← catalogue

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 119, September, 1867

by Various · English · Gutenberg #33451 · 514,713 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 119, September, 1867
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 119, September, 1867

Author: Various


        
Release date: August 17, 2010 [eBook #33451]
                Most recently updated: January 6, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33451

Credits: Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
        Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
        (This file was produced from images generously made
        available by Cornell University Digital Collections.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME 20, NO. 119, SEPTEMBER, 1867 ***




Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by Cornell University Digital Collections.)







THE

ATLANTIC MONTHLY.

_A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._

VOL. XX.--SEPTEMBER, 1867.--NO. CXIX.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by TICKNOR AND
FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.




THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.


CHAPTER XXIV.

MUSTERING OF FORCES.

Not long after the tableau performance had made Myrtle Hazard's name
famous in the school and among the friends of the scholars, she received
the very flattering attention of a call from Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24
Carat Place. This was in consequence of a suggestion from Mr. Livingston
Jenkins, a particular friend of the family.

"They've got a demonish splendid school-girl over there," he said to
that lady,--"made the stunningest-looking Pocahontas at the show there
the other day. Demonish plucky-looking filly as ever you saw. Had a row
with another girl,--gave the war-whoop, and went at her with a knife.
Festive,--hey? Say she only meant to scare her,--_looked_ as if she
meant to stick her, anyhow. Splendid style. Why can't you go over to the
shop and make 'em trot her out?"

The lady promised Mr. Livingston Jenkins that she certainly would, just
as soon as she could find a moment's leisure,--which, as she had nothing
in the world to do, was not likely to be very soon. Myrtle in the mean
time was busy with her studies, little dreaming what an extraordinary
honor was awaiting her.

That rare accident in the lives of people who have nothing to do, a
leisure morning, did at last occur. An elegant carriage, with a coachman
in a wonderful cape, seated on a box lofty as a throne, and wearing a
hat-band as brilliant as a coronet, stopped at the portal of Madam
Delacoste's establishment. A card was sent in bearing the open sesame of
Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, the great lady of 24 Carat Place. Miss Myrtle
Hazard was summoned as a matter of course, and the fashionable woman and
the young girl sat half an hour together in lively conversation.

Myrtle was fascinated by her visitor, who had that flattering manner
which, to those not experienced in the world's ways, seems to imply
unfathomable depths of disinterested devotion. Then it was so delightful
to look upon a perfectly appointed woman,--one who was as artistically
composed as a poem or an opera,--in whose costume a kind of various
rhythm undulated in one fluent harmony, from the spray that nodded on
her bonnet to the rosette that blossomed on her sandal. As for the lady,
she was captivated with Myrtle. There is nothing that your fashionable
woman, who has ground and polished her own spark of life into as many
and as glittering social facets as it will bear, has a greater passion
for than a large rough diamond, which knows nothing of the sea of light
it imprisons, and which it will be her pride to have cut into a
brilliant under her own eye, and to show the world for its admiration
and her own reflected glory. Mrs. Clymer Ketchum had taken the entire
inventory of Myrtle's natural endowments before the interview was over.
She had no marriageable children, and she was thinking what a killing
bait Myrtle would be at one of her own parties.

She soon got another letter from Mr. William Murray Bradshaw, which
explained the interest he had taken in Madam Delacoste's school,--all
which she knew pretty nearly beforehand, for she had found out a good
part of Myrtle's history in the half-hour they had spent in company.

"I had a particular reason for my inquiries about the school," he wrote.
"There is a young girl there I take an interest in. She is handsome and
interesting, and--though it is a shame to mention such a thing--has
possibilities in the way of fortune not to be undervalued. Why can't you
make her acquaintance and be civil to her? A country girl, but fine old
stock, and will make a figure some time or other, I tell you. Myrtle
Hazard,--that's her name. A mere school-girl. Don't be malicious and
badger me about her, but be polite to her. Some of these country girls
have got 'blue blood' in them, let me tell you, and show it plain
enough."

("In huckleberry season.") said Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, in a
parenthesis,--and went on reading.

"Don't think I'm one of your love-in-a-cottage sort, to have my head
turned by a village beauty. I've got a career before me, Mrs. K., and I
know it. But this is one of my pets, and I want you to keep an eye on
her. Perhaps when she leaves school you wouldn't mind asking her to come
and stay with you a little while. Possibly. I may come and see how she
is getting on if you do,--won't that tempt you, Mrs. C. K.?"

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum wrote back to her relative how she had already made
the young lady's acquaintance.

"Livingston Jenkins (you remember him) picked her out of the whole lot
of girls as the 'prettiest filly in the stable.' That's his horrid way
of talking. But your young milkmaid is really charming, and will come
into form like a Derby three-year-old. There, now, I've caught that
odious creature's horse-talk, myself. You're dead in love with this
girl, Murray, you know you are.

"After all, I don't know but you're right. You would make a good country
lawyer enough, I don't doubt. I used to think you had your ambitions,
but never mind. If you choose to risk yourself on 'possibilities,' it is
not my affair, and she's a beauty,--there's no mistake about that.

"There are some desirable _partis_ at the school with your Dulcinea.
There's Rose Bugbee. That last name is a good one to be married from.
Rose is a nice girl,--there are only two of them. The estate will cut up
like one of the animals it was made out of,--you know,--the
sandwich-quadruped. Then there's Berengaria. Old Topping owns the Planet
Hotel among other things,--so big, they say, there's always a bell
ringing from somebody's room day and night the year round. Only
child--unit and six ciphers--carries diamonds loose in her
pocket--that's the story--good-looking--lively--a little slangy--called
Livingston Jenkins 'Living Jingo' to his face one day. I want you to see
my lot before you do anything serious. You owe something to the family,
Mr. William Murray Bradshaw! But you must, suit yourself, after all: if
you are contented with a humble position in life, it is nobody's
business that I know of. Only I know what life is, Murray B. Getting
married is jumping overboard, any way you look at it, and if you must
save some woman from drowning an old maid, try to find one _with a cork
jacket_, or she'll carry you down with her."

Murray Bradshaw was calculating enough, but he shook his head over this
letter. It was too demonish cold-blooded for him, he said to himself.
(Men cannot pardon women for saying aloud what they do not hesitate to
think in silence themselves.) Never mind,--he must have Mrs. Clymer
Ketchum's house and influence for his own purposes. Myrtle Hazard must
become her guest, and then, if circumstances were favorable, he was
certain of obtaining her aid in his project.

The opportunity to invite Myrtle to the great mansion presented itself
unexpectedly. Early in the spring of 1861 there were some cases of
sickness in Madam Delacoste's establishment, which led to closing the
school for a while. Mrs. Clymer Ketchum took advantage of the dispersion
of the scholars to ask Myrtle to come and spend some weeks with her.
There were reasons why this was more agreeable to the young girl than
returning to Oxbow Village, and she very gladly accepted the invitation.

It was very remarkable that a man living as Master Byles Gridley had
lived for so long a time should all at once display such liberality as
he showed to a young woman who had no claim upon him, except that he had
rescued her from the consequences of her own imprudence and warned her
against impending dangers. Perhaps he cared more for her than if the
obligation had been the other way,--students of human nature say it is
commonly so. At any rate, either he had ampler resources than it was
commonly supposed, or he was imprudently giving way to his generous
impulses, or he thought he was making advances which would in due time
be returned to him. Whatever the reason was, he furnished her with
means, not only for her necessary expenses, but sufficient to afford her
many of the elegances which she would be like to want in the fashionable
society with which she was for a short time to mingle.

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum was so well pleased with the young lady she was
entertaining, that she thought it worth while to give a party while
Myrtle was staying with her. She had her jealousies and rivalries, as
women of the world will, sometimes, and these may have had their share
in leading her to take the trouble a large party involved. She was tired
of the airs of Mrs. Pinnikle, who was of the great Apex family, and her
terribly accomplished daughter Rhadamantha, and wanted to crush the
young lady, and jaundice her mother, with a girl twice as brilliant and
ten times handsomer. She was very willing, also, to take the nonsense
out of the Capsheaf girls, who thought themselves the most stylish
personages of their city world, and would bite their lips well to see
themselves distanced by a country miss.

In the mean time circumstances were promising to bring into Myrtle's
neighborhood several of her old friends and admirers. Mrs. Clymer
Ketchum had written to Murray Bradshaw that she had asked his pretty
milkmaid to come and stay awhile with her, but he had been away on
business, and only arrived in the city a day or two before the party.
But other young fellows had found out the attractions of the girl who
was "hanging out at the Clymer Ketchum concern," and callers were
plenty, reducing _tête-à-têtes_ in a corresponding ratio. He did get one
opportunity, however, and used it well. They had so many things to talk
about in common, that she could not help finding him good company. She
might well be pleased, for he was an adept in the curious art of being
agreeable, as other people are in chess or billiards, and had made a
special study of her tastes, as a physician studies a patient's
constitution. What he wanted was to get her thoroughly interested in
himself, and to maintain her in a receptive condition until such time as
he should be ready for a final move. Any day might furnish the decisive
motive; in the mean time he wished only to hold her as against all
others.

It was well for her, perhaps, that others had flattered her into a
certain consciousness of her own value. She felt her veins full of the
same rich blood as that which had flushed the cheeks of handsome Judith
in the long summer of her triumph. Whether it was vanity, or pride, or
only the instinctive sense of inherited force and attraction, it was the
best of defences. The golden bracelet on her wrist seemed to have
brought as much protection with it as if it had been a shield over her
heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

But far away in Oxbow Village other events were in preparation. The
"fugitive pieces" of Mr. Gifted Hopkins had now reached a number so
considerable, that, if collected and printed in large type, with plenty
of what the unpleasant printers call "fat,"--meaning thereby blank
spaces,--upon a good, substantial, not to say thick paper, they might
perhaps make a volume which would have substance enough to bear the
title, printed lengthwise along the back, "Hopkins's Poems." Such a
volume that author had in contemplation. It was to be the literary event
of the year 1861.

He could not mature such a project, one which he had been for some time
contemplating, without consulting Mr. Byles Gridley, who, though he had
not unfrequently repressed the young poet's too ardent ambition, had yet
always been kind and helpful.

Mr. Gridley was seated in his large arm-chair, indulging himself in the
perusal of a page or two of his own work before repeatedly referred to.
His eye was glistening, for it had just rested on the following
passage:--

"_There is infinite pathos in unsuccessful authorship. The book that
perishes unread is the deaf mute of literature. The great asylum of
Oblivion is full of such, making inaudible signs to each other in leaky
garrets and unattainable dusty upper shelves._"

He shut the book, for the page grew a little dim as he finished this
elegiac sentence, and sighed to think how much more keenly he felt its
truth than when it was written,--than on that memorable morning when he
saw the advertisement in all the papers, "This day published, 'Thoughts
on the Universe. By Byles Gridley, A. M.'"

At that moment he heard a knock at his door. He closed his eyelids
forcibly for ten seconds, opened them, and said, cheerfully, "Come in!"

Gifted Hopkins entered. He had a collection of manuscripts in his hands
which it seemed to him would fill a vast number of pages. He did not
know that manuscript is to type what fresh dandelions are to the dish of
greens that comes to table, of which last Nurse Byloe, who considered
them very wholesome spring grazing for her patients, used to say that
they "biled down dreadful."

"I have brought the autographs of my poems, Master Gridley, to consult
you about making arrangements for publication. They have been so well
received by the public and the leading critics of this part of the
State, that I think of having them printed in a volume. I am going to
the city for that purpose. My mother has given her consent. I wish to
ask you several business questions. Shall I part with the copyright for
a downright sum of money, which I understand some prefer doing, or
publish on shares, or take a percentage on the sales? These, I believe,
are the different ways taken by authors."

Mr. Gridley was altogether too considerate to reply with the words which
would most naturally have come to his lips. He waited as if he were
gravely pondering the important questions just put to him, all the while
looking at Gifted with a tenderness which no one who had not buried one
of his soul's children could have felt for a young author trying to get
clothing for his new-born intellectual offspring.

"I think," he said presently, "you had better talk with an intelligent
and liberal publisher, and be guided by his advice. I can put you in
correspondence with such a person, and you had better trust him than me
a great deal. Why don't you send your manuscript by mail?"

"_What_, Mr. Gridley? Trust my poems, some of which are unpublished, to
the post-office? No, sir, I could never make up my mind to such a risk.
I mean to go to the city myself, and read them to some of the leading
publishers. I don't want to pledge myself to any one of them. I should
like to set them bidding against each other for the copyright, if I sell
it at all."

Mr. Gridley gazed upon the innocent youth with a sweet wonder in his
eyes that made him look like an angel, a little damaged in the features
by time, but full of celestial feelings.

"It will cost you something to make this trip, Gifted. Have you the
means to pay for your journey and your stay at a city hotel?"

Gifted blushed. "My mother has laid by a small sum for me," he said.
"She knows some of my poems by heart, and she wants to see them all in
print."

Master Gridley closed his eyes very firmly again, as if thinking, and
opened them as soon as the foolish film had left them. He had read many
a page of "Thoughts on the Universe" to his own old mother, long, long
years ago, and she had often listened with tears of modest pride that
Heaven had favored her with a son so full of genius.

"I'll tell you what, Gifted," he said. "I have been thinking for a good
while that I would make a visit to the city, and if you have made up
your mind to try what you can do with the publishers, I will take you
with me as a companion. It will be a saving to you and your good mother,
for I shall bear the expenses of the expedition."

Gifted Hopkins came very near going down on his knees. He was so
overcome with gratitude that it seemed as if his very coat-tails wagged
with his emotion.

"Take it quietly," said Master Gridley. "Don't make a fool of yourself.
Tell your mother to have some clean shirts and things ready for you, and
we will be off day after to-morrow morning."

Gifted hastened to impart the joyful news to his mother, and to break
the fact to Susan Posey that he was about to leave them for a while, and
rush into the deliriums and dangers of the great city.

Susan smiled. Gifted hardly knew whether to be pleased with her
sympathy, or vexed that she did not take his leaving more to heart. The
smile held out bravely for about a quarter of a minute. Then there came
on a little twitching at the corners of the mouth. Then the blue eyes
began to shine with a kind of veiled glimmer. Then the blood came up
into her cheeks with a great rush, as if the heart had sent up a herald
with a red flag from the citadel to know what was going on at the
outworks. The message that went back was of discomfiture and
capitulation. Poor Susan was overcome, and gave herself up to weeping
and sobbing.

The sight was too much for the young poet. In a wild burst of passion he
seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, "Would that you
could be mine forever!" and Susan forgot all that she ought to have
remembered, and, looking half reproachfully but half tenderly through
her tears, said, in tones of infinite sweetness, "O Gifted!"


CHAPTER XXV

THE POET AND THE PUBLISHER.

It was settled that Master Byles Gridley and Mr. Gifted Hopkins should
leave early in the morning of the day appointed, to take the nearest
train to the city. Mrs. Hopkins labored hard to get them ready, so that
they might make a genteel appearance among the great people whom they
would meet in society. She brushed up Mr. Gridley's best black suit, and
bound the cuffs of his dress-coat, which were getting a little worried.
She held his honest-looking hat to the fire, and smoothed it while it
was warm, until one would have thought it had just been ironed by the
hatter himself. She had his boots and shoes brought into a more
brilliant condition than they had ever known: if Gifted helped, it was
to his credit as much as if he had shown his gratitude by polishing off
a copy of verses in praise of his benefactor.

When she had got Mr. Gridley's encumbrances in readiness for the
journey, she devoted herself to fitting out her son Gifted. First, she
had down from the garret a capacious trunk, of solid wood, but covered
with leather, and adorned with brass-headed nails, by the cunning
disposition of which, also, the paternal initials stood out on the
rounded lid, in the most conspicuous manner. It was his father's trunk,
and the first thing that went into it, as the widow lifted the cover,
and the smothering, shut-up smell struck an old chord of associations,
was a single tear-drop. How well she remembered the time when she first
unpacked it for her young husband, and the white shirt bosoms showed
their snowy plaits! O dear, dear!

But women decant their affection, sweet and sound, out of the old
bottles into the new ones,--off from the lees of the past generation,
clear and bright, into the clean vessels just made ready to receive it.
Gifted Hopkins was his mother's idol, and no wonder. She had not only
the common attachment of a parent for him, as her offspring, but she
felt that her race was to be rendered illustrious by his genius, and
thought proudly of the time when some future biographer would mention
her own humble name, to be held in lasting remembrance as that of the
mother of Hopkins.

So she took great pains to equip this brilliant but inexperienced young
man with everything he could by any possibility need during his absence.
The great trunk filled itself until it bulged with its contents like a
boa-constrictor who has swallowed his blanket. Best clothes and common
clothes, thick clothes and thin clothes, flannels and linens, socks and
collars, with handkerchiefs enough to keep the pickpockets busy for a
week, with a paper of gingerbread and some lozenges for gastralgia, and
"hot drops," and ruled paper to write letters on, and a little Bible,
and a phial with _hiera picra_, and another with paregoric, and another
with "camphire" for sprains and bruises,--Gifted went forth equipped for
every climate from the tropic to the pole, and armed against every
malady from Ague to Zoster. He carried also the paternal watch, a solid
silver bull's-eye, and a large pocket-book, tied round with a long tape,
and, by way of precaution, pinned into his breast-pocket. He talked
about having a pistol, in case he were attacked by any of the ruffians
who are so numerous in the city, but Mr. Gridley told him, No! he would
certainly shoot himself, and he shouldn't think of letting him take a
pistol.

They went forth, Mentor and Telemachus, at the appointed time, to dare
the perils of the railroad and the snares of the city. Mrs. Hopkins was
firm up to near the last moment, when a little quiver in her voice set
her eyes off; and her face broke up all at once, so that she had to hide
it behind her handkerchief. Susan Posey showed the truthfulness of her
character in her words to Gifted at parting. "Farewell," she said, "and
think of me sometimes while absent. My heart is another's, but my
friendship, Gifted--my friendship--"

Both were deeply affected. He took her hand and would have raised it to
his lips; but she did not forget herself, and gently withdrew it,
exclaiming, "O Gifted!" this time with a tone of tender reproach which
made him feel like a profligate. He tore himself away, and when at a
safe distance flung her a kiss, which she rewarded with a tearful smile.

Master Byles Gridley must have had some good dividends from some of his
property of late. There is no other way of accounting for the handsome
style in which he did things on their arrival in the city. He went to a
tailor's and ordered a new suit to be sent home as soon as possible, for
he knew his wardrobe was a little rusty. He looked Gifted over from head
to foot, and suggested such improvements as would recommend him to the
fastidious eyes of the selecter sort of people, and put him in his own
tailor's hands, at the same time saying that all bills were to be sent
to him, B. Gridley, Esq., parlor No. 6, at the Planet House. Thus it
came to pass that in three days from their arrival they were both in an
eminently presentable condition. In the mean time the prudent Mr.
Gridley had been keeping the young man busy, and amusing himself by
showing him such of the sights of the city and its suburbs as he thought
would combine instruction with entertainment.

When they were both properly equipped and ready for the best company,
Mr. Gridley said to the young poet, who had found it very hard to
contain his impatience, that they would now call together on the
publisher to whom he wished to introduce him, and they set out
accordingly.

"My name is Gridley," he said with modest gravity, as he entered the
publisher's private room. "I have a note of introduction here from one
of your authors, as I think he called himself,--a very popular writer
for whom you publish."

The publisher rose and came forward in the most cordial and respectful
manner. "Mr. Gridley?--Professor Byles Gridley,--author of 'Thoughts on
the Universe'?"

The brave-hearted old man colored as if he had been a young girl. His
dead book rose before him like an apparition. He groped in modest
confusion for an answer. "A child I buried long ago, my dear sir," he
said. "Its title-page was its tombstone. I have brought this young
friend with me,--this is Mr. Gifted Hopkins of Oxbow Village,--who
wishes to converse with you about--"

"I have come, sir--" the young poet began, interrupting him.

"Let me look at your manuscript, if you please, Mr. Popkins," said the
publisher, interrupting in his turn.

