lofty pretensions, will its conduct really bear any more searching inspection than that of its predeces- sors ? Glorious are its watchwords ; Order, Peace, Progress ; but those, in whose mouths they figure most, do they fight gloriously for them ? or rather, do they not mainly apply them to the outward, mate- rial interests of society, and not to the life within? In the same spirit, we call this the Great Age of In- ternal Improvements. But those far more essential internal improvements, that appertain unto the cha- racter, that have to deal with the temper, and the conscience, are they going ahead so very fast ? Are we multiplying our communications with Heaven ? Are we sending more prayers thither, and getting more supplies of grace and goodness in return 1 Are we transacting one whit more business with the an- gels, than our forefathers did ? I doubt it. I may be very unfortunate in my acquaintances. There certainly are very, very few of them, whom I would be willing to trust with revolvers ; very, very few, who can bear anything like contradiction, or op- INFIRM TEMPER OF WIGGINS. 173 position ; yfho are willing to have their ■whims, and notions interfered with ; who can even hear the tem- perate expression of adverse opinions, with patience ; who are not easily provoked into snarling, and blas- pheming, and shaking fists, and slamming doors, and snapping off noses, and such like dignified, credita- ble exhibitions. Very, very few, who do not prefer pudding to principle ; warm beds, and late break- fasts to early-rising, and seasonable meals ; who do not decidedly prefer cracking jokes over good Madei- ra, to going out on a pauper-hunting expedition. A wonderfully small portion of the Astor House would be required to lodge them all comfortably ! And of that small, and chosen band, ala,s, / am not one. I may as well confess it. No such truly re- spectable person, nor even any decent approach thereto, is it my privilege or comfort to gaze upon, while shaving ! FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. Ah dear ! The last leaf of the last rose of that sweet bouquet, that my sweeter little coz gave me, has fallen ; and nought remains but a shrivelled and discolored mass, which is only fit to be thrown into the highway, there to be trampled under the hoofs of horses, or ransacked by the snouts of filthy swine ! Well ; is it not all right ? Poor things, they had their day ; their little day of beauty, and of fra- grance, and they are ofi'. They fulfilled their desti- ny. They dehghted the eye. They regaled the nose. They told their story prettily. They con- veyed their sentiment charmingly. They had their moral uses, too, for they helped strengthen that bond of love which should ever bind kindred together. Ah, if we all played our parts as faithfully in this world, what a happy one it would be ! But to think that the fair eyes that gazed upon them, the fair hands that gathered them, have got to take the same dreary road. And that I, the whim- sical, irritable recipient of them, must do likewise ; and that all, who are now moving about the earth, be they creeping babes, or romping children, or gliding FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. 175 maidens, or tottering old men, are on tlie same sad ■way to dusty death ! Oh, is it not frightful, to think of the incessant, the infinitely varied dishes, that are thus eternally served up, at the ever-spread table of those grim gourmands, those merciless epicures, the Avorms ! But -why take this gloomy view of the subject? Would you have it otherwise ? Is'nt this the best arrangement, after all, for our own happiness ? Who would be willing to see out his second century on earth, if he could, even, with all his faculties unim- paired, the comforts of life all secured to him, and an unfailing circle of friends, into the bargain? No man. Long before his time came, he would be eager, anxious, crazy to be off. Why shouldn't he ? What should keep him ? The only decent excuse for stay- ing, wo.uld be a wish to continue his labors of love to his brethren. And when has the man appeared on the planet, so righteous that he could honestly urge such a plea, or the hypocrite, so unblushing, that he would have the face to allege it ? And as to the other inducements, the pleasures, pomps, and vani- ties of life, one century is quite enough to sift them in, and to feel their unsatisfactory hoUowness. ' The toys oi ambition, what are they, after all, but a mere folio edition, as it were, of those of the nursery ? — ■ Knowledge, to be sure, remains ; but its treasures. 176 FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. SO far as they are within mortal grasp, would have been secured long ere then ; while those others, of which Death keeps the keys, would have been teaz- ing, more and more, each day, our impatient curiosi- ty. Who will deny this ? Surely, a hundred years' faithful study would bring all earth's sciences at our feet. As with the languages, so with them; the thorough knowledge of some three or four, would make the subjugation of all the rest, comparative child's play. And thus, our very acquisitions would, long ere our lease had expired, have made us all the more restless, and impatient for our flight. This is all very well, you say ; and a delightful thing it would be, if we could take that^same flight, bodily, to some other planet. But as for that horri- ble Mwe^er-land journey, ugh, there's no getting re- conciled to it. This being boxed up, and nailed down, and put away, with the comfortable conviction that the invading worms are sure to overhaul you at last ; you, and your kindred ; to think that the eyes you have so loved to gaze on, the lips, upon whose accents you have hung so fondly, should be thus de- secrated, thus brutally devoured ; there is no getting over it, or round it. These a re the things that ma.ke us shudder so, and shiver, that make us hang on so tenaciously to " earth, and earth-born jars !" You are wrong again, my dear boy. You have no FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. 177 right to talk, or feel thus. Wha,t, take this body away -with us to the other world? Oh, no. We want something a great deal better in every way, and more worthy of the glorious sphere of action that awaits us ; a vision more telescopic, hearing more acute ; all our faculties more penetrating, and more serviceable. This ineiEcient, unseemly, unsa- vory old body, why it would be aS much out of place in the new and lofty scenes, in which we are to ap- pear, as Cinderella's old kitchen dress would have been at the ball. No, ho. Depend upon it, the pre- sent arrangements are altogether the wisest, and the kindest for us, and the sooner we are reconciled to them the better. It is this very perishableness, indeed, that gives half their zest to the joys of earth. The wife of one's bosom, the children that frolic about one's fire- side, could we love them as we do, but for the fear and dread that are forever mingling with that love ; the ever-present sense of the frail nature of the tie that holds us together, that any moment, any paltry casualty may snap asunder? Were it otherwise, where would all these happy couples, these fond pa- rents, these good children be, at the end of a little twelvemonth? Alas, for poor human nature, who does not feel that love would be a sad loser, by any change of dispensation ? Were an angel to appear 178 FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. to-morrow, and announce, by authority from Heaven, that for the next five years there should be no sepa- rations whatever in the existing families of earth, what would be the result ? Unwise and wicked as such conduct would be, yet dare any candid man or woman deny that we should have a hundred-fold greater amount of heart-burnings, jarrings, bicker- ings, wranglings, than will probably come off under the present arrangements ? Those same flowers, too, that I was so disposed to bewail, and grow sentimental over ; suppose they had' been of wax, or of feathers ; gifts that they were, would they not soon have degenerated into downright impertinences ? Would I not have been compelled, in mere self-defense, to have stowed them away in some dark corner or other ? To be sure, there might have been other reasons for such a course. There is an intrinsic atrocity about all wax-work. There is no living with it, either in the shape of flow- er, fruit, or hero. It makes me shudder, even now, to think of a waxen libel on Zachary Taylor, that I saw in a menagerie yesterday. Pretty notions of Art, and of Patriotism, must the wretch have had who perpetrated it. Were I its proprietor, it should see the bottom of our noble bay before sunset. I dare say the very sturgeons themselves, would put to sea in their fright ! That hideous witch of Endor, too, FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. 179 in the Museum ! How many sleepless nights did that infamous hag of wax cost me, when a child. Out upon it, in all its manifestations ! It is only fit to be banged about in dolls by naughty girls. But had this love-token, this pretty mingling of buds and roses, been an imitation of any kind, the result would -have been the same. The eye would soon have wearied of them. The fraud would have been resented, and the miserable pretenders would have been brushed aside in disgust. But the swest, fugitive, perishing originals, be they flowers, or their , fair gatherers, they know' too well, alas, -the way to, these same wayward hearts of ours ! The very Constitution of our country ; could we love it, could we fight for it, but for the continual- ly recurring feeling of its frail, perishing nature? What man would raise a finger in its defense, did he not know, ay, and take comfort in the knowledge, that it must be overtaken, at last, by decay and dis- solution? Esto perpetua is a mere rhetorical em- bellishment, not the language of the heart. Let it have a thousand years, if you will, of wise and bene- ficent action, but let it not fondly seek to escape those elements of corruption, and of death, that must and will inhere in all human things. That miniature cobweb, hung with dew-drops, that looked so beautifully as it lay spread out upon th^ 180 FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. boxen border, in the garden, this morning, with its strings of fairy pearls and diamonds ; where would its beauty have been, had it remained there all day ? Was it not the very feeling that the first warm glance of the sun would melt it into air, that gave it half its lustre ? And so with all other things under that sun, be they passions, or the objects of them. Eternal love, unfading joy, unalterable constancy ! These phrases sound charmingly, do they not, from the lips of Ro- meo and Juliet ; but suppose these same devoted lovers had been spared to a good old age ; had kept company together for half a century or so, how would matters have probably stood with them then ? With •those ardent Italian temperaments of theirs ; with that liquid language, too, which affords such amazing facilities for scolding and objurgation, as well as for love-prattle ; with those unpleasant reminiscences of hereditary feuds, that willy nilly would come up oc- casionally to annoy them ; can there be a.ny doubt, that, had they lived, they woul.d have had their full proportion of family jars ? Oh, it was far better for all parties that things turned out just as they did ; for the lovers, poet, readers. To be sure, Juliet was cheated out of a baker's dozen or so, of little Mon- tagues, and the name of Romeo is not to be found in the pages of the Verona Directory of that period ; FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. 181 but oh, will it not live in endless glory on the unfad- ing page of Shakspeare ? The more one dwells upon it, the more anomalous, the more monstrous does this idea of running away from death appear. Who, indeed, would give up the glorious privilege of dying ? Who would consent to remain here, a perpetual prisoner in this insignifi- cant corner of the universe? What would you think of a man who should wilfully persist in lock- ing himself up all his days in Berghen or Commu- nipaw, without paying a solitary visit, nay, without casting a single glance across the Bay at this great metropolis of ours ? It is, indeed, difficult to conceive of a being so unenterprising. But, to take a case a little more within the compass of probability, what sort of respect could you have for the individual, who, having means and leisure, and a lurking desire withal, to visit the Old World, should yet allow him- self to be cheated out of the privilege by the paltry dread of sea-sickness ? And are we not just as pu- sillanimous, whom the miserable fear of death makes hug our chains, and cling to earth as we do, and ig- nobly turn our backs upon the " all hail hereafter ?" No, no. Defraud me not of my mortality. Let me go through the regular course prescribed for man. Let me welcome, as they come, the grey hairs, and the advancing years. Let my eyes grow 182 FUGITIVE THOUGHTS. dim, and my knees fail me. Let me totter, and fall, at last, and go down to my grave. Let my flesh be- come a banquet for worms, and my bones subside into tbe dust from which they sprang. Let me play out the play, epilogue and, all, to the very letter. Let me not be cheated out of any of the genuine, legiti- mate experiences of life. How ungenerous, too, how contemptible in me, who make a hearty, well-varied meal each day, to begrudge the worms their portion at the appointed season ! Or if death come somewhat out of season ; if he anticipate his mission by a few years ; if he surprise me in the noontide of life, in the midst of all its busy plans, and high hopes, and warm affections, still let me not wilfully misinterpret and pervert the spirit of that mission. Why treat the gracious mes- senger, a;s if he were some paltry bailifi'? Why dress him up in grotesque terrors ? Why, why make a scarecrow, bugbear, enemy of him, whom God de- signed as, at once, our Teacher, Guide, and Friend ? FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. My impulsive friend and hobby-strider, called to see me, to-day. The nag wHcb he was straddling, on this particular occasion, and, of course, riding vehemently, was Mesmerism. Nine-tenths of his discourse, I confess, was little better than so much Chaldee, to me ; and of the other tenth, pre- cious little was in harmony with my humble, old- fashioned notions. I could not, for the life of me, see, for instance, how any man could, by the mere exercise of his will, aided by a few picturesque manipulations, magically convert a sick young woman, most penuriously en- dowed, when in the normal state, with either facts or ideas, into a perfect, (pro-tempore,) she-Miltoti ; how he could make her see, out of the back of her head, a hundred-fold more and greater sights, than Solomon, or Shakspeare, could ever see, out of the front of his ; or how he could make her hold friendly and familiar chats, with individuals, not merely in other planets of our own system, but residents of other systems. 