"Hopkins, if you please, sir," Gifted suggested mildly, proceeding to
extract the manuscript, which had got wedged into his pocket, and seemed
to be holding on with all its might. He was wondering all the time over
the extraordinary clairvoyance of the publisher, who had looked through
so many thick folds, broadcloth, lining, brown paper, and seen his poems
lying hidden in his breast-pocket. The idea that a young person coming
on such an errand should have to explain his intentions would have
seemed very odd to the publisher. He knew the look which belongs to this
class of enthusiasts just as a horse-dealer knows the look of a green
purchaser with the equine fever raging in his veins. If a young author
had come to him with a scrap of manuscript hidden in his boots, like
Major André's papers, the publisher would have taken one glance at him
and said, "Out with it!"

While he was battling for the refractory scroll with his pocket, which
turned half wrong side out, and acted as things always do when people
are nervous and in a hurry, the publisher directed his conversation
again to Master Byles Gridley.

"A remarkable book, that of yours, Mr. Gridley,--would have a great run
if it were well handled. Came out twenty years too soon,--that was the
trouble. One of our leading scholars was speaking of it to me the other
day. 'We must have a new edition,' he said; 'people are just ripe for
that book.' Did you ever think of that? Change the form of it a little,
and give it a new title, and it will be a popular book. Five thousand or
more, very likely."

Mr. Gridley felt as if he had been rapidly struck on the forehead with a
dozen distinct blows from a hammer not quite big enough to stun him. He
sat still without saying a word. He had forgotten for the moment all
about poor Gifted Hopkins, who had got out his manuscript at last, and
was calming the disturbed corners of it. Coming to himself a little, he
took a large and beautiful silk handkerchief, one of his new purchases,
from his pocket, and applied it to his face, for the weather seemed to
have grown very warm all at once. Then he remembered the errand on which
he had come, and thought of this youth, who had got to receive his first
hard lesson in life, and whom he had brought to this kind man that it
should be gently administered.

"You surprise me," he said,--"you surprise me. Dead and buried. Dead and
buried. I had sometimes thought that--at some future period, after I was
gone, it might--but I hardly know what to say about your suggestions.
But here is my young friend, Mr. Hopkins, who would like to talk with
you, and I will leave him in your hands. I am at the Planet House, if
you should care to call upon me. Good morning. Mr. Hopkins will explain
everything to you more at his ease, without me, I am confident."

Master Gridley could not quite make up his mind to stay through the
interview between the young poet and the publisher. The flush of hope
was bright in Gifted's eye and cheek, and the good man knew that young
hearts are apt to be over-sanguine, and that one who enters a
shower-bath often feels very differently from the same person when he
has pulled the string.

"I have brought you my Poems in the original autographs, sir," said Mr.
Gifted Hopkins.

He laid the manuscript on the table, caressing the leaves still with one
hand, as loath to let it go.

"What disposition had you thought of making of them?" the publisher
asked, in a pleasant tone. He was as kind a man as lived, though he
worked the chief engine in a chamber of torture.

"I wish to read you a few specimens of the poems," he said, "with
reference to their proposed publication in a volume."

"By all means," said the kind publisher, who determined to be very
patient with the _protégé_ of the hitherto little-known, but remarkable
writer, Professor Gridley. At the same time he extended his foot in an
accidental sort of way, and pressed it on the right-hand knob of three
which were arranged in a line beneath the table. A little bell in a
distant apartment--the little bell marked C--gave one slight note, loud
enough to start a small boy up, who looked at the clock, and knew that
he was to go and call the publisher in just twenty-five minutes. "A,
five minutes; B, ten minutes; C, twenty-five minutes";--that was the
small boy's working formula. Mr. Hopkins was treated to the full
allowance of time, as being introduced by Professor Gridley.

The young man laid open the manuscript so that the title-page, written
out very handsomely in his own hand, should win the eye of the
publisher.

    BLOSSOMS OF THE SOUL.

    A WREATH OF VERSE; _Original_.

    BY GIFTED HOPKINS.

    "A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown."

    _Gray._

"Shall I read you some of the rhymed pieces first, or some of the
blank-verse poems, sir?" Gifted asked.

"Read what you think is best,--a specimen of your first-class style of
composition."

"I will read you the very last poem I have written," he said, and
began:--


    "THE TRIUMPH OF SONG.

    "I met that gold-haired maiden, all too dear;
    And I to her: Lo! Thou art very fair,
    Fairer than all the ladies in the world
    That fan the sweetened air with scented fans,
    And I am scorchéd with exceeding love,
    Yea, crispéd till my bones are dry as straw.
    Look not away with that high-archéd brow,
    But turn its whiteness that I may behold,
    And lift thy great eyes till they blaze on mine.
    And lay thy finger on thy perfect mouth,
    And let thy lucent ears of carven pearl
    Drink in the murmured music of my soul,
    As the lush grass drinks in the globéd dew;
    For I have many scrolls of sweetest rhyme
    I will unroll and make thee glad to hear.
      "Then she: O shaper of the marvellous phrase
    That openeth woman's heart as doth a key,
    I dare not hear thee--lest the bolt should slide
    That locks another's heart within my own.
    Go, leave me,--and she let her eyelids fall
    And the great tears rolled from her large blue eyes.
      "Then I: If thou not hear me, I shall die,
    Yea, in my desperate mood may lift my hand
    And do myself a hurt no leech can mend;
    For poets ever were of dark resolve,
    And swift stern deed--
                        That maiden heard no more,
    But spake: Alas! my heart is very weak,
    And but for--Stay! And if some dreadful morn,
      After great search and shouting thorough the wold,
    We found thee missing,--strangled,--drowned i' the mere,--
      Then should I go distraught and be clean mad!
    O poet, read! read all thy wondrous scroll!
    Yea, read the verse that maketh glad to hear!
    Then I began and read two sweet, brief hours,
    And she forgot all love save only mine!"

"Is all this from real life?" asked the publisher.

"It--no, sir--not exactly from real life--that is, the leading female
person is not wholly fictitious--and the incident is one which might
have happened. Shall I read you the poems referred to in the one you
have just heard, sir?"

"Allow me, one moment. Two hours' reading, I think, you said. I fear I
shall hardly be able to spare quite time to hear them all. Let me ask
what you intend doing with these productions, Mr----rr--Popkins."

"Hopkins, if you please, sir, not Popkins," said Gifted, plaintively. He
expressed his willingness to dispose of the copyright, to publish on
shares, or perhaps to receive a certain percentage on the profits.

"Suppose we take a glass of wine together, Mr.----Hopkins, before we
talk business," the publisher said, opening a little cupboard and taking
therefrom a decanter and two glasses. He saw the young man was looking
nervous. He waited a few minutes, until the wine had comforted his
epigastrium, and diffused its gentle glow through his unspoiled and
consequently susceptible organization.

"Come with me," he said.

Gifted followed him into a dingy apartment in the attic, where one sat
at a great table heaped and piled with manuscripts. By him was a huge
basket, half full of manuscripts also. As they entered he dropped
another manuscript into the basket and looked up.

"Tell me," said Gifted, "what are these papers, and who is he that looks
upon them and drops them into the basket?"

"These are the manuscript poems that we receive, and the one sitting at
the table is commonly spoken of among us as The Butcher. The poems he
drops into the basket are those rejected as of no account."

"But does he not read the poems before he rejects them?"

"He tastes them. Do you eat a cheese before you buy it?"

"And what becomes of all these that he drops into the basket?"

"If they are not claimed by their author in proper season they go to the
devil."

"What!" said Gifted, with his eyes stretched very round.

"To the paper factory, where they have a horrid machine they call the
devil, that tears everything to bits,--as the critics treat our authors,
sometimes,--_sometimes_, Mr. Hopkins."

Gifted devoted a moment to silent reflection.

After this instructive sight they returned together to the publisher's
private room. The wine had now warmed the youthful poet's præcordia, so
that he began to feel a renewed confidence in his genius and his
fortunes.

"I should like to know what that critic of yours would say to _my_
manuscript," he said boldly.

"You can try it, if you want to," the publisher replied, with an ominous
dryness of manner which the sanguine youth did not perceive, or,
perceiving, did not heed.

"How can we manage to get an impartial judgment?"

"O, I'll arrange that. He always goes to his luncheon about this time.
Raw meat and vitriol punch,--that's what the authors say. Wait till we
hear him go, and then I will lay your manuscript so that he will come to
it among the first after he gets back. You shall see with your own eyes
what treatment it gets. I hope it may please him, but you shall see."

They went back to the publisher's private room and talked awhile.
Then the small boy came up with some vague message about a
gentleman--business--wants to see you, sir, etc, according to the
established programme; all in a vacant, mechanical sort of way, as if he
were a talking-machine just running down.

The publisher told the small boy that he was engaged, and the gentleman
must wait. Very soon they heard The Butcher's heavy footstep as he went
out to get his raw meat and vitriol punch.

"Now, then," said the publisher, and led forth the confiding literary
lamb once more, to enter the fatal door of the critical shambles.

"Hand me your manuscript, if you please, Mr. Hopkins. I will lay it so
that it shall be the third of these that are coming to hand. Our friend
here is a pretty good judge of verse, and knows a merchantable article
about as quick as any man in his line of business. If he forms a
favorable opinion of your poems, we will talk over your propositions."

Gifted was conscious of a very slight tremor as he saw his precious
manuscript deposited on the table under two others, and over a pile of
similar productions. Still he could not help feeling that the critic
would be struck by his title. The quotation from Gray must touch his
feelings. The very first piece in the collection could not fail to
arrest him. He looked a little excited, but he was in good spirits.

"We will be looking about here when our friend comes back," the
publisher said. "He is a very methodical person, and will sit down and
go right to work just as if we were not here. We can watch him, and if
he should express any particular interest in your poems, I will, if you
say so, carry you up to him and reveal the fact that you are the author
of the works that please him."

They waited patiently until The Butcher returned, apparently refreshed
by his ferocious refection, and sat down at his table. He looked
comforted, and not in ill humor. The publisher and the poet talked in
low tones, as if on business of their own, and watched him as he
returned to his labor.

The Butcher took the first manuscript that came to hand, read a stanza
here and there, turned over the leaves, turned back and tried
again,--shook his head--held it for an instant over the basket, as if
doubtful,--and let it softly drop. He took up the second manuscript,
opened it in several places, seemed rather pleased with what he read,
and laid it aside for further examination.

He took up the third. "Blossoms of the Soul," etc. He glared at it in a
dreadfully ogreish way. Both the lookers-on held their breath. Gifted
Hopkins felt as if half a glass more of that warm sherry would not hurt
him. There was a sinking at the pit of his stomach, as if he was in a
swing, as high as he could go, close up to the swallows' nests and
spiders' webs. The Butcher opened the manuscript at random, read ten
seconds, and gave a short, low grunt. He opened again, read ten seconds,
and gave another grunt, this time a little longer and louder. He opened
once more, read five seconds, and, with something that sounded like the
snort of a dangerous animal, cast it impatiently into the basket, and
took up the manuscript that came next in order.

Gifted Hopkins stood as if paralyzed for a moment.

"Safe, perfectly safe," the publisher said to him in a whisper. "I'll
get it for you presently. Come in and take another glass of wine," he
said, leading him back to his own office.

"No, I thank you," he said faintly, "I can bear it. But this is
dreadful, sir. Is this the way that genius is welcomed to the world of
letters?"

The publisher explained to him, in the kindest manner, that there was an
enormous over-production of verse, and that it took a great part of one
man's time simply to overhaul the cart-loads of it that were trying to
get themselves into print with the _imprimatur_ of his famous house.
"You're young, Mr. Hopkins. I advise you not to try to force your
article of poetry on the market. The B----, our friend, there, that is,
knows a thing that will sell as soon as he sees it. You are in
independent circumstances, perhaps? If so, you can print--at your own
expense--whatever you choose. May I take the liberty to ask
your--profession?"

Gifted explained that he was "clerk" in a "store," where they sold dry
goods and West India goods, and goods promiscuous.

"O, well, then," the publisher said, "you will understand me. Do you
know a good article of brown sugar when you see it?"

Gifted Hopkins rather thought he did. He knew at sight whether it was a
fair, salable article or not.

"Just so. Now our friend, there, knows verses that are salable and
unsalable as well as you do brown sugar.--Keep quiet now, and I will go
and get your manuscript for you.----There, Mr. Hopkins, take your
poems,--they will give you a reputation in your village, I don't doubt,
which is pleasant, but it will cost you a good deal of money to print
them in a volume. You are very young: you can afford to wait. Your
genius is not ripe yet, I am confident, Mr. Hopkins. These verses are
very well for a beginning, but a man of promise like you, Mr. Hopkins,
mustn't throw away his chance by premature publication! I should like to
make you a present of a few of the books we publish. By and by, perhaps,
we can work you into our series of poets; but the best pears ripen
slowly, and so with genius.--Where shall I send the volumes?"

Gifted answered, to parlor No. 6, Planet Hotel, where he soon presented
himself to Master Gridley, who could guess pretty well what was coming.
But he let him tell his story.

"Shall I try the other publishers?" said the disconsolate youth.

"I wouldn't, my young friend, I wouldn't. You have seen the best one of
them all. He is right about it, quite right: you are young, and had
better wait. Look here, Gifted, here is something to please you. We are
going to visit the gay world together. See what has been left here this
forenoon."

He showed him two elegant notes of invitation requesting the pleasure of
Professor Byles Gridley's and of Mr. Gifted Hopkins's company on
Thursday evening, as the guests of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 Carat
Place.


CHAPTER XXVI.

MRS. CLYMER KETCHUM'S PARTY.

Myrtle Hazard had flowered out as beyond question the handsomest girl of
the season. There were hints from different quarters that she might
possibly be an heiress. Vague stories were about of some contingency
which might possibly throw a fortune into her lap. The young men about
town talked of her at the clubs in their free-and-easy way, but all
agreed that she was the girl of the new crop,--"best filly this grass,"
as Livingston Jenkins put it. The general understanding seemed to be
that the young lawyer who had followed her to the city was going to
capture her. She seemed to favor him certainly as much as anybody. But
Myrtle saw many young men now, and it was not so easy as it would once
have been to make out who was an especial favorite.

There had been times when Murray Bradshaw would have offered his heart
and hand to Myrtle at once, if he had felt sure that she would accept
him. But he preferred playing the safe game now, and only wanted to feel
sure of her. He had done his best to be agreeable, and could hardly
doubt that he had made an impression. He dressed well when in the
city,--even elegantly,--he had many of the lesser social
accomplishments, was a good dancer, and compared favorably in all such
matters with the more dashing young fellows in society. He was a better
talker than most of them, and he knew more about the girl he was dealing
with than they could know. "You have only got to say the word, Murray,"
Mrs. Clymer Ketchum said to her relative, "and you can have her. But
don't be rash. I believe you can get Berengaria if you try; and there's
something better there than possibilities." Murray Bradshaw laughed, and
told Mrs. Clymer Ketchum not to worry about him; he knew what he was
doing.

It so happened that Myrtle met Master Byles Gridley walking with Mr.
Gifted Hopkins the day before the party. She longed to have a talk with
her old friend, and was glad to have a chance of pleasing her poetical
admirer. She therefore begged her hostess to invite them both to her
party to please her, which she promised to do at once. Thus the two
elegant notes were accounted for.

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, though her acquaintances were chiefly in the world
of fortune and of fashion, had yet a certain weakness for what she
called clever people. She therefore always variegated her parties with a
streak of young artists and writers, and a literary lady or two; and, if
she could lay hands on a first-class celebrity, was as happy as an
Amazon who had captured a Centaur.

"There's a demonish clever young fellow by the name of Lindsay," Mr.
Livingston Jenkins said to her a little before the day of the party.
"Better ask him. They say he's the rising talent in his line,
architecture mainly, but has done some remarkable things in the way of
sculpture. There's some story about a bust he made that was quite
wonderful. I'll find his address for you." So Mr. Clement Lindsay got
his invitation, and thus Mrs. Clymer Ketchum's party promised to bring
together a number of persons with whom we are acquainted, and who were
acquainted with each other.

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum knew how to give a party. Let her only have _carte
blanche_ for flowers, music, and champagne, she used to tell her lord,
and she would see to the rest,--lighting the rooms, tables, and toilet.
He needn't be afraid; all he had to do was to keep out of the way.

Subdivision of labor is one of the triumphs of modern civilization.
Labor was beautifully subdivided in this lady's household. It was old
Ketchum's business to make money, and he understood it. It was Mrs. K.'s
business to spend money, and she knew how to do it. The rooms blazed
with light like a conflagration; the flowers burned like lamps of
many-colored flame; the music throbbed into the hearts of the
promenaders and tingled through all the muscles of the dancers.

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum was in her glory. Her _point d'Alençon_ must have
spoiled ever so many French girls' eyes. Her bosom heaved beneath a kind
of breastplate glittering with a heavy dew of diamonds. She glistened
and sparkled with every movement, so that the admirer forgot to question
too closely whether the eyes matched the brilliants, or the cheeks
glowed like the roses. Not far from the great lady stood Myrtle Hazard.
She was dressed as the fashion of the day demanded, but she had added
certain audacious touches of her own, reminiscences of the time when the
dead beauty had flourished, and which first provoked the question and
then the admiration of the young people who had a natural eye for
effect. Over the long white glove on her left arm was clasped a rich
bracelet, of so quaint an antique pattern that nobody had seen anything
like it, and as some one whispered that it was "the last thing out," it
was greatly admired by the fashion-plate multitude, as well as by the
few who had a taste of their own. If the soul of Judith Pride, long
divorced from its once beautifully moulded dust, ever lived in dim
consciousness through any of those who inherited her blood, it was then
and there that she breathed through the lips of Myrtle Hazard. The young
girl almost trembled with the ecstasy of this new mode of being,
soliciting every sense with light, with perfume, with melody,--all that
could make her feel the wonderful complex music of a fresh life when all
its chords first vibrate together in harmony. Miss Rhadamantha Pinnikle,
whose mother was an Apex (of whose race it was said that they always
made an obeisance when the family name was mentioned, and had all their
portraits painted with halos round their heads), found herself
extinguished in this new radiance. Miss Victoria Capsheaf stuck to the
wall as if she had been a fresco on it. The fifty-year-old dynasties
were dismayed and dismounted. Myrtle fossilized them as suddenly as if
she had been a Gorgon, instead of a beauty.

The guests in whom we may have some interest were in the mean time
making ready for the party, which was expected to be a brilliant one;
for 24 Carat Place was well known for the handsome style of its
entertainments.

Clement Lindsay was a little surprised by his invitation. He had,
however, been made a lion of several times of late; and was very willing
to amuse himself once in a while with a peep into the great world. It
was but an empty show to him at best, for his lot was cast, and he
expected to lead a quiet domestic life after his student days were over.

Master Byles Gridley had known what society was in his earlier time, and
understood very well that all a gentleman of his age had to do was to
dress himself in his usual plain way, only taking a little more care in
his arrangements than was needed in the latitude of Oxbow Village. But
Gifted must be looked after, that he should not provoke the unamiable
comments of the city youth by any defect or extravagance of costume. The
young gentleman had bought a light sky-blue neckerchief, and a very
large breastpin containing a gem which he was assured by the vendor was
a genuine stone. He considered that both these would be eminently
effective articles of dress, and Mr. Gridley had some trouble to
convince him that a white tie and plain shirt-buttons would be more
fitted to the occasion.

On the morning of the day of the great party Mr. William Murray Bradshaw
received a brief telegram, which seemed to cause him great emotion, as
he changed color, uttered a forcible exclamation, and began walking up
and down his room in a very nervous kind of way. It was a foreshadowing
of a certain event now pretty sure to happen. Whatever bearing this
telegram may have had upon his plans, he made up his mind that he would
contrive an opportunity somehow that very evening to propose himself as
a suitor to Myrtle Hazard. He could not say that he felt as absolutely
certain of getting the right answer as he had felt at some previous
periods. Myrtle knew her price, he said to himself, a great deal better
than when she was a simple country girl. The flatteries with which she
had been surrounded, and the effect of all the new appliances of beauty,
which had set her off so that she could not help seeing her own
attractions, rendered her harder to please and to satisfy. A little
experience in society teaches a young girl the arts and the phrases
which all the Lotharios have in common. Murray Bradshaw was ready to
land his fish now, but he was not quite sure that she was yet hooked,
and he had a feeling that by this time she knew every fly in his book.
However, as he had made up his mind not to wait another day, he
addressed himself to the trial before him with a determination to
succeed, if any means at his command would insure success. He arrayed
himself with faultless elegance: nothing must be neglected on such an
occasion. He went forth firm and grave as a general going into a battle
where all is to be lost or won. He entered the blazing saloon with the
unfailing smile upon his lips, to which he set them as he set his watch
to a particular hour and minute.