184 FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDEUS. All this, however, says, was done, bona- fide, and most handsomely, last night ; and had I been with him, to see it, my skepticism would have been completely disarmed. This certainly is glorious news, and I ought to avail myself, forthwith, of my privileges. If this, more than royal road, this magnificent short cut, to knowledge, really exists, let's make the most of it. Let me see. I have been long lamenting my shame- ful ignorance of Paradise Lost ; but I'll have pos- session, before the week's out. At the same time, I'll have waved into me, the contents of some other volumes, which I shall certainly never master, ■ in any other way ; videlicet, the Mecanique Celeste, Bowditch's Practical Navigator, including the tables of logarithms, Edwards on the Will, Bayle's Dic- tionary in ten folios, and the Encyclopsedia Britan- nica in thirty ditto. And what is more, I shall in- sist upon our venerable negro-waiter's accompanying me, and being made a participator in the same intel- lectual repast. He has no right to be so indifferent about his spiritual progress. If the truth were known, I am afraid the old fellow would prefer, this moment, having a colossal stack of buckwheat cakes, making its way to his stomach, to the possession of all the knowledge extant, in his knowledge-box. Why, the miracles of old, were trifles, compared PLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. 185 ■witli these wonders of Clairvoyance. What was the conversion of water into wine, alongside of this conversion of an idiot into an admirable Crichton ? What, the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, to this magical multiplication of ideas ? Where are we going to ^top ? To hear talk, you would suppose, that the day was not far distant, when we should be put in communication, hodily, as well as spiritually, with all the stars around us ; he almost said, in as many words, that as we had already had a World's Fair, he hoped to live to see a Universe Fair, with its Crystal Palace, in Jupiter or Saturn, wherein would be deposited the contributions of all the planets of our own, and the adjoining systems. So completely carried away is he, with this subject ! Well, well ; through what different spectacles will he be looking at it, some two months hence. Very likely, by that time, he will have dropped it alto- gether ; dropped it, in the very act of picking up something else, equally showy, and equally delusive. What, heaven only knows. It may be, a patriot, from abroad ; it may be, a pill, at our own doors. In either case, his ardor will be the same ; his six weeks' song of praise, as loud and fervent, as the pEean he is now chanting, in honor of Mesmerism. About this time last season, he was riding the hobby of Peace, with his customary ardor and velo- 186 FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. city. There was a Peace Congress in Europe, at the time. What an event ! Oh, what an era in human afiairs, was to begin from that day ! Wars, and rumors of wars, were to be no more. The reign of good will had fairly commenced, at last. All the belligerent propensities of human nature, were straightway to be eradicated. Babies were no longer to kick, or squall, in nurseries. Boys were no longer to bark, or bite, in school, or out of school. Instead of encouraging, and egging on, as heretofore, pug- nacious cats and dogs, to sanguinary encounters, they were to do all that in them lay, to separate them. ' Youngsters were no longer to cry aloud for drums, or trumpets, for miniature muskets, or field- pieces ; nay, if they should encounter any stray tin soldiers in their toy-boxes, they were to bring them, with an air of -dignified rebuke, to their respective mothers. " Sonorous metal" was no longer to "blow martial sounds." Brass bands were to become cu- riosities in museums. Powder was henceforth to be used only for blasting ; occasionally, perhaps, and with unfeigned reluctance, to be discharged at casual deer, or ducks, but never, never again, to enter into the arguments of nations. All the words that apper- tained unto war, were to be promptly extirpated from the language, and our Dictionaries be thereby redu- ced, by at least a fourth, in their dimensions. Othello's FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. 187 farewell, once so touching, -was soon to lose all its pathos and beauty. Nay, even those, once grand and spirit-stirring verses, in the last chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, -wherein we are counselled to put on the whole armor of Grod, were speedily to become empty, and unmeaning sounds ! Such were a/ew of the results, that, according to this enthusiast, were so soon to be evolved, (I think that was the word,) by the aforesaid Peace Congress. Unfortunately for him, a sanguinary rev^olution or two, in Europe, and some half-dozen wars, in the more obscure parts of the planet, compelled him to descend from his Peace-nag, most precipitately. What a ride he took, too, on the good steed. Chlo- roform ! What wonderful things were it, and Ether, to do, between them. Good bye, now, to all pain, in amputations. Farewell forever to the pangs of child- birth. And as to the extraction of grinders, which, once, stout men used to look Upon with dread, and dodge, up to the very last moment, why, that was to become a positive luxury ; the very children, whom formerly, nothing but the most unmitigated bribery, and corruption, could bring within sight of the den- tist's chamber of terrors, would henceforth clamor for their turns ! What a world-wide difference, alas, as usual, be- tween the manifesto, and the facts. Even with these 188 . FLIGHTS OP HOBBY-STRIDERS. mighty agents, in full blast, the chopping off of legs is hardly more of a treat, to the patient, than the loss of them is a comfort. The Scripture maledic- tion, as to child-bearing, will not he thus unceremo- niously and summarily disposed of: worse than all, the sensations, which these vaunted pain-annihilators so often bring in their train, are incomparably more distressing than those which they supplant. For one, I would prefer having fifty sets of teeth, and all molars at that; wrenched out of my head, to a repeti- tion of those horrible feelings to which a moderate dose of Chloroform subjected me, for a whole fortnight. But the steed which he bringest oftenest, from the stall, and on which he maketh his longest, swiftest journeys, is that extraordinary charger. Socialism. That is the charmer^ that is yet to turn earth into a Paradise. He insists upon it, that all labor is alike palatable, and attractive, and honorable, and instructive ; that we all love it, were we honest enough to say so, in all its varieties. Nothing is wanting, but that some grand and comprehensive scheme of work ^ (the outlines of which, he himself could furnish, if desired) should be fairly presented to the world ; its own irresistible attractions would not fail, Ihefti, to take captive the understandings and affections of men ; and from that hour, the great pro- blem of Social regeneration might be considered FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. 189 solved. That solution may not come, in his day ; his children, he thinks, most assuredly, will behold it. Yes, they will see that blessed day, when every mother's son will perform, with the same Unabated relish, and the same signal success, at least twenty dififerent kinds of work, between the rising and the setting of the sun. A man will begin the day, for instance, as a gardener ; from 8 to 9, he will do duty as a bricklayer ; from 9 to 10, as a lawyer ; from 10 to 11, as a baker ; from 11 to 12, as a clergyman ; from 12 to 1, as an auctioneer. And so with the post-meridian arrangements. After refreshing his interior, with a temperate, but eminently social and instructive dinner, he will resume his labors of love, in the capacity of tailor ; from 2 to 3, he will walk or ride circuit, as doctor ; from 3 to 4, he will be civil engineer ; from 4 to 6, tinker ; from 5 to 6, his- torical painter ; from 6 to 7, blacksmith ; from 7 to 8, author ; from 8 to 9, one of a dancing group, at some grand ball, in some majestic social edifice ; from 9 to 10, an astronomer ; from 10 to 11, a spirited driver of one of those vehicles, wherein is conveyed away a portion of that filth, which every community, be it wise or foolish, be it made up of sages or of savages, must perforce accumulate. After going through this - lovely variety, he will then, with cool, clear head, and tranquil conscience, proceed to jump into that 190 PLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDEES. bed, which his own skilful, versatile hands have made ! In that blessed day, all the unjust distinctions, the absurd prejudices, the monstrous inequalities, that now deface and degrade society, will have ceas- ed ; the peer and the peasant will, then, be the cheer- ful occupants of the same platform ; will chant their labor-songs together ; and cheer each other's hearts with sparkling bon-^nots ; will be continually ex- changing kind words, and friendly offices, from " dawn till dewy eve." How all the arts, and crafts of life, too, will be gainers, by this ceaseless shifting, and commingling of tasks. "Will it not be charming, to see the same individual, who was composing some delicious landscape, in the morning, duly mounted on his ladder, in the afternoon, while giving a new coat of paint to some grand social barn or out-house ; to see the same man, who, before dinner, was the most discreet of law-makers, figuring, after dinner, as the most magnificent of kettle-menders ! To be- hold the bride, too, arrayed in lace of her own weav- ing ; and the belle refreshing herself, after the labors of the Polka, with an ice, the cream whereof was contributed by those cows, which her own lovely fingers daily milk ! Blessed, blessed day, indeed ; and nearer at hand, perhaps, than even the sanguine himself, FLIGHTS OP HOBBY-STRIDERS. 191 supposes ! Who, indeed, would venture to oppose the progress of a scheme, so glorious, and so practi- cable ; so in harmony with all Grpd's dealings with his creatures, with all the dearest instincts of our hearts ! Where is the miserable sophist to be found, who would dare proclaim the plan, a visionary one ? would dare insinuate, that if carried out, it would turn men into flippant smatterers, and inefficient bunglers ? would dare assert, that all past triumphs in art or science, have been the result of untiring, night-and-day devotion to one calling, and not to the cotemporaneous pursuit of a score ? would dare throw out the absurd idea, that Grod designed one man for a statesman or a poet, and another for a huckster or a knife-grinder ? What, have you the face to say, that under socialistic sway, the world would have been defrauded of the mighty works of a Mi- chael Angelo, of the plays of a Shakspeare, of the dictionary of a Bayle, of the commentaries of a Kent, and, probably, of the steam-engine itself? Is that any reason for continuing the existing abominable arrangements of society ? You might as well allege in their behalf, that under ihem alone, has the world witnessed the self-devotion of a Wilberforce, the be- nevolence of a Howard, or the patriotism of a Wash- ington. Away with such miserable notions ! How dare a man, in this age of hght and progress, prefer 192 FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. the paltry, tke contracted pleasures and duties, that belong to home and country, to the permanent well- being and advancement of the Great Brotherhood 1 How dare a man selfishly pursue any one vocation in life, no matter how strong the impulse may be from within, or the inducements from without, and meanly refuse a hearty, earnest participation in them all? How dare a Webster hesitate for a moment, when the time arrives, about breaking off his speech before the Senate, or his argument before the Su- preme Court, and going forth, and skinning his hogs, according to the programme of the day ? How dare a Channing refuse, straightway to suspend his sub- lime meditations, and cheerfully take his turn, with his peck-measure, and his sand-cart ? Out upon such pitiful, such contracted notions ! They belong to an effete, and barbarous age ; and the iadividual, who persists in cherishing and expressing them, de- serves to be, and will be, most liberally bespattered with the epithets of Granny, Ninny, Fogie ! Another, and a kindred doctrine, upon which my friend insists, with equal zeal and emphasis, is, that all men really prefer Right-doing to Wrong- doing, Duty to Self-indulgence. Their intentions, he thinks, are uniformly good, their impulses, uniformly noble. All they want, is light. Just as we all pre- fer work to play, and are only waiting for some great PLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. 