The rooms were pretty well filled when he arrived and made his bow
before the blazing, rustling, glistening, waving, blushing appearance
under which palpitated, with the pleasing excitement of the magic scene
over which its owner presided, the heart of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum. He
turned to Myrtle Hazard, and if he had ever doubted which way his
inclinations led him, he could doubt no longer. How much dress and how
much light can a woman bear? That is the way to measure her beauty. A
plain girl in a simple dress, if she has only a pleasant voice, may seem
almost a beauty in the rosy twilight. The nearer she comes to being
handsome, the more ornament she will bear, and the more she may defy the
sunshine or the chandelier. Murray Bradshaw was fairly dazzled with the
brilliant effect of Myrtle in full dress. He did not know before what
handsome arms she had,--Judith Pride's famous arms, which the
high-colored young men in top-boots used to swear were the handsomest
pair in New England, right over again. He did not know before with what
defiant effect she would light up, standing as she did directly under a
huge lustre, in full flower of flame, like a burning azalea. He was not
a man who intended to let his sentiments carry him away from the serious
interests of his future, yet, as he looked upon Myrtle Hazard, his heart
gave one throb which made him feel in every pulse that this was a woman
who in her own right, simply as a woman, could challenge the homage of
the proudest young man of her time. He hardly knew till this moment how
much of passion mingled with other and calmer motives of admiration. He
could say _I love you_ as truly as such a man could ever speak these
words, meaning that he admired her, that he was attracted to her, that
he should be proud of her as his wife, that he should value himself
always as the proprietor of so rare a person, that no appendage to his
existence would take so high a place in his thoughts. This implied also,
what is of great consequence to a young woman's happiness in the married
state, that she would be treated with uniform politeness, with
satisfactory evidences of affection, and with a degree of confidence
quite equal to what a reasonable woman should expect from a very
superior man, her husband.

If Myrtle could have looked through the window in the breast against
which only authors are privileged to flatten their features, it is for
the reader to judge how far the programme would have satisfied her. Less
than this, a great deal less, does appear to satisfy many young women;
and it may be that the picture just drawn, fairly judged, belongs to a
model lover and husband. Whether it does or not; Myrtle did not see this
picture. There was a beautifully embroidered shirt-bosom in front of
that window through which we have just looked, that intercepted all
sight of what was going on within. She only saw a man, young, handsome,
courtly, with a winning tongue, with an ambitious spirit, whose every
look and tone implied his admiration of herself, and who was associated
with her past life in such a way that they alone appeared like old
friends in the midst of that cold, alien throng. It seemed as if he
could not have chosen a more auspicious hour than this; for she never
looked so captivating, and her presence must inspire his lips with the
eloquence of love. And she--was not this delirious atmosphere of light
and music just the influence to which he would wish to subject her
before trying the last experiment of all which can stir the soul of a
woman? He knew the mechanism of that impressionable state which served
Coleridge so excellently well,--

    "All impulses of soul and sense
    Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;
    The music, and the doleful tale,
      The rich and balmy eve,"--

though he hardly expected such startling results as happened in that
case,--which might be taken as an awful warning not to sing moving
ballads to young ladies of susceptible feelings, unless one is prepared
for very serious consequences. Without expecting that Myrtle would rush
into his arms, he did think that she could not help listening to him in
the intervals of the delicious music, in some recess where the roses and
jasmines and heliotropes made the air heavy with sweetness, and the
crimson curtains drooped in heavy folds that half hid their forms from
the curious eyes all round them. Her heart would swell like Genevieve's
as he told her in simple phrase that she was his life, his love, his
all,--for in some two or three words like these he meant to put his
appeal, and not in fine poetical phrases: that would do for Gifted
Hopkins and rhyming tomtits of that feather.

Full of his purpose, involving the plans of his whole life, implying, as
he saw clearly, a brilliant future or a disastrous disappointment, with
a great unexploded mine of consequences under his feet, and the spark
ready to fall into it, he walked about the gilded saloon with a smile
upon his lips so perfectly natural and pleasant, that one would have
said he was as vacant of any aim, except a sort of superficial
good-natured disposition to be amused, as the blankest-eyed simpleton
who had tied himself up in a white cravat and come to bore and be bored.

Yet under this pleasant smile his mind was so busy with its thoughts
that he had forgotten all about the guests from Oxbow Village who, as
Myrtle had told him, were to come this evening. His eye was all at once
caught by a familiar figure, and he recognized Master Byles Gridley,
accompanied by Mr. Gifted Hopkins, at the door of the saloon. He stepped
forward at once to meet and to present them.

Mr. Gridley in evening costume made an eminently dignified and
respectable appearance. There was an unusual look of benignity upon his
firmly moulded features, and an air of ease which rather surprised Mr.
Bradshaw, who did not know all the social experiences which had formed a
part of the old Master's history. The greeting between them was
courteous, but somewhat formal, as Mr. Bradshaw was acting as one of the
masters of ceremony. He nodded to Gifted in an easy way, and led them
both into the immediate Presence.

"This is my friend Professor Gridley, Mrs. Ketchum, whom I have the
honor of introducing to you,--a very distinguished scholar, as I have no
doubt you are well aware. And this is my friend Mr. Gifted Hopkins, a
young poet of distinction, whose fame will reach you by and by, if it
has not come to your ears already."

The two gentlemen went through the usual forms, the poet a little
crushed by the Presence, but doing his best. While the lady was making
polite speeches to them, Myrtle Hazard came forward. She was greatly
delighted to meet her old friend, and even looked upon the young poet
with a degree of pleasure she would hardly have expected to receive from
his company. They both brought with them so many reminiscences of
familiar scenes and events, that it was like going back for the moment
to Oxbow Village. But Myrtle did not belong to herself that evening, and
had no opportunity to enter into conversation just then with either of
them. There was to be dancing by and by, and the younger people were
getting impatient that it should begin. At last the music sounded the
well-known summons, and the floors began to ring to the tread of the
dancers. As usual on such occasions there were a large number of
non-combatants, who stood as spectators around those who were engaged in
the campaign of the evening. Mr. Byles Gridley looked on gravely,
thinking of the minuets and the gavots of his younger days. Mr. Gifted
Hopkins, who had never acquired the desirable accomplishment of dancing,
gazed with dazzled and admiring eyes at the wonderful evolutions of the
graceful performers. The music stirred him a good deal; he had also been
introduced to one or two young persons as Mr. Hopkins, the poet, and he
began to feel a kind of excitement, such as was often the prelude of a
lyric burst from his pen. Others might have wealth and beauty, he
thought to himself, but what were these to the gift of genius? In fifty
years the wealth of these people would have passed into other hands. In
fifty years all these beauties would be dead, or wrinkled and
double-wrinkled great-grandmothers. And when they were all gone and
forgotten, the name of Hopkins would be still fresh in the world's
memory. Inspiring thought! A smile of triumph rose to his lips; he felt
that the village boy who could look forward to fame as his inheritance
was richer than all the millionnaires, and that the words he should set
in verse would have a lustre in the world's memory to which the
whiteness of pearls was cloudy, and the sparkle of diamonds dull.

He raised his eyes, which had been cast down in reflection, to look upon
these less favored children of Fortune, to whom she had given nothing
but perishable inheritances. Two or three pairs of eyes, he observed,
were fastened upon him. His mouth perhaps betrayed a little
self-consciousness, but he tried to show his features in an aspect of
dignified self-possession. There seemed to be remarks and questionings
going on, which he supposed to be something like the following:--

Which is it? Which is it?--Why, that one, there,--that young
fellow,--don't you see?--What young fellow are you two looking at? Who
is he? What is he?--Why, that is _Hopkins_, the poet.--Hopkins, the
poet! Let me see him! Let _me_ see him!--Hopkins? What! Gifted Hopkins?
etc., etc.

Gifted Hopkins did not hear these words except in fancy, but he did
unquestionably find a considerable number of eyes concentrated upon him,
which he very naturally interpreted as an evidence that he had already
begun to enjoy a foretaste of the fame of which he should hereafter have
his full allowance. Some seemed to be glancing furtively, some appeared
as if they wished to speak, and all the time the number of those looking
at him seemed to be increasing. A vision came through his fancy of
himself as standing on a platform, and having persons who wished to look
upon him and shake hands with him presented, as he had heard was the way
with great people when going about the country. But this was only a
suggestion, and by no means a serious thought, for that would have
implied infatuation.

Gifted Hopkins was quite right in believing that he attracted many eyes.
At last those of Myrtle Hazard were called to him, and she perceived
that an accident was making him unenviably conspicuous. The bow of his
rather large white neck-tie had slid round and got beneath his left ear.
A not very good-natured or well-bred young fellow had pointed out the
subject of this slight misfortune to one or two others of not much
better taste or breeding, and thus the unusual attention the youthful
poet was receiving explained itself. Myrtle no sooner saw the little
accident of which her rural friend was the victim, than she left her
place in the dance with a simple courage which did her credit. "I want
to speak to you a minute," she said. "Come into this alcove."

And the courageous young lady not only told Gifted what had happened to
him, but found a pin somehow, as women always do on a pinch, and had him
in presentable condition again almost before the bewildered young man
knew what was the matter. On reflection it occurred to him, as it has to
other provincial young persons going to great cities, that he might
perhaps have been hasty in thinking himself an object of general
curiosity as yet. There had hardly been time for his name to have become
very widely known. Still, the feeling had been pleasant for the moment,
and had given him an idea of what the rapture would be, when, wherever
he went, the monster digit (to hint a classical phrase) of the
collective admiring public would be lifted to point him out, and the
whisper would pass from one to another, "That's him! That's Hopkins!"

Mr. Murray Bradshaw had been watching the opportunity for carrying out
his intentions, with his pleasant smile covering up all that was
passing in his mind, and Master Byles Gridley, looking equally
unconcerned, had been watching him. The young man's time came at last.
Some were at the supper-table, some were promenading, some were talking,
when he managed to get Myrtle a little apart from the rest, and led her
towards one of the recesses in the apartment, where two chairs were
invitingly placed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were
sparkling,--the influences to which he had trusted had not been thrown
away upon her. He had no idea of letting his purpose be seen until he
was fully ready. It required all his self-mastery to avoid betraying
himself by look or tone, but he was so natural that Myrtle was thrown
wholly off her guard. He meant to make her pleased with herself to begin
with, and that not by point-blank flattery, of which she had had more
than enough of late, but rather by suggestion and inference, so that she
should find herself feeling happy without knowing how. It would be easy
to glide from that to the impression she had produced upon him, and get
the two feelings more or less mingled in her mind. And so the simple
confession he meant to make would at length evolve itself logically, and
hold by a natural connection to the first agreeable train of thought
which he had called up. Not the way, certainly, that most young men
would arrange their great trial scene; but Murray Bradshaw was a lawyer
in love as much as in business, and considered himself as pleading a
cause before a jury of Myrtle Hazard's conflicting motives. What would
any lawyer do in a jury case, but begin by giving the twelve honest men
and true to understand, in the first place, that their intelligence and
virtue were conceded by all, and that he himself had perfect confidence
in them, and leave them to shape their verdict in accordance with these
propositions and his own side of the case?

Myrtle had, perhaps, never so seriously inclined her ear to the pleasing
accents of the young pleader. He flattered her with so much tact, that
she thought she heard an unconscious echo through his lips of an
admiration which he only shared with all around him. But in him he made
it seem discriminating, deliberate, not blind, but very real. This it
was which had led him to trust her with his ambitions and his
plans,--they might be delusions, but he could never keep them from her,
and she was the one woman in the world to whom he thought he could
safely give his confidence.

The dread moment was close at hand. Myrtle was listening with an
instinctive premonition of what was coming,--ten thousand mothers and
grandmothers and great-grandmothers, and so on, had passed through it
all in preceding generations until time reached backwards to the sturdy
savage who asked no questions of any kind, but knocked down the great
primeval grandmother of all, and carried her off to his hole in the
rock, or into the tree where he had made his nest. Why should not the
coming question announce itself by stirring in the pulses and thrilling
in the nerves of the descendant of all these grandmothers?

She was leaning imperceptibly towards him, drawn by the mere blind
elemental force, as the plummet was attracted to the side of
Schehallion. Her lips were parted, and she breathed a little faster than
so healthy a girl ought to breathe in a state of repose. The steady
nerves of William Murray Bradshaw felt unwonted thrills and tremors
tingling through them, as he came nearer and nearer the few simple words
with which he was to make Myrtle Hazard the mistress of his destiny. His
tones were becoming lower and more serious; there were slight breaks
once or twice in the conversation; Myrtle had cast down her eyes.

"There is but one word more to add," he murmured softly, as he bent
towards her--

A grave voice interrupted him. "Excuse me, Mr. Bradshaw," said Master
Byles Gridley, "I wish to present a young gentleman to my friend here. I
promised to show him the most charming young person I have the honor to
be acquainted with, and I must redeem my pledge. Miss Hazard, I have the
pleasure of introducing to your acquaintance my distinguished young
friend, Mr. Clement Lindsay."

Once more, for the third time, these two young persons stood face to
face. Myrtle was no longer liable to those nervous seizures which any
sudden impression was liable to produce when she was in her
half-hysteric state of mind and body. She turned to the new-comer, who
found himself unexpectedly submitted to a test which he would never have
risked of his own will. He must go through it, cruel as it was, with the
easy self-command which belongs to a gentleman in the most trying social
exigencies. He addressed her, therefore, in the usual terms of courtesy,
and then turned and greeted Mr. Bradshaw, whom he had never met since
their coming together at Oxbow Village. Myrtle was conscious, the
instant she looked upon Clement Lindsay, of the existence of some
peculiar relation between them; but what, she could not tell. Whatever
it was, it broke the charm that had been weaving between her and Murray
Bradshaw. He was not foolish enough to make a scene. What fault could he
find with Clement Lindsay, who had only done as any gentleman would do
with a lady to whom he had just been introduced,--addressed a few polite
words to her? After saying those words, Clement had turned very
courteously to him, and they had spoken with each other. But Murray
Bradshaw could not help seeing that Myrtle had transferred her
attention, at least for the moment, from him to the new-comer. He folded
his arms and waited,--but he waited in vain. The hidden attraction which
drew Clement to the young girl with whom he had passed into the Valley
of the Shadow of Death overmastered all other feelings, and he gave
himself up to the fascination of her presence.

The inward rage of Murray Bradshaw at being interrupted just at the
moment when he was, as he thought, about to cry checkmate and finish the
first great game he had ever played, may well be imagined. But it could
not be helped. Myrtle had exercised the customary privilege of young
ladies at parties, and had turned from talking with one to talking with
another,--that was all. Fortunately for him the young man who had been
introduced at such a most critical moment was not one from whom he need
apprehend any serious interference. He felt grateful beyond measure to
pretty Susan Posey, who, as he had good reason for believing, retained
her hold upon her early lover, and was looking forward with bashful
interest to the time when she should become Mrs. Lindsay. It was better
to put up quietly with his disappointment; and, if he could get no
favorable opportunity that evening to resume his conversation at the
interesting point where he left it off, he would call the next day and
bring matters to a conclusion.

He called accordingly, the next morning, but was disappointed in not
seeing Myrtle. She had hardly slept that night, and was suffering from a
bad headache, which last reason was her excuse for not seeing company.

He called again, the following day, and learned that Miss Hazard had
just left the city, and gone on a visit to Oxbow Village.




PROPHETIC VOICES ABOUT AMERICA: A MONOGRAPH.


The discovery of America by Christopher Columbus is the greatest event
of all secular history. Besides the potato, the turkey, and maize, which
it introduced at once for the nourishment and comfort of the Old World,
this discovery opened the door to influences infinite in extent and
beneficence. Measure them, describe them, picture them, you cannot.
While this continent was unknown, imagination invested it with
proverbial magnificence. It was the Orient. When afterwards it took its
place in geography, imagination found another field in trying to portray
its future history. If the Golden Age is before, and not behind, as is
now happily the prevailing faith, then indeed must America share at
least, if it does not monopolize, the promised good.

Before the voyage of Columbus in 1492, nothing of America was really
known. A few scraps from antiquity, a few rumors from the ocean, and a
few speculations from science, were all that the inspired navigator
found to guide him. Foremost among all these were the well-known verses
of the Spaniard Seneca, in the chorus of his "Medea," which for
generations had been the finger-point to an undiscovered world.

    "Venient annis sæcula seris
    Quibus Oceanus vincula rerum
    Laxet, et ingens pateat tellus,
    Tethysque novos detegat orbes;
    Nec sit terris ultima Thule."[1]

"In tardy years the epoch will come in which the ocean will unloose the
bonds of nature, and the great earth will stretch out, and the sea will
disclose new worlds; nor will Thule be the most remote on the globe."

Two, if not more, different copies of these verses are extant in the
handwriting of Columbus,--precious autographs; one in the sketch of his
work on the Prophecies, another in a letter addressed to Queen Isabella;
and it would seem as if there was still a third entered among his
observations of lunar eclipses at Hayti and Jamaica. By these verses the
great discoverer sailed. But Humboldt, who has illustrated the
enterprise with all that classical or mediæval literature affords,[2]
does not hesitate to declare his conviction, that the discovery of a new
continent was more completely foreshadowed in the simple geographical
statement of the Greek Strabo, who, after a long life of travel, sat
down in the eighty-fourth year of his age, during the reign of Augustus,
to write the geography of the world, including its cosmography. In this
work, where are gathered the results of ancient study and experience,
the venerable author, after alluding to the possibility of passing
direct from Spain to India, and explaining that the inhabited world is
that which we inhabit and know, thus lifts the curtain: "There may be in
the same temperate zone _two and indeed more inhabited lands_,
especially nearest the parallel of Thinæ or Athens, prolonged into the
Atlantic Ocean."[3] This was the voice of ancient science.

Before the voyage of Columbus, Pulci, the Italian poet, in his _Morgante
Maggiore_, sometimes called the last of the romances and the earliest of
the Italian epics, reveals an undiscovered world beyond the Pillars of
Hercules.

    "Know that this theory is false; _his bark
    The daring mariner shall urge far o'er
    The western wave, a smooth and level plain_,
    Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel.
    Man was in ancient days of grosser mould,
    And Hercules might blush to learn how far
    _Beyond the limits he had vainly set
    The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way_.

    "_Men shall descry another hemisphere_,
    Since to one common centre all things tend;
    So earth, by curious mystery divine
    Well balanced, hangs amid the starry spheres.
    _At our Antipodes are cities, states,
    And thronged empires, ne'er divined of yore._
    But see, the sun speeds on his western path
    To glad the nations with expected light."[4]

This translation is by our own eminent historian, Prescott, who first
called attention to this testimony,[5] which is not mentioned even by
Humboldt. Leigh Hunt referred to it at a later day.[6] Pulci was born in
Florence, 1431, and died there, 1487, five years before Columbus sailed,
so that he was not aided by any rumor of the discovery which he so
distinctly predicts.

Passing from the discovery, it may not be uninteresting to collect some
of the prophetic voices about the future of America, the "All-Hail
Hereafter" of our continent. They will have a lesson also. Seeing what
has been already fulfilled, we may better judge what to expect. I shall
set them forth in the order of time, prefacing each prediction with an
account of the author sufficient to explain its origin and character. If
some are already familiar, others are little known. Brought together
into one body, on the principle of our national Union, _E pluribus
unum_, they must give new confidence in the destinies of the Republic.

Of course I shall embrace only what has been said seriously by those
whose words are important; not an oracular response, which may receive a
double interpretation, like the deceptive replies to Croesus and to
Pyrrhus; and not a saying, such as is described by Sir Thomas Browne
when he remarks, in his "Christian Morals," that "many positions seem
quodlibetically constituted, and, like a Delphian blade, will cut both
ways."[7] Men who have lived much and felt strongly see further than
others. Their vision penetrates the future. Second sight is little more
than clearness of sight. Milton tells us,

    "That old experience does attain
    To something like prophetic strain."

Sometimes this strain is attained even in youth.


SIR THOMAS BROWNE.--1682.

Dr. Johnson called attention to a tract of Sir Thomas Browne entitled,
"A Prophecy concerning the Future State of Several Nations," where the
famous author "plainly discovers his expectation to be the same with
that entertained later with more confidence by Dr. Berkeley, _that
America will be the seat of the fifth empire_."[8] The tract is vague,
but prophetic.

Sir Thomas Browne was born 19th October, 1605, and died 19th October,
1682. His tract was published, two years after his death, in a
collection of Miscellanies, edited by Dr. Tenison. As a much-admired
author, some of whose writings belong to our English classics, his
prophetic prolusions are not unworthy of notice. They are founded on
verses entitled "The Prophecy," purporting to have been sent to him by a
friend. Among these are the following:--

    "When New England shall trouble New Spain,
    When Jamaica shall be lady of the isles and the main;
    When Spain shall be in America hid,
    And Mexico shall prove a Madrid;
    _When Africa shall no more sell out their blacks
    To make slaves and drudges to the American tracts_;

       *       *       *       *       *

    _When America shall cease to send out its treasure,
    But employ it at home in American pleasure;
    When the New World shall the Old invade,
    Nor count them their lords but their fellows in trade_;

           *       *       *       *       *

    Then think strange things have come to light,
    Whereof but few have had a foresight."[9]

Some of these words are striking, especially when we consider their
early date. The author of the "Religio Medici" seems in the main to
accept the prophecy. In a commentary on each verse he seeks to explain
it. New England is "that thriving colony which hath so much increased in
his day"; its people are already "industrious," and when they have so
far increased "that the neighboring country will not contain them, they
will range still farther, and be able in time to set forth great
armies, seek for new possessions, or _make considerable and conjoined
migrations_." The verse about Africa will be fulfilled "when African
countries shall no longer make it a common trade to sell away their
people." And this may come to pass "whenever they shall be well
civilized and acquainted with arts and affairs sufficient to employ
people in their countries." It would also come to pass "if they should
be converted to Christianity, but especially into Mahometism; for then
they would never sell those of their religion to be slaves unto
Christians." The verse about America is expounded as follows:--

"That is, when America shall be better civilized, new policied, and
divided between great princes, it may come to pass that they will no
longer suffer their treasure of gold and silver to be sent out to
maintain the luxury of Europe and other ports; but rather employ it to
their own advantages, in great exploits and undertakings, magnificent
structures, wars, or expeditions of their own."[10]

The other verse, on the invasion of the Old World by the New, is thus
explained:--

"That is, when America shall be so well peopled, civilized, and divided
into kingdoms, _they are like to have so little regard of their
originals as to acknowledge no subjection unto them_; they may also have
a distinct commerce themselves, or but independently with those of
Europe, and may hostilely and piratically assault them, even as the
Greek and Roman colonies after a long time dealt with their original
countries."[11]

That these speculations should arrest the attention of Dr. Johnson is
something. They seem to have been in part fulfilled. An editor remarks
that, "To judge from the course of events since Sir Thomas wrote, we may
not unreasonably look forward to their more complete fulfilment."[12]


BISHOP BERKELEY.--1726.

It is pleasant to think that Berkeley, whose beautiful verses predicting
the future of America are so often quoted, was so sweet and charming a
character. Atterbury wrote of him, "So much understanding, knowledge,
innocence, and humility I should have thought confined to angels, had I
never seen this gentleman." Swift said, "He is an absolute philosopher
with regard to money, title, and power." Pope let drop a tribute which
can never die, when he said,

    "To Berkeley every virtue under Heaven."

Such a person was naturally a seer.

He is compendiously called an Irish prelate and philosopher; he was born
in Kilkenny, 1684, and died in Oxford, 1753. He began as a philosopher.
While still young, he wrote his famous treatise on "The Principles of
Human Knowledge," in which he denies the existence of matter, insisting
that it is only an impression produced on the mind by Divine power.
After travel for several years on the Continent, and fellowship with the
witty and learned at home, among whom were Addison, Swift, Pope, Garth,
and Arbuthnot, he conceived the project of educating the aborigines of
America, which was set forth in a tract, published in 1725, entitled,
"Scheme for Converting the Savage Americans to Christianity by a College
to be erected in the Summer Islands, otherwise called the Isles of
Bermuda." Persuaded by his benevolence, the ministers promised twenty
thousand pounds, and there were several private subscriptions to promote
what was called by the king "so pious an undertaking." Berkeley
possessed already a deanery in Ireland, with one thousand pounds a year.
Turning away from this residence, and refusing to be tempted by an
English mitre, offered by the queen, he set sail for Rhode Island,
"which lay nearest Bermuda," where, after a tedious passage of five
months, he arrived, 23d January, 1729. Here he lived on a farm back of
Newport, having been, according to his own report, "at great expense
for land and stock." In familiar letters he has given his impression of
this place, famous since for fashion. "The climate," he says, "is like
that of Italy, and not at all colder in the winter than I have known it
everywhere north of Rome. This island is pleasantly laid out in hills
and vales and rising grounds, hath plenty of excellent springs and fine
rivulets and many delightful landscapes of rocks and promontories and
adjacent lands. The town of Newport contains about six thousand souls,
and is the most thriving, flourishing place in all America for its
bigness. It is very pretty and pleasantly situated. I was never more
agreeably surprised than at the first sight of the town and its
harbor."[13] He seems to have been contented here, and when his
companions went to Boston stayed at home, "preferring," as he wrote,
"quiet and solitude to the noise of a great town, notwithstanding all
the solicitations that have been used to draw us thither."[14]

The money which he had expected, especially from the ministry, failed,
and after waiting in vain expectation two years and a half, he returned
to England, leaving an infant son buried in the yard of Trinity Church,
and bestowing upon Yale College a library of eight hundred and eighty
volumes, as well as his estate in Rhode Island. During his residence at
Newport he had preached every Sunday, and was indefatigable in pastoral
duties, besides meditating, if not composing, "The Minute Philosopher,"
which was published shortly after his return.

He had not been forgotten at home during his absence; and shortly after
his return he became Bishop of Cloyne, in which place he was most
exemplary, devoting himself to his episcopal duties, to the education of
his children, and the pleasures of composition.

It was while occupied with his plan of a college, especially as a
nursery for the Colonial churches, shortly before sailing for America,
that the future seemed to be revealed to him, and he wrote the famous
poem, the only one to be found among his works, entitled, "Verses on the
Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America."[15] The date may be
fixed at 1726. Such a poem was an historic event. I give the first and
last stanzas.

    "The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime
      Barren of every glorious theme,
    _In distant lands now waits a better_,
      _Producing subjects worthy fame_.

           *       *       *       *       *

    "_Westward the course of empire takes its way_;
      The first four acts already past,
    A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
      Time's noblest offspring is the last."

It is difficult to exaggerate the value of these verses, which have been
so often quoted as to become one of the commonplaces of literature and
politics. There is nothing from any oracle, there is very little from
any prophecy, which can compare with them. The biographer of Berkeley,
who wrote in the last century, was very cautious, when, after calling
them "a beautiful copy of verses," he says that "another age will,
perhaps, acknowledge the old conjunction of the prophetic character with
that of the poet to have again taken place."[16] The _vates_ of the
Romans was poet and prophet; and such was Berkeley.

The sentiment which prompted the prophetic verses of the good Bishop was
widely diffused; or, perhaps, it was a natural prompting.[17] Of this an
illustration is afforded in the life of Benjamin West. On his visit to
Rome in 1760, the young artist encountered a famous improvvisatore, who,
on learning that he was an American come to study the fine arts in Rome,
at once addressed him with the ardor of inspiration, and to the music of
his guitar. After singing the darkness which for so many ages veiled
America from the eyes of science, and also the fulness of time when the
purposes for which America had been raised from the deep would be
manifest, he hailed the youth before him as an instrument of Heaven to
raise there a taste for those arts which elevate man, and an assurance
of refuge to science and knowledge, when, in the old age of Europe, they
should have forsaken her shores. Then, in the spirit of prophecy, he
sang:--

"_But all things of heavenly origin, like the glorious sun, move
westward_; and truth and art have their periods of shining and of night.
Rejoice then, O venerable Rome, in thy divine destiny; for though
darkness overshadow thy seats, and though thy mitred head must descend
into the dust, _thy spirit immortal and undecayed already spreads
towards a new world_."[18]

John Adams, in his old age; dwelling on the reminiscences of early life,
records that nothing was "more ancient in his memory than the
observation that arts, sciences, and empire had travelled westward, and
in conversation it was always added, since he was a child, that their
next leap would be over the Atlantic into America." With the assistance
of an octogenarian neighbor, he recalled a couplet that had been
repeated with rapture as long as he could remember:--

    "The Eastern nations sink, their glory ends,
    And empire rises where the sun descends."

It was imagined by his neighbor that these lines came from some of our
early pilgrims,--by whom they had been "inscribed, or rather drilled,
into a rock on the shore of Monument Bay in our old Colony of
Plymouth."[19]

Another illustration of this same sentiment will be found in Burnaby's
"Travels through the Middle Settlements of North America, in 1759 and
1760," a work which was first published in 1775. In his reflections at
the close of his book the traveller thus remarks:--

"An idea, strange as it is visionary, has entered into the minds of the
generality of mankind, _that empire is travelling westward: and every
one is looking forward with eager and impatient expectation to that
destined moment when America is to give the law to the rest of the
world_."[20]

The traveller is none the less an authority for the prevalence of this
sentiment because he declares it "illusory and fallacious," and records
his conviction that "America is formed for happiness, but not for
empire." Happy America! What empire can compare with happiness! But, to
make amends for this admission, the jealous traveller, in his edition of
1796, after the adoption of our Constitution, announces that "the
present union of American States will not be permanent, or last for any
considerable length of time," and "that that extensive country must
necessarily be divided into separate states and kingdoms."[21] Thus far
the Union has stood against all shocks, foreign or domestic; and the
prophecy of Berkeley is more than ever in the popular mind.


TURGOT.--1750.

Among the illustrious names of France there are few equal to that of
Turgot. He was a philosopher among ministers, and a minister among
philosophers. Malesherbes said of him, that he had the heart of
L'Hôpital and the head of Bacon. Such a person in public affairs was an
epoch for his country and for the human race. Had his spirit prevailed,
the bloody drama of the French Revolution would not have occurred, or it
would at least have been postponed. I think it could not have occurred.
He was a good man, who sought to carry into government the rules of
goodness. His career from beginning to end was one continuous
beneficence. Such a nature was essentially prophetic, for he discerned
the natural laws by which the future is governed.

He was of an ancient Norman family, whose name suggests the _god Thor_;
he was born at Paris, 1727, and died, 1781. Being a younger son, he was
destined for the Church, and commenced his studies as an ecclesiastic
at the ancient Sorbonne. Before registering an irrevocable vow, he
announced his repugnance to the profession, and turned aside to other
pursuits. Law, literature, science, humanity, government, now engaged
his attention. He associated himself with the writers of the
Encyclopædia, and became one of its contributors. In other writings he
vindicated especially the virtue of toleration. Not merely a theorist,
he soon arrived at the high post of intendant of Limousin, where he
developed a remarkable talent for administration, and a sympathy with
the people. He introduced the potato into that province. But he
continued to employ his pen, especially on questions of political
economy, which he treated as a master. On the accession of Louis XVI. he
was called to the cabinet as Minister of the Marine, and shortly
afterwards he gave up this place to be the head of the finances. Here he
began a system of rigid economy, founded on a curtailment of expenses
and an enlargement of resources. The latter was obtained especially by a
removal of disabilities from trade, whether at home or abroad, and the
substitution of a single tax on land for a complex multiplicity of
taxes. The enemies of progress were too strong at that time, and the
king dismissed the reformer. Good men in France became anxious for the
future; Voltaire, in his distant retreat, gave a shriek of despair, and
addressed to Turgot some remarkable verses entitled _Épître à un Homme_.
Worse still, the good edicts of the minister were rescinded, and society
was put back.

The discarded minister gave himself to science, literature, and
friendship. He welcomed Franklin to France and to immortality in a Latin
verse of marvellous felicity. He was already the companion of the
liberal spirits who were doing so much for knowledge and for reform. By
writing and by conversation he exercised a constant influence. His
"ideas" seem to illumine the time. We may be content to follow him in
saying, "The glory of arms cannot compare with the happiness of living
in peace." He anticipated our definition of a republic, when he said "it
was formed upon the _equality of all the citizens_,"--good words, not
yet practically verified in all our States. Such a government he, living
under a monarchy, bravely pronounced the best of all; but he added that
he "had never known a constitution truly republican." This was in 1778.
With similar plainness he announced that "the destruction of the Ottoman
empire would be a real good for all the nations of Europe," and--he
added still further--for humanity also, because it would involve the
abolition of negro slavery, and because to strip "our oppressors is not
to attack, but to vindicate, the common rights of humanity." With such
thoughts and aspirations, the prophet died.

But I have no purpose of writing a biography, or even a character. All
that I intend is an introduction to Turgot's prophetic words relating to
America. When only twenty-three years of age, while still an
ecclesiastic at the Sorbonne, the future minister delivered a discourse
on the Progress of the Human Mind, in which, after describing the
commercial triumphs of the ancient Phoenicians, covering the coasts of
Greece and Asia with their colonies, he lets drop these remarkable
words:--

"Les colonies sont comme des fruits qui ne tiennent à l'arbre que
jusqu'à leur maturité; devenues suffisantes à elles-mêmes, elles firent
ce que fit depuis Carthage,--_ce que fera un jour l'Amérique_."[22]

"Colonies are like fruits, which hold to the tree only until their
maturity; when sufficient for themselves, they did that which Carthage
afterwards did,--_that which some day America will do_."

On this most suggestive declaration, Dupont de Nemours, the editor of
Turgot's works, published in 1808, remarks in a note as follows:--

"It was in 1750 that M. Turgot, being then only twenty-three years old,
and devoted in a seminary to the study of theology, divined, foresaw the
revolution which has formed the United States,--which has detached them
from the European power apparently the most capable of retaining its
colonies under its domination."

At the time Turgot wrote, Canada was a French possession; but his words
are as applicable to this colony as to the United States. When will this
fruit be ripe?


JOHN ADAMS.--1755, 1776, 1780, 1785, 1787.

Next in time among the prophets was John Adams, who has left on record
at different dates several predictions which show a second-sight of no
common order. Of his life I need say nothing, except that he was born
19th October, 1735, and died 4th July, 1826. I mention the predictions
in the order of their utterance.

1. While teaching a school at Worcester, and when under twenty years of
age, he wrote a letter to one of his youthful companions, _bearing date
12th October, 1755_, which is a marvel of foresight. Fifty-two years
afterwards, when already much of its prophecy had been fulfilled, the
original was returned to its author by the son of his early comrade and
correspondent, Nathan Webb, who was at the time dead. In this letter,
after remarking gravely on the rise and fall of nations, with
illustrations from Carthage and Rome, he proceeds:--

"England began to increase in power and magnificence, and is now the
greatest nation of the globe. Soon after the Reformation, a few people
came over into this New World for conscience' sake. Perhaps this
apparently trivial incident _may transfer the great seat of empire to
America. It looks likely to me_; for if we can remove the turbulent
Gallics, our people, according to the exactest computations, will, in
another century, become more numerous than England itself. Should this
be the case, since we have, I may say, all the naval stores of the
nations in our hands, it will be easy to obtain the mastery of the seas;
and then the united force of all Europe will not be able to subdue us.
The only way to keep us from setting up for ourselves is to disunite us.
_Divide et impera._ Keep us in distinct colonies, and then, some great
men in each colony desiring the monarchy of the whole, they will destroy
each others' influence, and keep the country _in equilibrio_."[23]

On this letter his son, John Quincy Adams, remarks:--

"Had the political part of it been written by the minister of state of a
European monarchy, at the close of a long life spent in the government
of nations, it would have been pronounced worthy of the united wisdom of
a Burleigh, a Sully, or an Oxenstiern.... _In one bold outline he has
exhibited by anticipation a long succession of prophetic history, the
fulfilment of which is barely yet in progress, responding exactly
hitherto to his foresight_, but the full accomplishment of which is
reserved for the development of after ages. The extinction of the power
of France in America, the union of the British North American Colonies,
the achievement of their independence, and the establishment of their
ascendency in the community of civilized nations by the means of their
naval power, are all foreshadowed in this letter, with a clearness of
perception and a distinctness of delineation which time has done little
more than to convert into historical fact."[24]

2. The Declaration of Independence bears date 4th July, 1776, for on
that day it was signed; but the vote which determined it was on the 2d
July. _On the 3d July_, John Adams, in a letter to his wife, wrote as
follows:--

"Yesterday the greatest question was decided which ever was debated in
America, and a greater, perhaps, never was nor will be decided among
men.... I am surprised at the suddenness as well as greatness of this
revolution. Britain has been filled with folly, and America with wisdom.
At least this is my judgment. Time must determine. _It is the will of
Heaven that the two countries should be sundered forever_.... The day is
past. The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in
the history of America. _I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated
by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival._ It ought
to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of
devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and
parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and
illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this
time forward, forevermore. You will think me transported with
enthusiasm, but I am not. I am well aware of the toil and blood and
treasure that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration, and support
and defend these States. _Yet, through all the gloom, I can see the ray
of ravishing light and glory; and that posterity will triumph in that
day's transaction_, even although we should rue it, which I trust in God
we shall not."[25]

Here is a comprehensive prophecy, first, that the two countries would be
separated forever; secondly, that the anniversary of Independence would
be celebrated as a great annual festival; and, thirdly, that posterity
would triumph in this transaction, where, through all the gloom, shone
rays of ravishing light and glory; all of which has been fulfilled to
the letter. Recent events give to the Declaration additional importance.
For a long time its great promises that all men are equal, and that
rightful government stands only on the consent of the governed, were
disowned by our country. Now that at last they are beginning to prevail,
there is increased reason to celebrate the day on which the mighty
Declaration was made, and new occasion for triumph in the rays of
ravishing light and glory.

3. Here is another prophetic passage in a letter _dated at Paris, 13th
July, 1780_, and addressed to the Count de Vergennes of France, pleading
the cause of the colonists:--

"The United States of America are a great and powerful people, whatever
European statesmen may think of them. If we take into our estimate the
numbers and the character of her people, the extent, variety, and
fertility of her soil, her commerce, and her skill and materials for
ship-building, and her seamen, excepting France, Spain, England,
Germany, and Russia, there is not a state in Europe so powerful.
Breaking off such a nation as this from the English so suddenly, and
uniting it so closely with France, is one of the most extraordinary
events that ever happened among mankind."[26]

Perhaps this may be considered a statement rather than a prophecy; but
it illustrates the prophetic character of the writer.

4. In an official letter to the President of Congress, _dated at
Amsterdam, 5th September, 1780_, the same writer, while proposing an
American Academy for refining, improving, and ascertaining the English
language, thus predicts the extension of this language:--

"_English is destined to be in the next and succeeding centuries more
generally the language of the world than Latin was in the last or French
is in the present age._ The reason of this is obvious,--because the
increasing population in America, and their universal connection and
correspondence with all nations, will, aided by the influence of England
in the world, whether great or small, force their language into general
use, in spite of all the obstacles that may be thrown in their way, if
any such there should be."[27]

In another letter of an unofficial character, _dated at Amsterdam, 23d
September, 1780_, he thus repeats his prophecy:--

"You must know _I have undertaken to prophesy that English will be the
most respectable language in the world, and the most universally read
and spoken in the next century, if not before the close of this_.
American population will in the next age produce a greater number of
persons who will speak English than any other language, and these
persons will have more general acquaintance and conversation with all
other nations than any other people."[28]

This prophecy is already accomplished. Of all the European languages,
English is most extensively spoken. Through England and the United
States it has become the language of commerce, which, sooner or later,
must embrace the globe. The German philologist, Grimm, has followed our
American prophet in saying that it "seems chosen, like its people, to
rule in future times in a still greater degree in all the corners of the
earth."[29]

5. There is another prophecy, at once definite and broad, which
proceeded from the same eminent quarter. In a letter _dated London, 17th
October, 1785_, and addressed to John Jay, who was at the time Secretary
for Foreign Affairs under the Confederation, John Adams reveals his
conviction of the importance of France to us, "while England held a
province in America";[30] and then, in another letter, _dated 21st
October, 1785_, reports the saying of people about him, "_that Canada
and Nova Scotia must soon be ours_; there must be war for it; they know
how it will end, but the sooner the better. This done, we shall be
forever at peace; till then, never."[31] These intimations foreshadow
the prophecy which will be found in the Preface to his "Defence of the
American Constitutions," written in London, while he was Minister there,
and _dated at Grosvenor Square, 1st January, 1787_:--

"The United States of America have exhibited, perhaps, the first example
of governments erected on the simple principles of nature.... Thirteen
governments thus founded on the natural authority of the people alone,
without a pretence of miracle or mystery, and _which are destined to
spread over the northern part of that whole quarter of the globe_, are a
great point gained in favor of the rights of mankind. The experiment is
made, and has completely succeeded."[32]

Here is foretold nothing less than that our system of government is to
embrace the whole continent of North America.