198 expounder, to come forward, with his grand, all-con- vincing scheme of labor, so we are all on the qui vive for some great -moral teacher, who will give a clear and explicit direction to our well-meaning endeavors. The precepts of Christianity, he thinks, are too vague and loosely scattered, to secure this great result ; though they might form the basis for some magni- ficent scheme of duty, which, like the other, needs but be fairly seen by men, to secure forthwith, the allegiance of all minds and hearts. Then, indeed, will human happiness be lastingly, and universally, attained ! Oh, into how many violent fits of wrath, has this man been thrown, in the vain attempt to convince me, of the intrinsic amiability of human nature ; how many weary hours has he wasted, in equally vain attempts to persuade me, of its indomitable love of labor i But why argue, at all, with a man who proclaims such doctrines ? who thus wilfully flies in the face of all reason and experience, thus mis-reads the pages of history, the phenomena of daily life, the workings of his own heart? The evils that afflict society, then, are not to be attributed to these wicked, way- ward natures of ours, but solely to the want of some grand patent medicine, (soon to be provided,) which is straightway to cure this universal heart-sickness. 194 FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. The mission of Christ was a failure, or, at least, a mere paving of the way for some greater teacher, who will soon be here, and the '^ good time" with him ; his irresistible wisdom and eloquence will, at once, convince and compel all human souls into the right path, and Paradise and Earth will become synonyms, thence forward, and forever ! This, I confess, sounds to me, amazingly like folly and blasphemy. Had the man been contented with saying, in a plain way, that the augmented diffusion of Education in our day, aided as it is, by the Penny Press and the Electric Telegraph, and the consequent increased circulation of wholesome Christian doctrine through the world, bid fair to be of signal, nay, speedy benefit to the race, I could have readily com- prehended, and acquiesced in, such a proposition ; but, to plunge headlong into such ultraisms and ex- travagances, as the above, makes one quite out of patience. It is really sad, to see a well-meaning man like , thus led astray by every new specimen of quackery, that comes along, be it in things moral, or things material; to see him thus following at the heels, and augmenting the list of victims, of every charlatan, and swindler, and new light, that is pes- tering and plundering the community. Men are naturally good, are they ? not, as that FLIGHTS OP HOBBV-STRIDERS. 19^5 miserable old fogie, St. Paul, expresses it, " lovers of pleasures, rather than lovers of Grod," but the precise opposite. Those other old grannies, too, and croakers, King David, and King Solomon, and the writers of Job, and of Lamentations, imbecile, be- nighted creatures, that they were, they had far better have held their peace, than to have thus shamefully traduced, and belied glorious human nature, as they have ! Those other pretenders, too, and impostors, "whom the world has so unjustly applauded and made s,o much of; yes, the whole of them, from Socrates down to Washington, away with them ! Strip off their lau- rels. Down with their monuments. To the flames, with their biographies. Blot out the very songs, that sing their praises ! They have no more right to these things, nor to the thrones that they occupy in our hearts, than Thomas, or Richard, or Henry, or any other brother voter, and tax-payer, that we may stumble over, in the streets. How any respectable taker of a paper, can enter- tain 's notions on this subject, is, indeed, inconceivable ; notions utterly irreconcilable with all good government or sound legislation ; that, if fairly carried out, would resolve all coercion whatever, into tyranny, and moral suasion itself, into a gratuitous insult. 196 FLIGHTS OF HOBBY-STRIDERS. Our own glorious Constitution, which I have heard this very man extol to the skies, does not every line of it pre-suppose an infirm and corruptible nature in man ? Why all these checks and balances, this precise and guarded distribution of power ? What is it, indeed, if 's version of human nature be the true one, but a collection of superfluous and clumsy contrivances ; and its immortal expounders, but so many contemptible libellers and vilifiers ! It really seems an insult to one's own understand- ing, to argue such a point. EPISTLE FROM SING SING. Wiggins was showing me the other day a couple of very absurd, droll letters, from that mad wag of a son of his. The first runs thus. " White House, Sing Sing, January 10, 1852. Dear Dad — What a comfort it must be to you, and dear mother, to know that your cruising vagabond of a son has come to anchor at last ! Yes, my old boy, here I am, snugly caged ; the Guest of the People [ in for seven years ; just three more than our mutual friend Fillmore, was sent to his White House for. Well, I dare say, hell be quite as glad to be out at the end of his term, and return to private lodgings, as I am sure /shall. One thing is certain ; the public good imperatively demanded both appointments. We were both great thieves, certainly ; with this slight difference, to be sure ; he ran away with the affections of the people, / with their watches, spoons, and other trinkets. Well, we were both found out at last ; and, unfortunately, we are both sure to be found in for some time to come ; strict etiquette requiring that the inmates of this, as of the Executive mansion, while 198 EPISTLE FROM SING SING. always at home to their friends, return no visits. Come and see us, respected parent, at our next levee. I confess, between ourselves, that I don't altogether relish the idea of being cheated out of my New- Year's calls for the next seven years. I always hugely loved that festival ; both because of the pro- fuse circulation of creature comforts, and the glori- ous opening for professional exertions, which it af- .fbrds. I think I have heard you yourself call it the pickpockets' carnival. The Cuisine here, to say truth, is hardly more respectable than the society. My stomach objects to it most emphatically. It will soon be broken in, though, and will no doubt, eventu- ally, be a gainer by the change. Rye-mush, though unattractive, is eminently wholesome. Rye-coiFee, too, if not so fascinating as the genuine article, is far less exciting to the nerves. Such fare, assisted by good hours, and steady habits, will, I feel confident, send me forth into society again a much ruggeder, robuster individual than I entered. You will, doubtless, be gratified to learn that my occupations at present consist of a pleasing mixture of stone-cutting and leather-dressing ; two useful, wholesome crafts, the mastery of which will furnish two substantial strings to my interesting bow, when once more a freeman. ' Do you sleep comfortably ?' I think I hear you ask. To be candid, there is no EPISTLE FROM SING SING. 199 great surplus of space or comfort in my chamber. Its carpet never saw Brussels. The furniture is scanty, and uninviting. The want of a looking-glass is, perhaps, under existing circumstances, not to be regretted. No blue sky, but a bare, whitewashed wall, do I look out upon from my barred window. The spider is the weaver of my tapestry. Ah, if I could only hear the birds occasionally in the morn- ing. These poor, mute, brother jail-birds are a sad substitute. Yes, I must acknowledge that I do feel very, very lonesome these long winter nights. If they would only let me keep a cat, or even a poor bunch of flowers, now and then, for company. Flow- ers, indeed! A bouquet would look sadly out of place in my grim lodgings ! But, if I don't look out, I shall grow pathetical, and that, you know, would ruin my reputation as a Wiggins. Well, I must try and make the best of it ; find out, if I can, the bright side of my condi- tion, and endeavor to keep my eyes steadily upon it.' One thing I shall certainly learn here ; the art of holding my tongue, which I never could do when an outsider. Even here I might find it difficult ; but when the alternative is once fairly presented, of si- lence, or the contents of a double-barrelled musket, a man's choice is pretty promptly determined. Co- gent, indeed, is the logic of fire-arms ! 