GALIANI.--1776, 1778.

Among the most brilliant persons in this list is the Abbé Galiani, a
Neapolitan, who was born in 1728, and died at Naples in 1787. Although
Italian by birth, yet by the accident of official residence he became
for a while domesticated in France, wrote the French language, and now
enjoys a French reputation. His writings in French and his letters have
the wit and ease of Voltaire.

Galiani was a genius. Whatever he touched shone at once with his
brightness, in which there was originality as well as knowledge. He was
a finished scholar, and very successful in lapidary verses. Early in
life, while in Italy, he wrote a grave essay on Money, which contrasted
with another of rare humor suggested by the death of the public
executioner. Other essays followed, and then came the favor of that
congenial pontiff, Benedict XIV. In 1760 he found himself at Paris, as
Secretary of the Neapolitan Embassy. Here he mingled with the courtiers
officially, according to the duties of his position, but he fraternized
with the liberal and sometimes audacious spirits who exercised such an
influence over society and literature. He was soon recognized as one of
them, and as inferior to none. His petty stature was forgotten, when he
conversed with inexhaustible faculties of all kinds, so that he seemed
an Encyclopædia, Harlequin, and Machiavelli all in one. The atheists at
the Thursday dinner of D'Holbach were confounded, while he enforced the
existence of God. Into the questions of political economy which occupied
attention at the time he entered with a pen which seemed borrowed from
the French Academy. His _Dialogues sur le Commerce des Blés_ had the
success of a romance; ladies carried this book on corn in their
work-baskets. Returning to Naples, he continued to live in Paris through
his correspondence, especially with Madame d'Epinay, the Baron
d'Holbach, Diderot, and Grimm.[33]

Among his later works, after his return to Naples, was a solid
volume--not to be forgotten in the History of International Law--on the
"Rights of Neutrals," where a difficult subject is treated with such
mastery that, half a century later, D'Hautefeuille, in his elaborate
treatise, copies from it at length. Galiani was the predecessor of this
French writer in the extreme assertion of neutral rights. Other works
were left at his death in manuscript, some grave and some humorous; also
letters without number. The letters he had preserved from Italian
_savans_ filled eight large volumes; those from _savans_, ministers, and
sovereigns abroad filled fourteen. His Parisian correspondence did not
see the light till 1818, although some of the letters may be found in
the contemporary correspondence of Grimm.

In his Parisian letters, which are addressed chiefly to that clever
individuality, Madame d'Epinay, the Neapolitan Abbé shows not only the
brilliancy and nimbleness of his talent, but the universality of his
knowledge and the boldness of his speculations. Here are a few words
from a letter dated at Naples, 12th October, 1776, in which he brings
forward the idea of "races," so important in our day, with an
illustration from Russia:--

"_All depends on races._ The first, the most noble of races, comes
naturally from the North of Asia. The Russians are the nearest to it,
and this is the reason why they have made more progress in fifty years
than can be got out of the Portuguese in five hundred."[34]

Belonging to the Latin race, Galiani was entitled to speak thus freely.

1. In another letter to Madame d'Epinay, _dated at Naples, 18th May,
1776_, he had already foretold the success of our Revolution. Few
prophets have been more explicit than he was in the following passage:--

"Livy said of his age, which so much resembled ours, 'Ad hæc tempora
ventum est quibus, nec vitia nostra, nec remedia pati possumus,'--'We
are in an age where the remedies hurt as much as the vices.' Do you know
the reality? _The epoch has come of the total fall of Europe, and of
transmigration into America._ All here turns into rottenness,--religion,
laws, arts, sciences,--and all hastens to renew itself in America. This
is not a jest; nor is it an idea drawn from the English quarrels; I have
said it, announced it, preached it, for more than twenty years, and I
have constantly seen my prophecies come to pass. _Therefore, do not buy
your house in the Chaussée d'Antin; you must buy it in Philadelphia._ My
trouble is that there are no abbeys in America."[35]

This letter was written some months before the Declaration of
Independence was known in Europe.

2. In another letter, _dated at Naples, 7th February, 1778_, the Abbé
alludes to the "quantities" of English men and women who have come to
Naples "for shelter from the American tempest," and adds, "Meanwhile the
Washingtons and Hancocks will be fatal to them."[36] In still another,
_dated at Naples, 25 July, 1778_, he renews his prophecies in language
still more explicit:--

"You will at this time have decided the greatest revolution of the
globe; namely, _if it is America which is to reign over Europe, or if it
is Europe which is to continue to reign over America_. I will wager in
favor of America, for the reason merely physical, that for five thousand
years genius has turned opposite to the diurnal motion, and travelled
from the East to the West."[37]

Here again is the idea of Berkeley which has been so captivating.


ADAM SMITH.--1776.

In contrast with the witty Italian is the illustrious philosopher and
writer of Scotland, Adam Smith, who was born 5th June, 1723, and died
17th July, 1790. His fame is so commanding that any details of his life
or works would be out of place on this occasion. He was a thinker and an
inventor, through whom mankind was advanced in knowledge.

I say nothing of his "Theory of Moral Sentiments," which constitutes an
important contribution to the science of ethics, but come at once to his
great work of political economy, entitled "Inquiry into the Nature and
Sources of the Wealth of Nations," which first appeared in 1776. Its
publication marks an epoch which is described by Mr. Buckle when he
says: "Adam Smith contributed more, by the publication of this single
work, toward the happiness of man, than has been effected by the united
abilities of all the statesmen and legislators of whom history has
preserved an authentic account." The work is full of prophetic
knowledge, and especially with regard to the British colonies. Writing
while the debate with the mother country was still pending, Adam Smith
urged that they should be admitted to Parliamentary representation in
proportion to taxation, so that their representation would enlarge with
their growing resources; and here he predicts nothing less than the
transfer of empire.

"The distance of America from the seat of government, the natives of
that country might flatter themselves, with some appearance of reason
too, would not be of very long continuance. Such has hitherto been the
rapid progress of that country in wealth, population, and improvement,
that, in the course of little more than a century, perhaps, the produce
of America might exceed that of British taxation. _The seat of the
empire would then naturally remove itself to that part of the empire
which contributed most to the general defence and support of the
whole._"[38]

In these tranquil words of assured science this great author carries the
seat of government across the Atlantic.


GOVERNOR POWNALL.--1777, 1780, 1785.

Among the best friends of our country abroad during the trials of the
Revolution was Thomas Pownall, called by one biographer "a learned
antiquary and politician," and by another "an English statesman and
author." Latterly he has so far dropped out of sight, that there are few
who recognize in him either of these characters. He was born, 1722, and
died at Bath, 1805. During this long period he held several offices. As
early as 1745 he became secretary to the Commission for Trade and
Plantations. In 1753 he crossed the ocean. In 1755, as Commissioner for
Massachusetts Bay, he negotiated with New York, New Jersey, and
Pennsylvania, in union with New England, the confederated expedition
against Crown Point. He was afterwards Governor of Massachusetts Bay,
New Jersey, and South Carolina, successively. Returning to England, he
was, in 1761, Comptroller-General of the army in Germany, with the
military rank of Colonel. He sat in three successive Parliaments until
1780, when he passed into private life. Hildreth gives a glimpse at his
personal character, when, admitting his frank manners and liberal
politics, he describes his "habits as rather freer than suited the New
England standard."[39]

Pownall stands forth conspicuous for his championship of our national
independence, and especially for his foresight with regard to our
national future. In both these respects his writings are unique. Other
Englishmen were in favor of our independence, and saw our future also;
but I doubt if any one can be named who was his equal in strenuous
action, or in minuteness of foresight. While the war was still
proceeding, as early as 1780, he openly announced, not only that
independence was inevitable, but that the new nation, "founded in nature
and built up in truth," would continually expand; that its population
would increase and multiply; that a civilizing activity beyond what
Europe could ever know would animate it; and that its commercial and
naval power would be found in every quarter of the globe. All this he
set forth at length with argument and illustration, and he called his
prophetic words "the _stating of the simple fact_, so little understood
in the Old World." Treated at first as "unintelligible speculation" and
as "unfashionable," the truth he announced was neglected where it was
not rejected, but generally rejected as inadmissible, and the author,
according to his own language, "was called by the wise men of the
British Cabinet _a Wild Man_, unfit to be employed." But these writings
are a better title now than any office. In manner they are diffuse and
pedantic; but they hardly deserve the cold judgment of John Adams, who
in his old age said of them, that "a reader who has patience to search
for good sense in an uncouth and disgusting style will find in those
writings proofs of a thinking mind."[40]

He seems to have written a good deal. But the works which will be
remembered the longest are not even mentioned by several of his
biographers. Rose, in his Biographical Dictionary, records works by him,
entitled Antiquities of Ancient Greece; Roman Antiquities dug up at
Bath; Observations on the Currents of the Ocean; Intellectual Physics;
and also contributions to the _Archæologia_. Gorton in his Biographical
Dictionary adds some other titles to this list. But neither mentions his
works on America. This is another instance where the stone rejected by
the builders becomes the head of the corner.

At an early date Pownall comprehended the position of our country,
geographically. He saw the wonderful means of internal communication
supplied by its inland waters, and also the opportunities of external
commerce supplied by the Atlantic Ocean. On the first he dwells, in a
memorial _drawn-up in 1756_ for the Duke of Cumberland.[41] Nobody in
our own day, after the experience of more than a century, has portrayed
more vividly the two masses of waters,--one composed of the great lakes
and their dependencies, and the other of the Mississippi and its
tributaries. The great lakes are described as "a wilderness of waters
spreading over the country by an infinite number and variety of
branchings, bays, and straits." The Mississippi, with its eastern
branch, called the Ohio, is described as having, "so far as we know, but
two falls,--one at a place called, by the French, St. Antoine, high up
on the west or main branch"; and all its waters "run to the ocean with a
still, easy, and gentle current." The picture is completed by exhibiting
the two masses of water in combination:--

"The waters of each respective mass--not only the lesser streams, but
the main general body of each going through this continent in every
course and direction--have by their approach to each other, by their
communication to every quarter and in every direction, an alliance and
unity, and form one mass, or one whole."[42]

Again, depicting the intercommunication among the several waters of the
continent, and how "the watery element claims and holds dominion over
this extent of land," he insists that all shall see these two mighty
masses in their central throne, declaring that "the great lakes which
lie upon its bosom on one hand, and the great river Mississippi and the
multitude of waters which run into it, form there a communication,--an
alliance or dominion of the watery element, that commands throughout the
whole; that these great lakes appear to be the throne, the centre of a
dominion, whose influence, by an infinite number of rivers, creeks, and
streams, extends itself through all and every part of the continent,
supported by the communication of, and alliance with the waters of the
Mississippi."[43]

If these means of internal commerce were vast, those afforded by the
Atlantic Ocean were not less extensive. The latter were developed in the
volume entitled "The Administration of the Colonies," the fourth edition
of which, published in 1768, is now before me. This was after the
differences between the Colonies and the mother country had begun, but
before the idea of independence had shown itself. Pownall insisted that
the Colonies ought to be considered as parts of the realm, entitled to
representation in Parliament. This was a constitutional unity. But he
portrayed a commercial unity also, which he represented in attractive
forms. The British isles, and the British possessions in the Atlantic
and in America, were, according to him, "one grand marine dominion," and
ought, therefore, by policy, to be united into one empire, with one
centre. On this he dwells at length, and the picture is presented
repeatedly.[44] It was incident to the crisis produced in the world by
the predominance of the commercial spirit which already began to rule
the powers of Europe. It was the duty of England to place herself at the
head of this great movement.

"As the rising of this crisis forms precisely the _object_, on which
government should be employed, so the taking leading measures towards
the forming all those Atlantic and American possessions into one empire,
of which Great Britain should be the commercial and political centre, is
the _precise duty_ of government at this crisis."

This was his desire. But he saw clearly the resources as well as the
rights of the Colonies, and was satisfied that, if power were not
consolidated under the constitutional auspices of England, it would be
transferred to the other side of the Atlantic. Here his words are
prophetic:--

"The whole train of events, the whole course of business, must
perpetually bring forward into practice, and necessarily in the end into
establishment, _either an American or a British union_. There is no
other alternative."

The necessity for union is enforced in a manner which foreshadows our
national Union:--

"The Colonial Legislature does not answer all purposes; is incompetent
and inadequate to many purposes. Something more is necessary,--_either a
common union among themselves_, or a common union of subordination under
the one general legislature of the state."[45]

Then, again, in another place of the same work, after representing the
declarations of power over the Colonies as little better than mockery,
he prophesies again:--

"Such is the actual state of the really existing system of our
dominions, that _neither the power of government over these various
parts can long continue under the present mode of administration_, nor
the great interests of commerce extended throughout the whole long
subsist under the present system of the laws of trade."[46]

Recent events may give present interest to his views, in this same work,
on the nature and necessity of a paper curency, where he follows
Franklin. The principal points of his plan were, that bills of credit,
to a certain amount, should be printed in England for the use of the
Colonies; that a loan-office should be established in each Colony to
issue bills, take securities, and receive the payment; that the bills
should be issued for ten years, bearing interest at five per cent,--one
tenth part of the sum borrowed to be paid annually, with interest; and
that they should be a legal tender.

When the differences had flamed forth in war, then the prophet became
more earnest. His utterances deserve to be rescued from oblivion. He was
open, and almost defiant. As early as _2d December, 1777_, some months
before our treaty with France, he declared, from his place in
Parliament, "that the sovereignty of this country over America is
abolished and gone forever"; "that they are determined at all events to
be independent, _and will be so_"; and "that all the treaty this country
can ever expect with America is federal, and that, probably, only
commercial." In this spirit he said to the House:--

"Until you shall be convinced that you are no longer sovereigns over
America, but that the United States are an independent, sovereign
people,--until you are prepared to treat with them as such,--it is of no
consequence at all what schemes or plans of conciliation this side of
the House or that may adopt."[47]

The position taken in Parliament he maintained by writings, and here he
depicted the great destinies of our country. He began with a work
entitled "A Memorial to the Sovereigns of Europe," which was published
early in 1780, and was afterwards, through the influence of John Adams,
while at the Hague, abridged and translated into French. In this
remarkable production independence was the least that he claimed for us.
Thus he foretells our future:--

"North America is become a new primary planet in the system of the
world, which, while it takes its own course, must have effect on the
orbit of every other planet, and shift the common centre of gravity of
the whole system of the European world. North America is _de facto_ an
independent power, which has taken its equal station with other powers,
and must be so _de jure_.... The independence of America is fixed as
fate. She is mistress of her own future, knows that she is so, and will
actuate that power which she feels she hath, so as to establish her own
system _and to change the system of Europe_."[48]

Not only is the new power to take an independent place, but it is "to
change the system of Europe." For all this its people are amply
prepared. "Standing on that high ground of improvement up to which the
most enlightened parts of Europe have advanced, like eaglets, they
commence the first efforts of their pinions from a towering
advantage."[49] Then again, giving expression to this same conviction in
another form, he says:--

"North America has advanced, and is every day advancing, to growth of
state, with a steady and continually accelerating motion, of which there
has never yet been any example in Europe."[50] "It is a vitality, liable
to many disorders, many dangerous diseases; but it is young and strong,
and will struggle, by the vigor of internal healing principles of life,
against those evils, and surmount them. Its strength will grow with its
years."[51]

He then dwells in detail on "the progressive population" here; on our
advantage in being "on the other side of the globe, where there is no
enemy"; on the products of the soil, among which is "bread-corn to a
degree that has wrought it to a staple export for the supply of the Old
World"; on the fisheries, which he calls "mines of more solid riches
than all the silver of Potosi"; on the inventive spirit of the people;
and on their commercial activity. Of such a people it is easy to predict
great things; and our prophet announces,--

1. That the new state will be "an active naval power," exercising a
peculiar influence on commerce, and, through commerce, on the political
system of the Old World,--becoming the arbitress of commerce, and,
perhaps, the mediatrix of peace.[52]

2. That ship-building and the science of navigation have made such
progress in America, that her people will be able to build and navigate
cheaper than any country in Europe, even Holland, with all her
economy.[53]

3. That the peculiar articles to be had from America only, and so much
sought in Europe, must give Americans a preference in those markets.[54]

4. That a people "whose empire stands singly predominant on a great
continent" can hardly "suffer in their borders such a monopoly as the
European Hudson Bay Company"; that it cannot be stopped by Cape Horn or
the Cape of Good Hope; that before long they will be found "trading in
the South Sea and in China"; and that the Dutch "will hear of them in
the Spice Islands."[55]

5. That by constant intercommunion of business and correspondence, and
by increased knowledge with regard to the ocean, "America will seem
every day to approach nearer and nearer to Europe"; that the old alarm
at the sea will subside, and "a thousand attractive motives will become
the irresistible cause of _an almost general emigration to the New
World_"; and that "many of the most useful, enterprising spirits, and
much of the active property, will go there also."[56]

6. That "North America will become a _free port_ to all the nations of
the world indiscriminately, and will expect, insist on, and demand, in
fair reciprocity, a _free market_ in all those nations with whom she
trades"; and that, adhering to this principle, "she must be, in the
course of time, the chief carrier of the commerce of the whole
world."[57]

7. That America must avoid complication with European politics, or "the
entanglement of alliances," having no connections with Europe other than
commercial;[58]--all of which at a later day was put forth by Washington
in his Farewell Address, when he said, "The great rule of conduct for
us, in regard to foreign nations, is, in extending our commercial
relations, to have with them as little political concern as possible."

8. That similar modes of living and thinking, the same manners and same
fashions, the same language and old habits of national love, impressed
on the heart and not yet effaced, _the very indentings of the fracture
where North America is broken off from England, all conspire naturally
to a rejuncture by alliance_.[59]

9. That the sovereigns of Europe, "who have despised the unfashioned,
awkward youth of America," and have neglected to interweave their
interests with the rising States, when they find the system of the new
empire not only obstructing, but superseding, the old system of Europe,
and crossing all their settled maxims, will call upon their ministers
and wise men, "Come, curse me this people, for they are too mighty for
me."[60]

This appeal was followed by two other memorials, "drawn up solely for
the king's use, and designed solely for his eye," _dated at Richmond,
January, 1782_, in which the author most persuasively pleads with the
king to treat with the Colonies on the footing of independence, and
with this view to institute a preliminary negotiation "as with free
states _de facto_ under a truce." On the signature of the treaty of
peace, he wrote a private letter to Franklin, dated at _Richmond, 28th
February, 1783_, in which be testifies again to the magnitude of the
event, as follows:--

"My old Friend,--I write this to congratulate you on the establishment
of your country as a free and sovereign power, taking its equal station
amongst the powers of the world. I congratulate you, in particular, as
chosen by Providence to be a principal instrument in this great
Revolution,--_a Revolution that has stranger marks of Divine
interposition, superseding the ordinary course of human affairs, than
any other event which this world has experienced_."

He closes this letter by saying that he thought of making a tour of
America, adding that, "if there ever was an object worth travelling to
see, and worthy of the contemplation of a philosopher, it is that in
which he may see the beginning of a great empire at its foundation."[61]
He communicated this purpose also to John Adams, who answered him, that
"he would be received respectfully in every part of America,--that he
had always been considered friendly to America,--and that his writings
had been useful to our cause."[62]

Then came another work, first published in 1783, entitled, "A Memorial
addressed to the Sovereigns of America, by Governor Pownall," of which
he gave the mistaken judgment to a private friend, that it was "the best
thing he ever wrote." Here for the first time American citizens are
called "sovereigns." At the beginning he explains and indicates the
simplicity with which he addresses them:--

"Having presumed to address to the Sovereigns of Europe a Memorial ...
permit me now to address this Memorial to you, Sovereigns of America. I
shall not address you with the court titles of Gothic Europe, nor with
those of servile Asia. I will neither address your Sublimity or Majesty,
your Grace or Holiness, your Eminence or High-mightiness, your
Excellence or Honors. What are titles, where things themselves are known
and understood? What title did the Republic of Rome take? The state was
known to be sovereign and the citizens to be free. What could add to
this? Therefore, United States and Citizens of America, I address you as
you are."[63]

Here again are the same constant sympathy with liberty, the same
confidence in our national destinies, and the same aspirations for our
prosperity, mingled with warnings against disturbing influences. He
exhorts that all our foundations should be "laid in nature"; that there
should be "no contention for, nor acquisition of, unequal domination in
men"; and that union should be established on the attractive principle
by which all are drawn to a common centre. He fears difficulty, in
making the line of frontier between us and the British Provinces "a line
of peace," as it ought to be; he is anxious lest something may break out
between us and Spain; and he suggests that possibly, "in the cool hours
of unimpassioned reflection," we may learn the danger of our
"alliances,"--referring plainly to that original alliance with France
which, at a later day, was the occasion of such trouble. Two other
warnings occur. One is against Slavery, which is more noteworthy,
because in an earlier memorial he enumerates among articles of commerce
"African slaves carried by a circuitous, trade in American shipping to
the West India market."[64] The other warning is thus strongly
expressed:--"Every inhabitant of America is, _de facto_ as well as _de
jure_, equal, in his essential, inseparable rights of the individual, to
any other individual, and is, in these rights, independent of any power
that any other can assume over him, over his labor, or his property.
This is principle in act and deed, and not a mere speculative
theorem."[65]

I close this strange and striking testimony, all from one man, with his
farewell words to Franklin. As Pownall heard that the great philosopher
and negotiator was about to embark for the United States, he wrote to
him from Lausanne, _under date of 3d July, 1785_, as follows:--

"Adieu, my dear friend. You are going to a New World, formed to exhibit
a scene which the Old World never yet saw. You leave me here in the Old
World, which, like myself, begins to feel, as Asia hath felt, that it is
wearing out apace. We shall never meet again on this earth; but there is
another world where we shall, and _where we shall be understood_."

Clearly Pownall was not understood in his time; but it is evident that
he understood our country as few Englishmen since have been able to
understand it.


DAVID HARTLEY.--1775, 1785.

Another friend of our country in England was David Hartley. He was
constant and even pertinacious on our side, although less prophetic than
Pownall, with whom he co-operated in purpose and activity. His father
was Hartley the metaphysician, and author of the ingenious theory of
sensation. The son was born 1729, and died at Bath, 1813, During our
revolution he sat in Parliament for Kingston-upon-Hull. He was also the
British plenipotentiary in negotiating the definitive Treaty of Peace
with the United States. He, too, has dropped out of sight. In the
biographical dictionaries he has only a few lines. But he deserves a
considerable place in the history of our independence.

John Adams was often austere, and sometimes cynical in his judgments.
Evidently he did not like Hartley. In one place he speaks of him as
"talkative and disputatious, and not always intelligible";[66] then, as
"a person of consummate vanity";[67] and then, again, when he was
appointed to sign the definitive Treaty, he says, "it would have been
more agreeable to have finished with Mr. Oswald";[68] and, in still
another place, he records, "Mr. Hartley was as copious as usual."[69]
And yet, when writing most elaborately to Count de Vergennes on the
prospects of the negotiation with England, he introduces opinions of
Hartley at length, saying that he was "more for peace than any man in
the kingdom."[70] Such testimony may well outweigh the other
expressions, especially as nothing of the kind appears in the
correspondence of Franklin, with whom Hartley was much more intimate.

The Parliamentary History is a sufficient monument for Hartley. He was a
frequent speaker, and never missed an opportunity of pleading our cause.
Although without the immortal eloquence of Burke, he was always clear
and full. Many of his speeches seem to have been written out by himself.
He was not a tardy convert. He began as "a new member" by supporting an
amendment favorable to the Colonies, 5th December, 1774. In March, 1775,
he brought forward "propositions for conciliation with America," which
he sustained in an elaborate speech, where he avowed that the American
Question had occupied him already for some time:--

"Though I have so lately had the honor of a seat in this House, yet I
have for many years turned my thoughts and attention to matters of
public concern and national policy. This question of America is now of
many years' standing."[71]

In the course of this speech he thus acknowledges the services of New
England at Louisburg:--

"In that war too, sir, they took Louisburg from the French,
single-handed, without any European assistance,--as mettled an
enterprise as any in our history,--an everlasting memorial of the zeal,
courage, and perseverance of the troops of New England. The men
themselves dragged the cannon over a morass which had always been
thought impassable, where neither horses nor oxen could go, and they
carried the shot upon their backs. And what was their reward for this
forward and spirited enterprise,--for the reduction of this American
Dunkirk? Their reward, sir, you know very well; it was given up for a
barrier to the Dutch."[72]

All his various propositions were negatived; but he was not
disheartened. On every occasion he spoke,--now on the budget, then on
the address, and then on specific propositions. At this time he asserted
the power of Parliament over the Colonies, and he proposed on the 2d
November, 1775, that a test of submission by the Colonists should be the
recognition of an act of Parliament, "enacting that all the slaves in
America should have the trial by jury."[73] Shortly afterwards _on the
5th December, 1775_, he brought forward another set of "propositions for
conciliation with America," where, among other things, he embodied the
test on slavery, which he put forward as a compromise; and here his
language belongs, not only to the history of our Revolution, but to the
history of anti-slavery. While declaring that in his opinion Great
Britain was "the aggressor in everything," he sought to bring the two
countries together on a platform of human rights, which he thus
explained:--

"The act to be proposed to America, _as an auspicious beginning to lay
the first stone of universal liberty to mankind_, should be what no
American could hesitate an instant to comply with, namely, that every
slave in North America should be entitled to his trial by jury in all
criminal cases. America cannot refuse to accept and enroll such an act
as this, and thereby to re-establish peace and harmony with the parent
state. _Let us all be re-united in this, as a foundation to extirpate
slavery from the face of the earth. Let those who seek justice and
liberty for themselves give that justice and liberty to their
fellow-creatures._ With respect to putting a final period to slavery in
North America, it should seem best that, when this country had led the
way by the act for jury, each Colony, knowing their own peculiar
circumstances, should undertake the work in the most practicable way,
and that they should endeavor to establish some system by which slavery
should be in a certain term of years abolished. _Let the only contention
henceforward between Great Britain and America be, which shall exceed
the other in zeal for establishing the fundamental rights of liberty for
all mankind._"[74]

The motion was rejected; but among the twenty-three in its favor were
Fox and Burke. During this same month the unwearied defender of our
country came forward again, declaring that he could not be "an adviser
or a well-wisher to any of the vindictive operations against America,
because the cause is unjust; but at the same time he must be equally
earnest to secure British interests from destruction," and he thus
prophesies:--

"The fate of America is cast. You may bruise its heel; but you cannot
crush its head. It will revive again. _The new world is before them.
Liberty is theirs._ They have possession of a free government, their
birthright and inheritance, derived to them from their parent state,
which the hand of violence cannot wrest from them. If you will cast them
off, my last wish is to them, May they go and prosper!"

Again, on the 10th May, 1776, he vindicated anew his original
proposition, and here again he testifies for peace and against slavery.

"For the sake of peace, therefore, I did propose a test of compromise by
an act of acceptance, on the part of the Colonists, of an act of
Parliament which should lay _the foundation for the extirpation of the
horrid custom of slavery in the New World_. My motion was simply an act
of compromise and reconciliation; and, as far as it was a legislative
act, it was still to have been applied in correcting the laws of slavery
in America, which I considered as repugnant to the laws of the realm of
England and to the fundamentals of our constitution. Such a compromise
would at the same time have saved the national honor."[75]

All gratitude to the hero who at this early day vowed himself to the
abolition of slavery. Hartley is among the first of abolitionists, with
hardly a predecessor except Granville Sharp, and in Parliament
absolutely the first. Clarkson was at this time fifteen years old,
Wilberforce sixteen. It was only in 1787 that Clarkson obtained the
prize for the best Latin essay on the question, "Is it right to make men
slaves against their will?" It was not until 1791 that Wilberforce moved
for leave to bring in a bill for the abolition of the slave-trade.
Surely it is a great honor for one man, that he should have come forward
in Parliament as an avowed abolitionist, while he was at the same time a
vindicator of our independence.

Again, on the 15th May, 1777, Hartley pleaded for us, saying:--

"At sea, which has hitherto been our prerogative element, they rise
against us at a stupendous rate; and if we cannot return to our old
mutual hospitalities towards each other, a very few years will show us a
most formidable hostile marine, ready to join hands with any of our
enemies.... I will venture to prophesy that the principles of a federal
alliance are the only terms of peace that ever will and that ever ought
to obtain between the two countries."[76]

On the 15th June, immediately afterwards, the Parliamentary History
reports briefly:--

"Mr. Hartley went upon the cruelties of slavery, and urged the Board of
Trade to take some means of mitigating it. He produced a pair of
handcuffs, which he said was a manufacture they were now going to
establish."[77]

Thus again the abolitionist reappeared in the vindicator of our
independence. On the 22d June, 1779, he brought forward another formal
motion "for reconciliation with America," and, in the course of a
well-considered speech, denounced the ministers for "headstrong and
inflexible obstinacy in prosecuting a cruel and destructive American
war."[78] On the 3d December, 1779, in what is called "a very long
speech," he returned to his theme, inveighing against ministers for "the
favorite, though wild, Quixotic, and impracticable measure of coercing
America."[79] These are only instances.

During this time he had maintained a correspondence with Franklin, which
appears in the "Diplomatic Correspondence of the Revolution," and all of
which attests his desire for peace. In 1778 he came to Paris on a
confidential errand, especially to confer with Franklin. It was on this
occasion that John Adams met him and judged him severely. In 1783 he was
appointed a commissioner to sign the definitive Treaty of Peace.

These things belong to history. Though perhaps not generally known, they
are accessible. I have presented them partly for their intrinsic value
and their prophetic character, and partly as an introduction to an
unpublished letter from Hartley which I received some time ago from an
English friend who has since been called away from important labors. The
letter concerns _emigration to our country and the payment of the
national debt_.

The following indorsement will explain its character:--

"_Note._ This is a copy of the material portion of a long letter from D.
Hartley, the British Commissioner in Paris, to Lord Sydenham, January,
1785. The original was sold by C. Robinson, of 21 Bond Street, London,
on the 6th April, 1859, at a sale of Hartley's MSS. and papers chiefly
relating to the United States of America. It was Hartley's copy, in his
own hand.

"The lot was No. 82 in the sale catalogue. It was bought by J. R. Smith,
the London bookseller, for £2 6_s._ 0_d._

"I had a copy made before the sale.

     "_Joseph Parkes._

     "London, 18 July, '59."

The letter is as follows:--

     "MY LORD,--In your Lordship's last letter to me, just before
     my leaving Paris, you are pleased to say that any
     information which I might have been able to collect of a
     nature to promote the mutual and reciprocal interests of
     Great Britain and the United States of America would be
     extremely acceptable to his Majesty's government.... Annexed
     to this letter I have the honor of transmitting to your
     Lordship some papers and documents which I have received
     from the American Ministers. One of them (No. 5) is a Map of
     the Continent of North America, in which the land ceded to
     them by the late treaty of peace is divided, by parallels of
     latitude and longitude, into fourteen new States. The whole
     project, in its full extent, would take many years in its
     execution, and therefore it must be far beyond the present
     race of men to say, 'This shall be so.' Nevertheless, _those
     who have the first care of this New World will probably give
     it such directions and inherent influences as may guide and
     control its course and revolutions for ages to come_. But
     these plans, being beyond the reach of man to predestinate,
     are likewise beyond the reach of comment or speculation to
     say what may or may not be possible, or to predict what
     events may hereafter be produced by time, climates, soils,
     adjoining nations, or by the unwieldy magnitude of empire,
     and _the future population of millions superadded to
     millions_. The sources of the Mississippi may be unknown.
     The lines of longitude and latitude may be extended into
     unexplored regions, and the plan of this new creation may be
     sketched out by a presumptuous compass, if all its
     intermediate uses and functions were to be suspended until
     the final and precise accomplishment, without failure or
     deviation, of this unbounded plan. But this is not the case;
     the immediate objects in view are limited and precise; they
     are of prudent thought, and within the scope of human power
     to measure out and to execute. The principle indeed is
     indefinite, and will be left to the test of future ages to
     determine its duration or extent. I take the liberty to
     suggest thus much, lest we should be led away to suppose
     that the councils which have produced these plans have had
     no wiser or more sedate views than merely the amusement of
     drawing meridians of ambition and high thoughts. There
     appear to me to be two solid and rational objects in view:
     the first is, by the sale of lands nearly contiguous to the
     present States (receiving Congress paper in payment
     according to its scale of depreciation) _to extinguish the
     present national debt_, which I understand might be
     discharged for about twelve millions sterling.

     "If your Lordship will cast your eye upon the map to the
     south and east of the Ohio and the Mississippi, you will see
     many millions of acres, which, valued at a single dollar per
     acre, would discharge many millions sterling. The whole
     space within the boundaries lately conceded to the United
     States, together with the unoccupied lands eastward of the
     great rivers, may perhaps contain near half a million of
     square miles (in acres, perhaps three hundred millions, more
     or less). A sixth part of this, the nearest parts being
     likewise the most valuable, would discharge the whole of
     their national debt. It is a new proposition to be offered
     to the numerous common rank of mankind in all the countries
     of the world, to say that there are in America fertile soils
     and temperate climates in which an acre of land may be
     purchased for a trifling consideration, which may be
     possessed in freedom, together with all the natural and
     civil rights of mankind. The Congress have already
     proclaimed this, and that no other qualification or name is
     necessary but to become settlers, without distinction of
     countries or persons. The European peasant, who toils for
     his scanty sustenance in penury, wretchedness, and
     servitude, will eagerly fly to this asylum for free and
     industrious labor. The tide of immigration may set strongly
     outward from Scotland, Ireland, and Canada to this new land
     of promise. A very great proportion of men in all the
     countries of the world are without property, and generally
     are subject to governments of which they have no
     participation, and over whom they have no control. The
     Congress have now opened to all the world a sale of landed
     settlements where the liberty and property of each
     individual is to be consigned to his own custody and
     defence. The first settlers, as the seedlings of a new
     State, will be under a temporary government of their own
     choice, provided it be similar to some one of the present
     American governments. But as soon as their numbers shall
     amount to twenty thousand, their temporary government is to
     cease, and they are to establish a permanent government for
     themselves, and whenever such new State shall have of free
     inhabitants as many as shall be in any one the least
     numerous of the original States. These are such propositions
     of free establishments as have never yet been offered to
     mankind, and cannot fail of producing great effects in the
     future progress of things. The Congress have arranged their
     offers in the most inviting and artful terms, and lest
     individual peasants and laborers should not have the means
     of removing themselves, they throw out inducements to
     moneyed adventurers to purchase and to undertake the
     settlement by commission and agency, without personal
     residence, by stipulating that the lands of proprietors
     being absentees shall not be higher taxed than the lands of
     residents. This will quicken the sale of lands, which is
     their object. For the explanation of these points, I beg
     leave to refer your Lordship to the documents annexed, Nos.
     5 and 6, namely, the Map and Resolutions of Congress, dated
     April, 1784. There is another circumstance would confirm
     that it is the intention of Congress to invite moneyed
     adventurers to make purchases and settlements, which is the
     precise and mathematical mode of dividing and marking out
     for sale the lands in each new proposed State. These new
     States are to be divided by parallel lines running north and
     south, and by other parallels running east and west. They
     are to be divided into hundreds of ten geographical miles
     square, and then again into lots of one square mile. The
     divisions are laid out as regularly as the squares upon a
     chessboard, and all to be formed into a Charter of Compact.

     "They may be purchased by purchasers at any distance, and
     the titles may be verified by registers of such or such
     numbers, north or south, east or west; all this is explained
     by the document annexed, No. 7, viz. _The Ordinance for
     ascertaining the mode of locating and disposing of lands in
     the Western Territory. This is their plan and means for
     paying off their national debt, and they seem very intent
     upon doing it._ I should observe that their debt consists of
     two parts, namely, domestic and foreign. The sale of lands
     is to be appropriated to the former.

     "The domestic debt may perhaps be nine or ten millions, and
     the foreign debt two or three. For payment of the foreign
     debt it is proposed to lay a tax of five per cent upon all
     imports until discharged, which, I am informed, has already
     been agreed to by most of the States, and probably will
     soon be confirmed by the rest. Upon the whole, it appears
     that this plan is as prudently conceived and as judiciously
     arranged, as to the end proposed, as any experienced cabinet
     of European ministers could have devised or planned any
     similar project. The second point which appears to me to be
     deserving of attention, respecting the immense cession of
     territory to the United States at the late peace, is a point
     _which will perhaps in a few years become an unparalleled
     phenomenon in the political world_. As soon as the national
     debt of the United States shall be discharged by the sale of
     one portion of those lands, we shall then see the
     Confederate Republic in a new character, as a proprietor of
     lands, either for sale or to let upon rents, while other
     nations may be struggling under debts too enormous to be
     discharged either by economy or taxation, and while they may
     be laboring to raise ordinary and necessary supplies by
     burdensome impositions upon their own persons and
     properties. _Here will be a nation possessed of a new and
     unheard of financial organ of stupendous magnitude, and in
     process of time of unmeasured value, thrown into their lap
     as a fortuitous superfluity, and almost without being sought
     for._

     "When such an organ of revenue begins to arise into produce
     and exertion, what public uses it may be applicable to, or
     to what abuses and perversions it might be rendered
     subservient, is far beyond the reach of probable discussion
     now. Such discussions would only be visionary speculations.
     However, thus far it is obvious and highly deserving of our
     attention, that it cannot fail becoming to the American
     States a most important instrument of national power, the
     progress and operation of which must hereafter be _a most
     interesting object of attention to the British American
     dominions which are in close vicinity to the territories of
     the United States, and I should hope that these
     considerations would lead us, inasmuch as we value those
     parts of our dominions, to encourage conciliatory and
     amicable correspondence between them and their neighbors_.

     "I have thus, my Lord, endeavored to comply with your
     Lordship's commands to the best of my power, in stating such
     information to his Majesty's government as I have been
     enabled to collect of such nature as may tend to the mutual
     and reciprocal interest of Great Britain and the United
     States of America. I do not recollect at present anything
     further to trouble your Lordship with. If any of the
     foregoing points should require any further elucidation, I
     shall always be ready to obey your Lordship's summons, or to
     give in any other way the best explanations in my power."


COUNT D'ARANDA.--1783.

The Count d'Aranda was one of the first of Spanish statesmen and
diplomatists, and one of the richest subjects of Spain in his day; born
at Saragossa, 1718, and died 1799. He, too, is one of our prophets.
Originally a soldier, he became ambassador, governor of a province, and
prime minister. In the latter post he displayed character as well as
ability, and was the benefactor of his country. He drove the Jesuits
from Spain and dared to oppose the Inquisition. He was a philosopher,
and, like Pope Benedict XIV., corresponded with Voltaire. Such a liberal
spirit was out of place in Spain. Compelled to resign in 1773, he found
a retreat at Paris as ambassador, where he came into communication with
Franklin, Adams, and Jay, and finally signed the Treaty of Paris, by
which Spain acknowledged our independence. Shortly afterwards he
returned to Spain and took the place of Florida Blanca as prime
minister.