200 EPISTLE FROM SING SING. I often try to console myself, dear parent, by ima- gining that I am not here in durance vile, but the voluntary resident of some great Phalanstery ; one of a chosen few, who are trying a grand social expe- riment ; not the enemies of peace and order, but the true friends of progress, and pioneers of reform. The Sing Sing Community. It sounds prettily, doesn't it 1 Almost as much so as the Love- Grove, or the Hope Dale. To be sure, our edifice -has not altogether that cheerful look, that Versailles-like combination of grandeur and elegance, which a Pha- lanstery ought to present; and our discipline is a trifle too rigid to keep up the illusion. Still I try to think so. At other times, and especially on Sunday mornings, as we sit ranged in solemn rows, before the service begins, what with the silence, and the bare walls, and the uniformity of costume that pre- vails, I am beguiled for a moment into the belief that I am assisting at a Friends' Meeting. The dream is soon over, though. Ah dear, these cushionless ben- ches are very different from your comfortable pew ; and so is that odious mush, a most rascally substitute for those glorious mince pies mother used to give us. But I mustn't grumble. I shall receive, I trust, in the right spirit, the manifold flings and sarcasms with which my return to the outer Vi'orld will infallibly be greeted. No EPISTLE FROM SING SING. 201 doubt, the very first acquaintance I meet, -will sneer- ingly inquire if my mother knows I'm out. Another will ask, which I prefer, being locked out all night, or being locked in all day. And a third will doubt- less predict, with a malicious grin, that it will not be long before I am again ' dwelling in marble halls.' I must make up my mind to these compliments. They are part of the penalty. Let me pay it cheerfully. I shouldn't wonder, paternal relative, if you should affect to be greatly shocked at the tone of this epistle, as manifesting an incorrigible levity of cha- racter, to say the least. I canH help it. I am your son, and as such, must and will have my joke, under all skies and circumstances. Yes, I am your son, and that's the great reason why I am here. Thanks to your precious precepts, and still more precious ex- ample ; to your absurd indulgence at one moment, and your intolerable tyranny at another ; they it is that have made me acquainted with my present quarters. But I'll not reproach you with it. It's too late now. Let the dead past bury its dead, then. And so come up, old cock, and see me, in my govern- ment lodgings. I name no day. You'll be sure to find me somewhere about the premises, at all hours. So come up, and take a friendly peep, at least, at your (I own it,) most righteously incarcerated son, Ben." 202 EPISTLE FROM SING SING. The otter is much shorter, but quite as absurd. January 3rd, 1852. Venerated Parent — Many, many returns of these pleasant holi- days to you, and my best of mothers. How delight- ful these festive seasons are ! How full of genial influences ! How they seem to soften even the rug- gedest, flintiest natures ! Alas, even they, however, must have their drawbacks, their dark sides ! By what perverse arrangement is it, my dear sir, that this time, of all others in the world, this heart-holiday, should be pitched upon by merciless creditors for the presentation of their unconscionable bills ? I lack words to express to you how my feelings have been "wounded, and my reveries invaded, all through yes- terday and to-day, by these prosaic, these grovelling earthworms. Cruel tradesmen have been discharg- ing their shafts at me from all quarters ; so that I am, at this moment, as thoroughly and prettily piqui with arrows as ever Saint Sebastian himself was. Dare I hope, ever dear sir, that you "will fly to the rescue, will remove these barbs, bind up my wounds, and once more restore me to my primitive health and beauty ? Oh, will you add a few more pounds' weight to the many tons of obligation which you have already put upon me ? Ho"W often have I heard you make the remark, in liUO EPISTLE FROM SING SING. your own peculiar way, that a state of solvency, though unaccompanied by a solitary grace or virtue, was nevertheless, far, far preferable to one of insol- vency, though accompanied with all the Graces, and all the Virtues. Whatever I may have thought of the doctrine hitherto, I am now thoroughly and painfully convinced of its soundness. I can't help hoping, then, that you will assist me in my heroic endeavors to realize the former blessed condition ; will give me a paternal lift- out of this quagmire in which I now quake, and struggle, and set me on the glorious dry land of resumption. Let me see — two— three — four hundred — yes, four hundred dollars, best of progenitors, would just about bring me to the edge of the wood. Five hun- dred, model-parent, would set me down in the midst of a magnificent champaigne country, where the breezes of heaven would blow freely upon me. Delicacy will not allow me to add more. Wishing you again all manner of happiness, here and here- after, I remain your affectionate, sensitive son, Benjamin.'' MAGNANIMITY. Bravo, bravo, Whimsiculo ! Victory, victory ! Yes, I gained a glorious victory, this blessed morn- ing, over this irritable temper of mine. I was in- sulted, slandered, most vilely; and yet I held my peace. How easy it would have been, too, to have thrash- ed the fellow. With a very moderate outlay of phy- sical force, I could have sent him, with blackened eyes, and bleeding nose, to his lodgings. Yet I spared to speak, or to strike. I behaved with digni- fied tranquillity throughout. Let me take due credit therefor. A few more such conquests, and I shall be on the right track, indeed. But stop — hold on a moment, my dear friend. Be sure that you make the entries correctly, in this lit- tle bit of Moral Bookkeeping. Was the victory a genuine one ? Was your conduct, in this affair, so to speak, a lump of pure gold ? Was there no alloy in it? No tinge of affectation? Were there no parties by, in whose presence it would hardly have been the thing to have given way to fits of anger ?