Franklin, on meeting him, records, in his letter to the secret committee
of Congress, that he seemed "well disposed to us."[80] Shortly
afterwards he had another interview with him, which he thus chronicles
in his journal:--

"_Saturday, June 29th_ [1782].--We went together to the Spanish
Ambassador's, who received us with great civility and politeness. He
spoke with Mr. Jay on the subject of the treaty they were to make
together.... On our going out, he took pains himself to open the
folding-doors for us, which is a high compliment here, and told us he
would return our visit (_rendre son devoir_), and then fix a day with us
for dining with him."[81]

Adams, in his journal, describes a Sunday dinner at his house, then a
"new building in the finest situation of Paris,"[82] being a part of the
incomparable palace, with its columnar front, which is still admired as
it looks on the Place de la Concorde. Jay also describes a dinner with
the Count, who was "living in great splendor, with an assortment of
wines the finest in Europe," and was "the ablest Spaniard he had ever
known"; showing by his conversation "that his court is in earnest," and
appearing "frank and candid, as well as sagacious."[83] These
hospitalities have a peculiar interest, when it is known, as it now is,
that Count d'Aranda regarded the acknowledgment of our independence with
"grief and dread." But these sentiments were disguised from our
ministers.

After signing the Treaty of Paris, by which Spain acknowledged our
independence, D'Aranda addressed a memoir secretly to King Charles III.,
in which his opinions on this event are set forth. This prophetic
document slumbered for a long time in the confidential archives of the
Spanish crown. Coxe, in his "Memoirs of the House of Bourbon in Spain,"
which are founded on a rare collection of original documents, makes no
allusion to it. The memoir appears for the first time in a volume
published at Paris in 1837, and entitled _Gouvernement de Charles III.,
Roi d'Espagne, ou Instruction réservée à la Funte d'État par ce
Monarque. Publiée par D. André Muriel_. The editor had already
translated into French the Memoirs of Coxe, and was probably led by this
labor to make the supplementary collection. An abstract of the memoir of
D'Aranda appears in one of the historical dissertations of the Mexican
authority, Alaman, who said of it that it has "a just celebrity, because
results have made it pass for a prophecy."[84] I translate it now from
the French of Muriel.

     "_Memoir communicated secretly to the King by his Excellency
     the Count d'Aranda, on the Independence of the English
     Colonies, after having signed the Treaty of Paris of 1783._

     "The independence of the English colonies has been
     acknowledged. This is for me an occasion of grief and dread.
     France has few possessions in America; but she should have
     considered that Spain, her intimate ally, has many, and that
     she is left to-day exposed to terrible shocks. From the
     beginning, France has acted contrary to her true interests
     in encouraging and seconding this independence; I have so
     declared often to the ministers of this nation. What could
     happen better for France than to see the English and the
     colonists destroy each other in a party warfare which could
     only augment her power and favor her interests? The
     antipathy which reigns between France and England blinded
     the French Cabinet; it forgot that its interest consisted in
     remaining a tranquil spectator of this conflict; and, once
     launched in the arena, it dragged us unhappily, and by
     virtue of the family compact, into a war entirely contrary
     to our proper interest.

     "I will not stop here to examine the opinions of some
     statesmen, our own countrymen as well as foreigners, which I
     share, on _the difficulty of preserving our power in
     America. Never have so extensive possessions, placed at a
     great distance from the metropolis, been long preserved_.
     To this cause, applicable to all colonies, must be added
     others peculiar to the Spanish possessions; namely, the
     difficulty of succoring them in case of need; the vexations
     to which the unhappy inhabitants have been exposed from some
     of the governors; the distance of the supreme authority to
     which they must have recourse for the redress of grievances,
     which causes years to pass before justice is done to their
     complaints; the vengeance of the local authorities to which
     they continue exposed while waiting; the difficulty of
     knowing the truth at so great a distance; finally, the means
     which the viceroys and governors, from being Spaniards,
     cannot fail to have for obtaining favorable judgments in
     Spain; all these different circumstances will render the
     inhabitants of America discontented, and make them attempt
     efforts to obtain independence as soon as they shall have a
     propitious occasion.

     "Without entering into any of these considerations, I shall
     confine myself now to that which occupies us from the dread
     of seeing ourselves exposed to dangers from the new power
     which we have just recognized in a country where there is no
     other in condition to arrest its progress. _This Federal
     Republic is born a pygmy_, so to speak. It required the
     support and the forces of two powers as great as Spain and
     France in order to attain independence. _A day will come
     when it will be a giant, even a colossus formidable in these
     countries._ It will then forget the benefits which it has
     received from the two powers, and will dream of nothing but
     to organize itself. _Liberty of conscience, the facility for
     establishing a new population on immense lands, as well as
     the advantages of the new government, will draw thither
     agriculturists and artisans from all the nations; for men
     always run after fortune. And in a few years we shall see
     with true grief the tyrannical existence of this same
     colossus of which I speak._

     "The first movement of this power, when it has arrived at
     its aggrandizement, will be to obtain possession of the
     Floridas, in order to dominate the Gulf of Mexico. After
     having rendered commerce with New Spain difficult for us, it
     will aspire to the conquest of this vast empire, which it
     will not be possible for us to defend against a formidable
     power established on the same continent, and in its
     neighborhood. These fears are well founded, Sire; they will
     be changed into reality in a few years, if, indeed, there
     are not other disorders in our Americas still more fatal.
     This observation is justified by what has happened in all
     ages, and with all nations which have begun to rise. Man is
     the same everywhere; the difference of climate does not
     change the nature of our sentiments; he who finds the
     opportunity of acquiring power and of aggrandizing himself,
     profits by it always. How then can we expect the Americans
     to respect the kingdom of New Spain, when they shall have
     the facility of possessing themselves of this rich and
     beautiful country? A wise policy counsels us to take
     precautions against evils which may happen. This thought has
     occupied my whole mind, since, as Minister Plenipotentiary
     of your Majesty, and conformably to your royal will and
     instructions, I signed the Peace of Paris. I have considered
     this important affair with all the attention of which I am
     capable, and after much reflection drawn from the knowledge,
     military as well as political, which I have been able to
     acquire in my long career, I think that, in order to escape
     the great losses with which we are threatened, there remains
     nothing but the means which I am about to have the honor of
     exhibiting to your Majesty.

     "Your Majesty must relieve yourself of all your possessions
     on the continent of the two Americas, _preserving only the
     islands of Cuba and Porto Rico_ in the northern part, and
     some other convenient one in the southern part, to serve as
     a seaport or trading-place for Spanish commerce.

     "In order to accomplish this great thought in a manner
     becoming to Spain, three infantas must be placed in
     America,--one as king of Mexico, another as king of Peru,
     and the third as king of the Terra Firma. Your Majesty will
     take the title of Emperor."

I have sometimes heard this remarkable memoir called apocryphal, but
without reason, except because its foresight is so remarkable. The
Mexican historian Alaman treats it as genuine, and, after praising it,
informs us that the proposition of Count d'Aranda to the king was not
taken into consideration, which, according to him, was "disastrous to
all, and especially to the people of America, who in this way would have
obtained independence, without struggle or anarchy."[85] Meanwhile all
the American possessions of the Spanish crown, except Cuba and Porto
Rico, have become independent, as predicted, and the new power, known as
the United States, which at that time was a "pygmy," has become a
"colossus."

D'Aranda was not alone in surprise at the course of Spain. The English
traveller Burnaby, in his edition of 1796, mentions this as one of the
reasons for the success of the colonists, and declares that he had not
supposed, originally, "that Spain would join in a plan inevitably
leading by slow and imperceptible steps to the final loss of all her
rich possessions in America."[86] This was not an uncommon idea. One of
John Adams's Dutch correspondents, under date of 14th September, 1780,
writes he has heard it said twenty times, that, "if America becomes
free, it will some day give the law to Europe; it will seize our islands
and our colonies of Guiana; it will seize all the West Indies; it will
swallow Mexico, even Peru, Chili, and Brazil; it will take from us our
freighting commerce; it will pay its benefactors with ingratitude."[87]
Mr. Adams also records in his diary, under date of 14th December, 1779,
on his landing at Ferrol in Spain, that, according to the report of
various persons, "the Spanish nation in general have been of opinion
that the Revolution in America was of bad example to the Spanish
colonies, and dangerous to the interests of Spain, as the United States,
should they become ambitious, and be seized with the spirit of conquest,
might aim at Mexico and Peru."[88] All this is entirely in harmony with
the memoir of the Count d'Aranda.


BURNS.--1788.

From Count d'Aranda to Robert Burns,--from the rich and titled minister,
faring sumptuously in the best house of Paris, to the poor ploughboy
poet, struggling in a cottage,--what a contrast! Of the poet I shall say
nothing, except that he was born 25th January, 1759, and died 21st July,
1796, in the thirty-seventh year of his age.

There is only a slender thread of Burns to be woven into this web, and
yet, coming from him, it must not be neglected. In a letter _dated 8th
November, 1788_, after saying a friendly word for the unfortunate house
of Stuart, he thus prophetically alludes to our independence:--

"I will not, I cannot, enter into the merits of the cause, but I dare
say the American Congress, in 1776, will be allowed to be as able and as
enlightened as the English Convention was in 1688; _and that their
posterity will celebrate the centenary of their deliverance from us, as
duly and sincerely as we do ours from the oppressive measures of the
house of Stuart_."[89]

The year 1788, when these words were written, was a year of
commemoration, being the hundredth from the famous revolution by which
the Stuarts were excluded from the throne of England. The "centenary" of
our independence is not yet completed; but long ago the commemoration
began. On the coming of that hundredth anniversary, the prophecy of
Burns will be more than fulfilled.


FOX.--1794.

In quoting from Charles James Fox, the statesman, minister, and orator,
I need add nothing, except that he was born 24th January, 1749, and died
13th September, 1806, and that he was an early friend of our country.

Many words of his, especially during our Revolution, might be introduced
here; but I content myself with a single passage of a later date, which,
besides its expression of good-will, is a prophecy of our power. It will
be found in a speech on his motion for putting an end to war with France
in the House of Commons, _30th May, 1794_.

"It was impossible to dissemble that we had a serious dispute with
America, and although we might be confident that the wisest and best man
of his age, who presided in the government of that country, would do
everything that became him to avert a war, it was impossible to foresee
the issue. America had no fleet, no army; but in case of war she would
find various means to harass and annoy us. Against her we could not
strike a blow that would not be as severely felt in London as in
America, so identified were the two countries by commercial intercourse.
_To a contest with such an adversary he looked as the greatest possible
misfortune._ If we commenced another crusade against her, we might
destroy her trade, and check the progress of her agriculture, but we
must also equally injure ourselves. Desperate, therefore, indeed, must
be that war in which each wound inflicted on our enemy would at the same
time inflict one upon ourselves. He hoped to God that such an event as a
war with America would not happen."[90]

All good men on both sides of the ocean must join with Fox, who thus
early deprecated a war between the United States and England, and
portrayed the consequences. Time, which has enlarged and multiplied the
relations between the two countries, makes his words more applicable now
than when he first uttered them.


GEORGE CANNING.--1826.

George Canning was a successor of Fox, in the House of Commons, as
statesman, minister, and orator; he was born 11th April, 1770, and died
8th August, 1827, in the beautiful villa of the Duke of Devonshire, at
Chiswick, where Fox had died before. Unlike Fox in sentiment for our
country, he is nevertheless associated with a leading event of our
history, and is the author of prophetic words.

The Monroe Doctrine, as it is now familiarly called, proceeded from
Canning. He was its inventor, promoter, and champion, at least so far as
it bears against European intervention in American affairs. Earnestly
engaged in counteracting the designs of the Holy Alliance for the
restoration of the Spanish colonies to Spain, he sought to enlist the
United States in the same policy, and when Mr. Rush, who was at the time
our Minister at London, replied that any interference with European
politics was contrary to the traditions of our government, he argued
that, however just such a policy might have been formerly, it was no
longer applicable,--that the question was new and complicated,--that it
was "full as much American as European, to say no more,"--that it
concerned the United States under aspects and interests as immediate and
commanding as those of any of the states of Europe,--that "they were the
first power on that continent, and confessedly the leading power"; and
he then asked, "Was it possible that they could see with indifference
their fate decided upon by Europe? Had not a new epoch arrived in the
relative position of the United States toward Europe, which Europe must
acknowledge? _Were the great political and commercial interests_ which
hung upon the destinies of the new continent to be canvassed and
adjusted in this hemisphere, without the co-operation, or even the
knowledge, of the United States?" With mingled ardor and importunity the
British Minister pressed his case. At last, after much discussion in the
Cabinet at Washington, President Monroe, accepting the lead of Mr.
Canning, put forth his famous declaration, where, after referring to the
radical difference between the political systems of Europe and America,
he says, that "we should consider any attempt on their part to extend
their systems to any portion of this hemisphere as _dangerous to our
peace and safety_," and that, where governments have been recognized by
us as independent, "we could not view any interposition for the purpose
of oppressing them, or controlling in any other manner their destiny, by
any European power, in any other light than as _a manifestation of an
unfriendly disposition toward the United States_."[91]

The message of President Monroe was received in England with
enthusiastic congratulations. It was upon all tongues; the press was
full of it; the securities of Spanish America rose in the market; the
agents of Spanish America were happy.[92] Brougham exclaimed, in
Parliament, that "no event had ever dispersed greater joy, exultation,
and gratitude over all the freemen of Europe." Mackintosh rejoiced in
the coincidence of England and the United States, "the two great
commonwealths, for so he delighted to call them; and he heartily prayed
that they may be forever united in the cause of justice and
liberty."[93] The Holy Alliance abandoned their purposes on this
continent, and the independence of the Spanish colonies in America was
established. Some time afterwards, on the occasion of assistance to
Portugal, when Mr. Canning felt called to review and vindicate his
foreign policy, he assumed the following lofty strain. This was in the
House of Commons, _12th December, 1826_:--

"It would be disingenuous not to admit that the entry of the French army
into Spain was, in a certain sense, a disparagement,--an affront to our
pride,--a blow to the feelings of England. But I deny that, questionable
or censurable as the act may be, it was one that necessarily called for
our direct and hostile opposition. Was nothing then to be done? If
France occupied Spain, was it necessary, in order to avoid the
consequences of that occupation, that we should blockade Cadiz? No. I
looked another way. I sought materials for compensation in another
hemisphere. Contemplating Spain, such as our ancestors had known her, I
resolved that, if France had Spain, it should not be Spain 'with the
Indies.' _I called the New World into existence to resist the balance of
the Old._"[94]

The republics of Spanish America, thus called into independent
existence, were to redress the balance of the Old World. If they have
not contributed the weight thus vaunted, the growing power of the United
States is ample to compensate any deficiencies on this continent. There
is no balance of power which it cannot redress, if occasion requires.


RICHARD COBDEN.--1849.

Coming to our own day, we meet a familiar name, now consecrated by
death,--Richard Cobden; born 3d June, 1804, and died 2d April, 1865. In
proportion as truth prevails among men, his character will shine with
increasing glory until he is recognized as the first Englishman of his
time. Though thoroughly English, he was not insular, and he served
mankind as well as England.

His masterly faculties and his real goodness made him a prophet always.
He saw the future, and strove to hasten its promises. The elevation and
happiness of the human family were his daily thought. He knew how to
build as well as to destroy. Through him disabilities upon trade and
oppressive taxes were overturned; also a new treaty was negotiated with
France, quickening commerce and intercourse. He was never so truly
eminent as when bringing his practical sense and enlarged experience to
commend the cause of Permanent Peace in the world by the establishment
of a refined system of International Justice, and the disarming of the
nations. To this great consummation all his later labors tended. I have
before me a long letter, dated at _London, 7th November, 1849_, where he
says much on this absorbing question, from which, by an easy transition,
he passes to speak of the proposed annexation of Canada to the United
States. As what he says on the latter topic concerns America, and is a
prophetic voice, I have obtained permission to copy it for this
collection.

"Race, religion, language, traditions, are becoming bonds of union, and
not the parchment title-deeds of sovereigns. These instincts maybe
thwarted for the day, but they are too deeply rooted in nature and in
usefulness not to prevail in the end. I look with less interest to these
struggles of races to live apart for what they want to undo, than for
what they will prevent being done in future. _They will warn rulers that
henceforth the acquisition of fresh territory, by force of arms, will
only bring embarrassments and civil war_, instead of that increased
strength which, in ancient times, when people were passed, like flocks
of sheep, from one king to another, always accompanied the incorporation
of new territorial conquests.

"This is the secret of the admitted doctrine, that we shall have no more
wars of conquest or ambition. In this respect _you_ are differently
situated, having vast tracts of unpeopled territory to tempt that
cupidity which, in respect of landed property, always disposes
individuals and nations, however rich in acres, to desire more. This
brings me to the subject of Canada, to which you refer in your letters.

"I agree with you, that _nature has decided that Canada and the United
States must become one, for all purposes of free intercommunication_.
Whether they also shall be united in the same federal government must
depend upon the two parties to the union. I can assure you that there
will be no repetition of the policy of 1776, on our part, to prevent our
North American colonies from pursuing their interest in their own way.
If the people of Canada are tolerably unanimous in wishing to sever the
very slight thread which now binds them to this country, I see no reason
why, if good faith and ordinary temper be observed, it should not be
done amicably. I think it would be far more likely to be accomplished
peaceably, _if the subject of annexation were left as a distinct
question_. I am quite sure that _we_ should be gainers, to the amount of
about a million sterling annually, if our North American colonists would
set up in life for themselves and maintain their own establishments, and
I see no reason to doubt that they might be also gainers by being thrown
upon their own resources.

"The less your countrymen mingle in the controversy, the better. It will
only be an additional obstacle in the path of those in this country who
see the ultimate necessity of a separation, but who have still some
ignorance and prejudice to contend against, which, if used as political
capital by designing politicians, may complicate seriously a very
difficult piece of statesmanship. It is for you and such as you, who
love peace, to guide your countrymen aright in this matter. You have
made the most noble contributions of any modern writer to the cause of
peace; and as a public man I hope you will exert all your influence to
induce Americans to hold a dignified attitude and observe a 'masterly
inactivity' in the controversy which is rapidly advancing to a solution
between the mother country and her American colonies."

A prudent patriotism among us will appreciate the wisdom of this
counsel, which is more needed now than when it was written. The
controversy which Cobden foresaw "between the mother country and her
American colonies" is yet undetermined. The recent creation of what is
somewhat grandly called "The Dominion of Canada" marks one stage in its
progress.


LUCAS ALAMAN.--1852.

From Canada I pass to Mexico, and close this list with Lucas Alaman, the
Mexican statesman and historian, who has left on record a most pathetic
prophecy with regard to his own country, intensely interesting to us at
this moment.

Little can be gathered here with regard to this remarkable character.
His name does not appear in any biographical or bibliographical
dictionary,--not in the late editions of Michaud or Brunet,--although
his public life and his literary labors might claim for him a place in
biography and bibliography. From the title-page of one of his volumes it
appears that, besides being a member of the Mexican Society of Geography
and Statistics, and also of the Fine Arts, he was a corresponding member
of several foreign societies, among which were the Royal Academy of
History at Madrid, the Royal Institute of Sciences in Bavaria, the
Philosophical Society of Philadelphia, and the Massachusetts Historical
Society. It is only in the dearth of authentic information with regard
to him that I mention these circumstances. It does not appear when he
died. The Preface to the last volume of his History is dated 18th
November, 1852; and, as his name is not noticed in Mexican affairs since
then, it is not unreasonable to suppose that he died shortly after this
date, although his death first appears in the Transactions of the
Massachusetts Historical Society for 1861.

Alaman figured in the Mexican Cortes, and also as Minister of Foreign
Affairs, especially under President Bustamente. In the latter capacity
he inspired the respect of foreign diplomatists. One of these, who had
occasion to know him officially, says of him, in answer to my inquiries,
that he "was the greatest statesman which Mexico has produced since her
independence." His portrait, as engraved in one of his volumes,
resembles the late Mr. Clayton of Delaware. He was one of the few
persons in any country who have been able to unite literature with
public life, and obtain honors in each department.

His first work was "Dissertations on the History of the Mexican
Republic," _Disertaciones sobre la Historia de la Republica Megicana_,
in three volumes, published at Mexico, 1844. In these he considers the
original conquest by Cortez; its consequences; the conqueror and his
family; the propagation of the Christian religion in New Spain; the
formation of the city of Mexico; the history of Spain and the house of
Bourbon. All these topics are treated somewhat copiously. Then followed
the "History of Mexico, from the First Movements which prepared its
Independence in 1808, to the present Epoch," (_Historia de Mejico desde
los primeros Movimientos que prepararon á su Independencia en el Año de
1808 hasta la Época presente_,) in five volumes, published at Mexico,
the first bearing date 1849, and the fifth 1852. From the Preface to the
first volume, it appears that the author was born in Guanajuato, and
witnessed there the beginning of the Mexican revolution in 1810, under
Don Miguel Hidalgo, the curate of Dolores; that he was personally
acquainted with the curate and with many of those who had a principal
part in the successes of that time; that he was experienced in public
affairs, as deputy and as member of the cabinet; and that he had known
directly the persons and things of which he wrote. His last volume
embraces the government of Iturbide as Emperor, and also his unfortunate
death, ending with the establishment of the Mexican Federal Republic in
1824. The work is careful and well considered. The eminent diplomatist
already mentioned, who had known the author officially, writes that "no
one was better acquainted with the history and causes of the incessant
revolutions in his unfortunate country, and that his work on this
subject is considered by all respectable men in Mexico a
_chef-d'oevre_ for purity of sentiments and patriotic convictions."

It is on account of the valedictory words of this History that I have
introduced the name of Alaman on this occasion. They are as follows:--

"Mexico will be, without doubt, a land of prosperity from its natural
advantages, _but it will not be so for the races which now inhabit it_.
As it seemed the destiny of the peoples who established themselves
therein at different and remote epochs to perish from the face of it,
leaving hardly a memory of their existence; even as the nation which
built the edifices of Palenque, and those which we admire in the
peninsula of Yucatan, was destroyed without its being known what it was
nor how it disappeared; _even as the Toltecs perished by the hands of
barbarous tribes coming from the North_, no record of them remaining but
the pyramids of Cholulu and Teotihuacan; and, finally, even as the
ancient Mexicans fell beneath the power of the Spaniards, _the country
gaining infinitely by this change of dominion, but its ancient masters
being overthrown_;--so likewise its present inhabitants shall be ruined
and hardly obtain the compassion they have merited, and the Mexican
nation of our days shall have applied to it what a celebrated Latin poet
said of one of the most famous personages of Roman history, STAT MAGNI
NOMINIS UMBRA,[95]--nothing more remains than the shadow of a name
illustrious in another time.

"May the Almighty, in whose hands is the fate of nations, and who by
ways hidden from our sight abases or exalts them, according to the
designs of his providence, be pleased to grant unto ours the protection
by which he has so often deigned to preserve it from the dangers to
which it has been exposed."[96]

Most affecting words of prophecy! Considering the character of the
author as statesman and historian, it could have been only with
inconceivable anguish that he made this terrible record with regard to
the land whose child and servant he was. Born and reared in Mexico,
honored by its important trusts, and writing the history of its
independence, it was his country, having for him all that makes a
country dear; and yet thus calmly he consigns the present people to
oblivion, while another enters into those happy places where nature is
so bountiful. Thus does a Mexican leave the door open to the foreigner.


CONCLUSION.

Such are some of the prophetic voices about America, differing in
character and importance, but all having one augury, and opening one
vista, illimitable in extent and vastness. Farewell to the idea of
Montesquieu, that a republic can exist only in a small territory.

Ancient prophecy foretold another world beyond the ocean, which in the
mind of Christopher Columbus was nothing less than the Orient with its
inexhaustible treasures. Then came the succession of prophets, who
discerned the future of this continent, beginning with that rare genius,
Sir Thomas Browne, who, in the reign of Charles II., while the
settlements were in their infancy, predicted their growth in power and
civilization; and then that rarest character, Bishop Berkeley, who, in
the reign of George I., while the settlements were still feeble and
undeveloped, heralded a Western empire as "Time's noblest offspring."

These voices are general. Others more precise followed. Turgot, the
philosopher and minister, saw in youth, with the vision of genius, that
all colonies must at their maturity drop from the parent stem, like ripe
fruit. John Adams, one of the chiefs of our own history, in a youth
illumined as that of Turgot, saw the predominance of the Colonies in
population and power followed by the transfer of empire to America; then
the glory of Independence and its joyous celebration by grateful
generations; then the triumph of our language; and, finally, the
establishment of our republican institutions over all North America.
Then came the Abbé Galiani, the Neapolitan Frenchman, who, writing from
Naples while our struggle was still undecided, gayly predicts the total
downfall of Europe, the transmigration to America, and the consummation
of the greatest revolution of the globe by establishing the reign of
America over Europe. There is also Adam Smith, the illustrious
philosopher, who quietly carries the seat of government across the
Atlantic. Meanwhile Pownall, once a Colonial Governor and then a member
of Parliament, in successive works of great detail, foreshadows
independence, naval supremacy, commercial prosperity, immigration from
the Old World, and a new national life, destined to supersede the
systems of Europe and arouse the "curses" of royal ministers. Hartley,
also a member of Parliament, and the British negotiator who signed the
definitive treaty of Independence, bravely announces in Parliament that
the New World is before the Colonists, and that liberty is theirs; and
afterwards, as diplomatist, instructs his government that, through the
attraction of our public lands, immigration will be quickened beyond
precedent and the national debt cease to be a burden. D'Aranda, the
Spanish statesman and diplomatist, predicts to his king that the United
States, though born a "pygmy," will soon be a "colossus," under whose
influence Spain will lose all her American possessions except only Cuba
and Porto Rico. Burns, the truthful poet, looks forward a hundred years,
and beholds our people rejoicing in the centenary of their independence.
Fox, the liberal statesman, foresees the increasing might and various
relations of the United States, so that a blow aimed at them must have a
rebound as destructive as itself. Canning, the brilliant orator, in a
much-admired flight of eloquence, discerns the New World, with its
republics just called into being, redressing the balance of the old.
Cobden, whose fame will be second only to that of Adam Smith among all
in this catalogue, calmly predicts the separation of Canada from the
mother country by peaceable means. Alaman, the Mexican statesman and
historian, announces that Mexico, which has already known so many
successive races, will hereafter be ruled by yet another people, who
will take the place of the present possessors; and with these prophetic
words, he draws a pall over his country.

All these various voices, of different times and countries, mingle and
intertwine in representing the great future of our Republic, which from
small beginnings has already become great. It was at first only a grain
of mustard-seed, "which is, indeed, the least of all seeds; but when it
is grown, it is the greatest among herbs and becomes a tree, so that the
birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof." Better still,
it was only a little leaven, but it is fast leavening the whole
continent. Nearly all who have prophesied speak of "America" or "North
America," and not of any limited circle, colony, or state. It was so, at
the beginning, with Sir Thomas Browne, and especially with Berkeley.
During our Revolution the Colonies, struggling for independence, were
always described by this continental designation. They were already
"America," or "North America," thus incidentally foreshadowing that
coming time when the whole continent, with all its various States, shall
be a Plural Unit, with one Constitution, one Liberty, and one Destiny.
The theme was also taken up by the poet, and popularized in the often
quoted lines:--

    "No pent-up Utica contracts your powers,
    But the whole boundless continent is yours."[97]

Such grandeur may justly excite anxiety rather than pride, for duties
are in corresponding proportion. There is occasion for humility also, as
the individual considers his own insignificance in the transcendent
mass. The tiny polyp, in its unconscious life, builds the everlasting
coral; each citizen is little more than the industrious insect. The
result is accomplished by continuous and combined exertion. Millions of
citizens, working in obedience to nature, can accomplish anything. Of
course, war is an instrumentality which a true civilization disowns.
Here some of our prophets have erred. Sir Thomas Browne was so much
overshadowed by his own age, that his vision was darkened by "great
armies," and even "hostile and piratical attacks" on Europe. It was
natural that D'Aranda, schooled in worldly affairs, should imagine the
new-born power ready to seize the Spanish possessions. Among our own
countrymen, Jefferson looked to war for the extension of dominion. The
Floridas, he says on one occasion, "are ours on the first moment of war,
and until a war they are of no particular necessity to us."[98] Happily
they were acquired in another way. Then again, while declaring that no
constitution was ever before so calculated as ours for extensive empire
and self-government, and insisting upon Canada as a component part, he
calmly says that "this would be, of course, in the first war."[99]
Afterwards, while confessing a longing for Cuba, "as the most
interesting addition that could ever be made to our system of States,"
he says that "he is sensible this can never be obtained, even with her
own consent, without war."[100] Thus at each stage is the baptism of
blood. In much better mood the good Bishop recognized empire as moving
gently in the pathway of light. All this is much clearer now than when
he prophesied. It is easy to see that empire obtained by force is
unrepublican, and offensive to that first principle of our Union
according to which all just government stands only on the consent of the
governed. Our country needs no such ally as war. Its destiny is mightier
than war. Through peace it will have everything. This is our talisman.
Give us peace, and population will increase beyond all experience;
resources of all kinds will multiply infinitely; arts will embellish the
land with immortal beauty; the name of Republic will be exalted, until
every neighbor, yielding to irresistible attraction, will seek a new
life in becoming a part of the great whole; and the national example
will be more puissant than army or navy for the conquest of the world.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Seneca, Medea, Act II. v. 371.

[2] Humboldt, _Examen critique de la Géographie_, Tome I. pp. 101, 162.
See also Humboldt, _Kosmos_, Vol. II. pp. 516, 556, 557, 645.

[3] Strabo, Lib. I. p. 65; Lib. II. p. 118.

[4] Pulci, _Morgante Maggiore_, Canto XXV. st. 229, 230.

[5] Prescott, Ferdinand and Isabella, Vol. II. pp. 117, 118.

[6] Leigh Hunt, Stories from the Italian Poets, p. 171.

[7] Browne, Works, Pickering's edition. Vol. IV. p. 81.

[8] Johnson, Life of Sir Thomas Browne.

[9] Browne, Works, Vol. IV. pp. 232, 233.

[10] Browne, Works, Vol. IV. p. 236.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid., p. 231, note.

[13] Berkeley, Works, Vol. I., Life prefixed, p. 53.

[14] Ibid., p. 53.

[15] Berkeley. Works, Vol. II. p. 443.

[16] Ibid., Vol. I., Life prefixed, p. 15.

[17] Grahame, History of the United States, Vol. IV. pp. 136, 448.

[18] Galt, Life of West, Vol. I. pp. 116, 117.

[19] John Adams, Works Vol. IX. pp. 597-599.

[20] Burnaby, Travels, p. 115.

[21] Ibid., Preface, p. 21.

[22] Turgot, _Oeuvres_, Tome II. p. 66. See also Condorcet, _Oeuvres_,
Tome IV., _Vie de Turgot_; Louis Blanc, _Histoire de la Révolution
Française_, Tome I. pp. 527-533.

[23] John Adams, Works, Vol. I. p. 23. See also Vol. IX. pp. 591, 592.

[24] Ibid., Vol. I. pp. 24, 25.

[25] John Adams, Works, Vol. I. pp. 230, 232.

[26] Ibid., Vol. VII. p. 227.

[27] Ibid., p. 250.

[28] John Adams, Works, Vol. IX. p. 510.

[29] Keith Johnston, Physical Atlas p. 114.

[30] John Adams, Works, Vol. VIII. p. 322.

[31] Ibid. p. 33.

[32] John Adams, Works, Vol. IV. p. 293.

[33] _Biographie Universelle_ of Michaud; also of Didot; Louis Blanc,
_Histoire de la Révolution Française_, Tome I. pp. 390, 545-551.

[34] Galiani, Correspondence, Tome II. p. 221. See also Grimm,
Correspondence, Tome IX. p. 282.

[35] Galiani, Tome II. p. 203; Grimm, Tome IX. p. 285.

[36] Galiani, Tome II. p. 275.

[37] Galiani, TOME II. p. 275.

[38] Smith, Wealth of Nations, Book IV. cap. 7, part 3.

[39] Hildreth, History of the United States, Vol. II. p. 476.

[40] John Adams, Works, Vol. X. p. 241.

[41] Pownall, Administration of the Colonies, Appendix, P. 7.

[42] Pownall, Administration of the Colonies, Appendix, p. 6.

[43] Ibid., p. 9.

[44] Pownall, Colonies, pp. 9, 10, 164.

[45] Pownall, Administration of the Colonies, p. 165.

[46] Ibid., p. 164.

[47] Parliamentary History, Vol. XIX. pp. 527, 528. See also p. 1137.

[48] Pownall, Memorial to the Sovereigns of Europe, pp. 4, 5.

[49] Ibid., p. 43.

[50] Ibid., p. 56.

[51] Ibid., p. 69.

[52] Pownall. Memorial to the Sovereigns of Europe, pp. 74, 77.

[53] Ibid., p. 82.

[54] Ibid., p. 83.

[55] Ibid., p. 85.

[56] Ibid., p. 87.

[57] Pownall, Memorial to the Sovereigns of Europe, pp. 80, 97.

[58] Ibid., p. 78.

[59] Ibid., p. 93.

[60] Ibid., p. 91.

[61] Franklin, Works, Vol. IX. p. 491.

[62] John Adams, Works, Vol. VIII. p. 179.

[63] Pownall, Memorial to the Sovereigns of America, pp. 5, 6.

[64] Pownall, Memorial to the Sovereigns of Europe, p. 83.

[65] Pownall, Memorial to the Sovereigns of America, p. 55.

[66] John Adams, Works, Vol. IX. p. 517.

[67] Ibid., Vol. III. p. 137.

[68] Ibid., Vol. VIII. p. 54.

[69] Ibid., Vol. III. p. 363.

[70] Ibid., Vol. VII. p. 226.

[71] Parliamentary History, Vol. XVIII. p. 553.

[72] Parliamentary History, Vol. XVIII. p. 556.

[73] Ibid., p. 846.

[74] Parliamentary History, Vol. XVIII. p. 1050.

[75] Parliamentary History, Vol. XVIII. p. 1356.

[76] Parliamentary History, Vol. XIX. pp. 259, 260.

[77] Ibid., p. 315.

[78] Ibid., p. 904.

[79] Ibid., p. 1190.

[80] Franklin, Works, Vol. VIII. p. 194.

[81] Franklin, Works, Vol. IX. p. 350.

[82] John Adams, Works, Vol. III. p. 379.

[83] Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. I. p. 140; Vol. II. p. 101

[84] Alaman, _Disertaciones sobre la Historia de la Republica Megicana_,
Tomo III. pp. 351, 352.

[85] Alaman, _Disertaciones_, Tomo III. p. 333.

[86] Burnaby, Travels in North America, Preface, p. 10.

[87] John Adams, Works, Vol. VII p. 484

[88] John Adams, Works, Vol. III. p. 234.

[89] Currie, Life and Works of Burns, p. 266, Grahame, History of United
States, Vol. IV. p. 462.

[90] Parliamentary History, Vol. XXXI. p. 627.

[91] Annual Message to Congress of 2d December, 1823.

[92] Rush, Memoranda of Residence at London, Vol. II. p. 458: Wheaton,
Elements of International Law, pp. 97-112, Dana's note.

[93] Stapleton, Life of Canning, Vol. II. pp. 46, 47.

[94] Canning, Speeches, Vol. VI. pp. 108, 109.

[95] In the original text of Alaman this is printed in large capitals,
and it is explained in a note as said by Lucan in his Pharsalia, with
regard to Pompey.

[96] Alaman, _Historia_, Tomo V. pp. 954, 955.

[97] By Jonathan M. Sewall, in an epilogue to Addison's tragedy of
"Cato," written in 1778 for the Bow Street Theatre, Portsmouth, N. H.

[98] Jefferson's Works, Vol. V. p. 444.

[99] Jefferson's Works, Vol. V. p. 444.

[100] Ibid., Vol. VII. p. 316. See also pp. 288, 299.




SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH.


Near my summer home there is a little cove or landing by the bay, where
nothing larger than a boat can ever anchor. I sit above it now, upon the
steep bank, knee-deep in buttercups, and amid grass so lush and green
that it seems to ripple and flow instead of waving. Below lies a tiny
beach, strewn with a few bits of driftwood and some purple shells, and
so sheltered by projecting walls that its wavelets plash but lightly. A
little farther out, the sea breaks more roughly over submerged rocks,
and the waves lift themselves, ere breaking, in an indescribable way, as
if each gave a glimpse through a translucent window, beyond which all
ocean's depths might be clearly seen. On the right side of my retreat a
high wall limits the view, while on the left the crumbling parapet of
Fort Greene stands out into the foreground, its grassy scarp so relieved
against the blue water, that each inward-bound schooner seems to sail
into a cave of grass. In the middle distance is a white lighthouse, and
beyond lie the round tower of old Fort Louis and the soft low hills of
Conanicut.

Behind me an oriole chirrups in triumph amid the birch-trees which wave
around the house of the haunted window; before me a kingfisher pauses
and waits, and a darting blackbird shows the scarlet on his wings. From
the mossy and water-worn stones of the fort the bright-eyed rats peep
out, or, emerging, swim along the beach, with a motion made graceful, as
is all motion, by contact with the water. Sloops and schooners
constantly come and go, careening in the wind, and their white sails
taking, if remote enough, a vague blue mantle from the delicate air.
Sailboats glide in the distance,--each a mere white wing of canvas,--or
coming nearer, and glancing suddenly into the cove, are put as suddenly
on the other tack, and almost in an instant seem far away. There is
to-day such a live sparkle on the water, such a luminous freshness on
the grass, that it seems, as is so often the case in early June, as if
all history were a dream, and the whole earth were but the creation of a
summer's day.

If Petrarch still knows and feels the consummate beauty of these earthly
things, it may seem to him some repayment for the sorrows of a lifetime
that one reader, after all this lapse of years, should choose his
sonnets to match this grass, these blossoms, and the soft lapse of these
blue waves. Yet any longer or more continuous poem would be out of place
to-day. I fancy that this narrow cove prescribes the proper limits of a
sonnet; and when I count the lines of ripple within yonder projecting
wall, there proves to be room for just fourteen. Nature meets our whims
with such little fitnesses. The words which build these delicate
structures are as soft and fine and close-textured as the sands upon
this tiny beach, and their monotone, if such it be, is the monotone of
the neighboring ocean. Is it not possible, by bringing such a book into
the open air, to separate it from the grimness of commentators, and
bring it back to life and light and Italy? The beautiful earth is the
same as when this poetry and passion were new; there is the same
sunlight, the same blue water and green grass; yonder pleasure-boat
might bear, for aught we know, the friends and lovers of five centuries
ago; Petrarch and Laura might be there, with Boccaccio and Fiammetta as
comrades, and with Chaucer as their stranger guest. It bears, at any
rate, if I know its voyagers, eyes as lustrous, voices as sweet. With
the world thus young, beauty eternal, fancy free, why should these
delicious Italian pages exist but to be tortured into grammatical
examples? Is there no reward to be imagined for a delightful book that
can match Browning's fantastic burial of a tedious one? When it has
sufficiently basked in sunshine, and been cooled in pure salt air, when
it has bathed in heaped clover, and been scented, page by page, with
melilot, cannot its beauty once more blossom, and its buried loves
revive?

Emboldened by such influences, at least let me translate a sonnet, and
see if anything is left after the sweet Italian syllables are gone.
Before this continent was discovered, before English literature existed,
when Chaucer was a child, these words were written. Yet they are to-day
as fresh and perfect as these laburnum-blossoms that droop above my
head. And as the variable and uncertain air comes freighted with
clover-scent from yonder field, so floats through these long centuries,
a breath of fragrance, the memory of Laura.


SONNET 129.

"_Lieti fiori e felici._"

      O joyous, blossoming, ever-blessed flowers!
    'Mid which my queen her gracious footstep sets;
    O plain, that keep'st her words for amulets
    And hold'st her memory in thy leafy bowers!
      O trees, with earliest green of spring-time hours,
    And spring-time's pale and tender violets!
    O grove so dark, the proud sun only lets
    His blithe r

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/33451