_ Were there no considerations of interest, or expedi- MAGNANIMITY. 205 ency to dim, somewhat, the lustre of your behavior 1 Alas, this analyzing of motives is a very unsatis'- factory, ungracious business. What transaction can stand it? And yet, after a fair inspection, I must claim some little credit for myself, on this oc- cp-sion. Had we been alone together, I really be- lieve I should have pursued the same peaceful course. But who are you, that cross-question me thus, and pray, what right have you to expect any such pure and lofty goodness from frail, erring mortals ? Wait till we get to heaven, if you please. There you may hope to find unalloyed wisdom, and virtue, and spirituality ; not on this dull, gross earth of ours. Our fleshly tabernacles are utterly unworthy to be the receptacles of things so precious. You might as well expect children, in an infant school, to com- prehehd the higher mathematics, as us poor sinners of a day, to fathom the dimensions of true goodness. Pure truth, pure virtue, would be altogether too much for us. Our souls would be crushed beneath them, just as our frail constitutions would be snap- ped asunder, and shattered, beneath the force of con- centrated poisons. Weak doses, alone, of either, for us feeble earth-worms ! Do be reasonable, then. Why anticipate the an- gelic state ? Why call for-such lofty exhibitions of 206 MAGNANIMITY. virtue, and above all, of that rarest, most precious, and comprehensive of them all, magnanimity ? Magnanimity ! Oh, what a world, both of doings, and refrainings, is implied in that one word. To be magnanimous, i. e. to forgive injuries ; to submit pa- tiently to unmerited abuse ; to hold the tongue ; to bridle the appetites ; to withhold unjust criticisms ; to retract hasty opinions' ; to see good things in an enemy ; to live down slanders ; to trust to truth, un- der all circumstances ; to be tranquil when your good deeds are forgotten, your good things stolen ; to sur- render the floor cheerfully, to one, every way your inferior ; to await results patiently, not crying out for fruits in the season of blossoms ; to stick to your friend, no matter what may be the circumstances of his birth, or the cut of his coat, or the color of his skin ; to prefer duty to glory, integrity to populari- ty ; to meet misfortune, bereavement, death itself, with a placid smile ; to be all this, to do, or to keep from doing, all these things ; where, where is the man, or woman, who dare lay claim to virtue so glo- rious, so divine ? Why, how many of us can ride victorious over the small troubles, the petty miseries of life? How many, for instance, can keep their dignity before in- solent, or worthless servants ? Can refrain from in- vective, when their good marketing falls into the MAGNANIMITY. 207 hands of bungling cooks ? Or sit quietly by, wbeii stupid actors are murdering tbeir plays, or when their music is misinterpreted, and mutilated, by in- competent orchestras, and drunken singers ? Or can look sweetly when their fine sentences are knocked into nonsense by unfeeling compositors ? Or who can even take a touch of the tooth-ache, or a twinge of (a most righteously earned) gout, without being furious, and blasphemous ? Magnanimity, indeed ! And yet, we certainly do run against a noble specimen of it, now and then, alike in the pages of history, and the walks of daily life. Fabius Maximus, for example ; how gloriously he behaved towards that insolent general of his, Minucius ; who, when the latter had insulted him, sneered at him, disobeyed his orders, and had there- by, at last, involved himself and forces, in imminent peril, came,- nevertheless, promptly to the rescue, drove off the enemy, carried the day, and thus saved his unworthy officer from the disgrace and death that he had fairly earned ; and, when all was over, sent for him to his tent, received him without word of an- ger, or look of rebuke, applauded his valor, restored him to his command, nay, shared his power with him. Glorious, indeed, conduct like this ; deserving all the honors that sculptor, or poet, can give it. That distinguished jurist, too, who, when fire came 208 MAGNANIMITY. at night, and de.voured, in a few brief moments, the labors of years, rose up bright and early next morn- ing, and began them anew, with unclouded brow, un- daunted resolution, what an illustrious example of magnanimity did he set his brethren ! How many such cases are there, though ? What proportion do actions, like these, bear to their oppo- sites ? How large a part do they form of the multi- tudinous performances to which each hour bears witness? Are they as plenty as blackberries, or scarcer than rubies 1 ' How many of the pews would it take to hold those members of any congregation in town, who come anywhere near this glorious stan- dard? Alas, it has not been my experience to encounter them. There are some three or four women, to be sure, God bless them, that I feel to be capable of such things ; angels, while with us, blessed angels that will be ; whom the neighborhoods -that they are now comforting and gladdening, will miss most grievously, when they take their flight. One such man, too, it is my happiness to know ; I had almost said two ; but perhaps I had better wait five years yet, before jumping to any such hasty conclusion. LECTURE ON PROGRESS. Heard 's lecture last night. It was a rare treat. It is pleasant, indeed, in this age of ultraists, to hear such cairn, wise doctrines. It is refreshing, to hear a man of such paramount claims, moral and intellectual, upon our esteem, express himself so independently, yet modestly, so mildly, yet most forcibly withal, upon all the exciting topics of the day. He began by avowing himself of neither faction. He was neither Radical nor Conservative. He saw a good deal to admire, and a good deal to condemn, on both sides, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind freely, yet with all due courtesy, to both. Perhaps he bore a little harder upon the former class, than the latter. He certainly did administer some very effective volleys, to the more intemperate portion of them ; the vanguards, as he styled them, of the various invading armies of inno- vators ; especially, did he throw in a smart shower of telling grape, among the Women's Rights' men, and the Socialists. He was emphatically opposed to turning females into masters of vessels, or mem- bers of Congress. He could not bear the idea of 210 LECTURE ON PROGRESS. making marriage a mere partnership ; and while, on the one hand, he was for dropping the word obey, from the matrimonial yow, he could not, on the other, at all relish the notion of heing continually remind- ed, by the wife of his bosom, that she was an inde- pendent property-holder. Still less was he for merging his individualism in a phalanstery. He had too great a regard, both for his moral and physical health, to venture upon any such social arrangements. He insisted, most earnestly, upon the value and importance of individual exertion, individual responsibility, as being at the bottom of all true development, all great achieve- ments. Most appropriate advice, surely, in this community and age, of ours, when the Tnan is more and more in danger, every hour, of being swallowed up in the mass ; the natural person, in the artificial ; the hus- band and the father, in the trustee and the stock- holder ; when society itself seems fast degenerating into a mere committee. _ Outrageous, indeed, is it, that these same corporations, mere creatures, ser- vants, instruments, should be thus perverted from their true nature and office ; thus be turned into mas- ters, nay, monsters, over-riding, crushing their very contrivers, beneath their wheels ! By what right, do they thus monopolize all our energies and pas- LECTURE ON PROGRESS. 211 ^ons, run away with our best thougiitB and moments, drain alike our veins and our purses, sacrifice, in a word, our whole individual being, to their merciless exactions ? To think, too, that men, calhng them- selves Republicans, should become so perverted, as even to glory in this vile bondage ! Monstrous, indeed, to see a man more attached to a board of directors, than to his own family ; to see him setting more store by a string of heartless resolutions, or a newspaper puff, or a paltry pitcher, than by all the joys and endearments of his own fire-side ! - But how can I, in this blessed era of illumination and progress, indulge in sentiments so childish? What are they, after all, but miserable prejudices, only fit for the fogies of the dark ages ! Oh, thank God /or such prejudices ! What would life be worth, without them ? Horrible notion, that public spirit is to claim precedence in a man's heart, over family ties and duties ! Such public spirit as that, I have no faith in. There is far more vanity and ambition about it, than true regard for the wel- fare of others. I have no faith in thai man's philan- thropy, who, while professing to take the whole race into his bosom, is yet a stranger and an alien to his own household ! Prejudices, forsooth ! It is easy, indeed, for your cold-blooded reformers, 212 LECTURE ON PROGRESS. to preach against prejudices, and to cry up princi- ples ; but, wUle hearts throb in human bosoms, the former will carry the day. Reason may talk herself hoarse ; may keep remonstrating, scolding, from now till Doomsday, without shaking their sov- ereignty. You may call it a very childish prejudice, for in- stance, to prefer a coin to a bank-note ; but what heart has ever yet allowed itself to be argued out of that preference, by any reasoning, however power- ful ? Who can help being more fascinated by, and more warmly attached to, the glittering original, than its plausible representative ? I care not, how promptly redeemable it may be, or how exquisitely executed, its vignettes. Convertibility into specie, is not specie. As the best description of Niagara, falls far behind the all-glorious reality, so the most insinuating of paper substitutes, comes short of the sparkling, beautiful child of the mint. The heart will not be thus defrauded ; " the old instinct will bring back the old forms." But I am wandering away, most unseasonably and whimsically, as usual, from the lecture in ques- tion. While thus bore down upon the more hot-headed Radicals, the Ultra-Reformers, who never begin their reforms with themselves, whose ever- brandished brooms are never employed in sweeping LECTURE ON PROGRESS. 213 out the chambers of their own deceitful hearts, he did not spare, on the other hand, the creeping Con- servatives, the enemies of all improvement. If they had had their way, there would have been no Argo- nautic expedition, no fight at Salamis, no voyage of Columbus, no Plymouth Rock, no Revolution in 1688, no Declaration in 1776. Had their counsels prevailed. New- York, to-day, would have been, with all its natural endowments, but a small, dull, ill- paved, poorly lighted, Manhattan-water-drinking town. The great charm of the discourse, after all, was the tone of suppressed power, and controlled sensi- bility, that pervaded it. The lecturer might easily have been a hundred-fold more brilliant, witty, and sarcastic, had he chosen ; might have tickled our ears with fine imagery, or have humored our pas- sions and prejudices ; but he preferred to speak the words of truth and soberness. Rare forbear- ance, indeed, in these days of partizans and self-pa- raders ! It is a comfort to feel that there are a few such men, scattered over the Republic ; men, whom you are proud to acknowledge as counsellors and teach- ers ; who are sure to give you good advice, sound doctrines, liberal views ; who, while rebuking the intemperance of zealots, are yet ever ready to extend 214 LECTURE ON PROGRESS. the right hand of fellowship to the true reformer ; the expressions of -whose faces, the very tones of whose voices, convince you at once, that you are in good hands ; whose rare faculties and acquirements you feel to be enlisted in, consecrated to, the service of Truth. AN OLD FRIEND GONE. I SEE, by the paper, this morningj that my old friend, , is gone, at last. Yes, he has sung his last song, fought his last fight, delivered his last message, and the curtain -will rise upon him no more, for ever ! The first time I saw this worthy man, he nearly frightened me out of my wits. I was a small boy, in the pit of the Park Theatre ; he, a ferocious Tar- tar, in the pay of the sanguinary Timour; What would I have not given, to have got handsomely out of the building ! I can hardly help shuddering, even now, when I think of him. How little did I dream, at the time, that I should ever take by the hand, in broad daylight, and exchange pleasant words and smiles, with that infernal-looking rufiSan ! My second peep at him, was in " The Miller and his Men." It was in the same spot. I was a few moons older, and a trifle more composed; still, most profoundly impressed. If I remember rightly, was decidedly the most prominent, and bustling, of those same Men. He sang louder, waved his pewter cup more energetically, tossed off his imaginary Rhe- 216 AN OLD FRIEND GONE. nish with more gusto, brought his buckskin gloyes together with more of a ring, made decidedly more out of those huge clattering jack-boots of his, than any scoundrel of them all. To say truth, I was prodigiously alarmed, part of the time. My third introduction to him, was in Faustus. — He was making himself decidedly useful, as a devil ; frisking about the gates of hell, with tail and pitch- fork ; full of fun, and brimstone, and aU manner of diabolical capers, and head-shakes. Ugh, what a spectacle ! I shuddered, while I grinned. We waited for the farce, I remember. In the course of it, an individual entered with a tray, wheireon a cold fowl, bread, and pickles, were clearly visible ; and when the dear old kinsman, who took me to the play, informed me, that the pleasant, active-looking-man before us, was the identical limb of Satan who had helped poke the Doctor into the flames, I could not, and wo?